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Rolling on his side Earro coughed, his throat dry as sand. Looking around he saw Rabe lying peacefully next to him, her breathing strong even though she was asleep. Flipping on his stomach he stuck his whole head in the water; all the way to the base of his neck. Keeping it under for almost a minute, he finally satisfied his head and brought his head back out. After being without water for so long he felt like a brittle twig, but that was nothing compared to the knowing feeling he had in his stomach. Resting his back on Rabe’s he looked around at the unfamiliar place. It was a dark so he couldn’t make out everything, but he could tell they were in a jungle or forest of sorts; which meant there would be fruits and animals he. Finally feeling strong enough to support himself he pushed himself to the ground, walking silently away as to not wake the sleeping lion.

The forest floor was full of leaves, roots, and vines; each one having their own distinctive feel. Moving through the darkness, the only source of light was the stars since the moon had decided that it need time to rest. Feeling his way deeper into the jungle, Earro could smell the scent of fresh somewhere ahead. His mouth watering at the prospect of fresh fruit, he picked up the pace his smile brooding as he came across a large vine with a cluster of strange fruits on it. Running up to the lone vine, he looked around to see if there were any more like it; strangle this was the only vine with fruit, but his stomach audible protest to waiting any longer made him reach out and take the large yellow red fruit.

The instance he tugged on the fruit, several vines shot out of the ground; enveloping his legs and arms they pulled him down to the ground, hitting his back painfully on the ground. Gasping he saw the vine with his meal retreat into the foliage. Looking around he searched for his knife that had fallen from his pocket when he was abruptly to the ground; spotting it near his toes, tried to wrap his foot around so he could fling it to his hand. Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound as something fell from the canopy to the ground. Looking over his chest he saw a large creature pull its self up from the ground; the creature looked like a giant pitcher plant but it had many of the traits of other carnivorous plants. As he looked at the large plant hidden in the shadow, he was suddenly dragged across the ground; his back scarping against the rocks and protruding roots. Stopping at the feet of the creature he was hoisted into the air, his hair falling out of his eyes.

Releasing his arms the monster of a plant began to lower him into it large mouth; which was covered in rows of thorn and hairs. Doing a mid air sit up he slashed at the vines holding his feat, cutting them enough that they broke from his weight. Rolling around, he put his hands below his head as he fell; pushing off the rim of the mouth and landing behind it. Running past the plant before it had time to turn around, he grabbed his knife off the ground that had fallen. Spinning to face the large plant, he brought the blade up to his face. Vines shot out from nowhere, but his blade sliced through all of them with ease. Running back towards the plant, he kicked it to the ground; it roots snapping from being up rooted. Plunging his knife into where he though the things heart might be, he stabbed it several times; sap leaking out of the large wholes he made. Eventually the vines stopped thrashing around, its gapping trap also ceasing to open and close.

Jumping off the giant plant he sheathed put his blade back, normally he would have attacked it with his spear, but for some reason he had forgot it back at home. Tired and defeated at finding out it wasn’t real fruit he walked back to where he had left Rabe. Taking his time he used his sense to make sure he didn’t trip any other carnivorous plants. It seemed to take forever to get back to the pool of water, no doubt because he didn’t’ have the smell of food goading him on. He had really been hoping to come back with at least some kind of food; especially after Rabe had somehow carried him all the way here. Thinking silently, he made his way through the jungle; when he heard the slightest rustle of leaves. Stopping, he waited and listened for the sound again; this time holding his breath in suspense. He heard the rustle this time again followed by the unmistakable sound of something’s snort. Crouching he brought his blade out and put it in between his teeth, the sweat taste of the previous kill still on it. Moving silently through the brush he pushed a large leaf out of his view; a large boar with young lay sleeping in a shallow burrow, less than fifteen feet from him completely unaware of his presence. Sighing inwardly, he contemplated if he should really kill this animal; he normally didn’t kill animals that had young. As he thought about his other options his stomach growled loudly, causing the mother to snap fully awake; it yellow eyes glinting in the low light. Running out of time to think Earro lunged out of his hiding place startling the mother with his attack; her momentary in-decision to protect her young or flee giving him barely enough time to reach her and grapple her to the ground. Grabbing her small tusk he slammed her face first into the dirt, her piglets squealing at being awaken. Pulling his knife out he put it in her skull before she had time to overpower him.

Keeping the blade planted there longer than it needs to be, he shuddered slightly at how he had so ruthlessly taken the baby’s mother from them. Heaving the large animal on his shoulder he walked away, the squealing piglets left to be either eaten or worse. Finally reaching Rabe he threw the boar down on the ground to the side of her. Waking from the noise she craned her neck to see what it was, smiling at the in bed service she was getting. Sitting next to her, dug his nails into where he had already created a puncture.

With a cruelty that caused the very elements of nature to shudder and shrink away, he who should not be, the lord of nightmares stepped from the twisted and deformed forest. The great swirling miasma of energy that poured forth from the great eyes rose and misted around the large horns that jutted forward. Black lips curled, revealing wicked dagger sharp teeth that gleamed with a horrid whiteness that reflected the light.

Taloned feet touched the soft loam, causing the once fertile land to wither and die, barren sterility slowly spreading away from Garthox in an eerie patchwork spider web like pattern. The great sword shifted and roiled as if alive, the dusky metal seemed to surge and fold in upon it elf, warping the stars that appeared locked within the blade.

“Hear me children of Flinx your fate is now at hand! The nightmares of your youth shall be visited upon you! Garthox has returned and the suffering and pain you shall deliver unto me shall be ever so sweet as golden nectar upon my lips.” Boomed the dread voice as it echoed and carried upon the violent winds that rushed past the great horned being.

Below him a city, a people huddled in fear as the gathering storm weld up on the mountains. With a tremendous boom the thunder crashed and echoed through the sky, the onyx clouds flared and flashed with tremendous multicolored streaks of lighting. Around the great lord of nightmares a deep black cloud began to swirl and grow as if it were a cyclone. Yet with in the hellish whipping winds great orbs of fiery crimson flared and sparked with a malignancy that rivaled Garthox.

The laminations of the people in their sleep reached a fever pitch as their senses were assaulted by the corrupted delirium that cascaded upon them. Sunless dreams, where eldritch horrors rose up causing those sleepers to wake screaming as if possessed. Foul smelling vaporous clouds drifted along the streets of the beleaguered city, those unfortunate enough to be awake were consumed by the sheer acidic hatred that comprised the clouds.

Garthox smiled as the shouts and cries floated upon the currents to his ears, the howls of fear and shrieks of agonizing torment caused the lord of nightmares to laugh with a morbid finality. Raising the great sword so the dire blade faced the city below him, Garthox paused a moment before slicing the very air itself, releasing a vast torrent of infernal energies that flowed and cascaded from the rending. Soundless and spectral the energies crashed upon the town, every where it touched the evil sprang forth. The buildings withered and fell into disrepair as if they had aged hundreds of years in a moment.

The flesh of the living swelled with gangrenous disease, mortal wounds split the flesh oozing scarlet liquids that moved with villainous intent. Gathering in large pools as the ensanguined flagstones where the cadavers fell shuddered and shifted. Grotesque misshapen beings rose from the pools, beings that moved with an oily trail towards those who seemed to resist the nightmare power of he should not be. Screeching of a long forgotten language filled the air, intermingling with the horrified cries of the population as they were enveloped by the blood beasts.

With a malignant confidence, Garthox began a slow walk towards the city. It was the first to face his power, it would not be the last, “So shall the Guardians face he who should not be, so shall the Guardians face the lord of nightmares. So shall the Guardians face Garthox and woe be unto them, for I shall not lose this time.”

Fieht guided her horse through the woods with growing unease. When she had entered the trees had looked thinner, and there had seemed to be less then what she had traveled through so far. It was already night, but she didn't even dare to stop, she could feel things watching her, and they weren't your average animal either. Fieht's horse seemed nervous as well, and animals could sense things that would pass by even her senses. She wondered what the woods really were, since she had never encountered one so big as this one in her country before.
Suddenly, her horse spooked and started to run, Fieht tightened her grip on the reings[sp?] and pulled back, trying to stop the horse, but it kept running. Looking behind her to see what had scared the horse so, she only saw darkness. Narrowing her eyes she looked forward and decided to guide the frightened horse as best that she could. After what seemed like an hour the horse started to slow, and then stopped completely.
Fieht took in her surroundings and saw that they were no longer in the woods, and smiled "Smart horse." she said out loud, the only reply was the horse snorting. She quickly dismounted and made camp, it was to dark to travel any further, plus she wouldn't be able to tell where she had ended up until morning anyways.

Pain, sharp, intense pain flowed through the streets of the burning city. The battered and smashed bodies of fairies lay strewn throughout the rubble lined streets. The blood gathered and pooled, the moans of those clinging to life, the pleas for help carried and lifted on a hellish wind to be borne to unfeeling ears.

The being who should not be, the lord of nightmares stepped among the debris of the city, the whorls of energy misted and floated away from the eye sockets, roiling and swirling around the great horns before being carried on the roaring hell winds. Garthox surveyed the carnage before him, the pain and suffering of those thousands who fell to his hoary powers filled him with a certain malignant satisfaction. The black lips curled, revealing long wickedly sharp teeth, a purple tongue darted past the great gleaming gateway and tasted the air, before vanishing again. A horrendously frightful laugh echoed among the streets, the sound crashed down among the survivors as a final testament to their certain end.

“Woe unto those who defy the Lord of Nightmares for I shall consume the souls and flesh of those who do so!” Garthox snarled as he crushed under foot the body of a fairy, hardly noticing the crunch as he did so. Even as the being spoke, a cadre of fairies launched a desperate attack. Winging from the ruins, their war cries filled the air, their swords and spears gleaming in the muted orange glow of the raging fires.

Narrowing his brows Garthox caught the sounds coming from behind him. Twisting his torso slightly to see the source, he who should not be caught the winged forms flying towards him, the hatred in their eyes. A cruel smile fluttered across the black lips, as the great beast turned towards the on rushing fairy warriors. The great sword surged and roiled, the deep black strained against its form, the stars inside twinkled and faded. As the sword rose, the blade seemed to slice the very air itself.

The fairy warriors dove, those with spears pulled up and hurled their weapons, those with swords continued their dive. Lowering his great horned-head, Garthox inhaled then exhaled. As the heated air expunged itself from his lungs, the great eyes flared a deep crimson. With a snarl Garthox stepped forward, as his taloned foot slammed into the debris filled earth the sword was in motion. The air reverberated and split asunder as sonic boom exploded around the blade. Twisted tendrils of murky energies flowed around the edge of the sword, corrupting and tainting the air with a thick viscous cloud of oil darkness.

The fairies that had dove were met by the cloud, only to have their forms twisted and shredded by the nightmare energies that surrounded them. The howls of pain, the insane gibbering of those in the cloud echoed along the streets. Limp, bloated bodies fell with a sickly wet thud to the ground, as the acidic evil consumed their flesh.

The spears continued forth, most had been destroyed by the cloud, most. One spear, tossed by a thin young woman, hurled with hatred to match Garthox’s managed to make it through and sailed on its course towards the brawny torso of he who should not be. Snarling, the great teeth exposed, as the spear slammed home, strike the lord of nightmares in the right pectoral muscle. Garthox emitted a bloodthirsty howl as he raised his left hand. The swirling nightmare stuff that surrounded the hand exploded outward, streaking as a black bolt towards the fairy. Even as the impossible fast bolt reached her, consumed her, a voice rang out in defiance, “For Flinx! For Freedom!”

The other fairies tried to escape the wrath of the great evil, but the explosion of power, the shockwave of the nightmare stuff engulfed them all, swallowing their pitiful cries in a roar that filled their ears. It was a roar like a maniacal laughter, a roar that they would carry into the eternal void, the void encapsulated in the sword of Garthox. Even as the souls of those fairies that just died filled the surging miasma in the sword, he who should not be crashed the mighty blade towards the ground. As the damned and corrupted weapon struck the earth, a swelling and rolling flowed away from the being. Great gouts of black fire erupted from the ground; shooting thousands of feet into the air before crashing back, everywhere the black fire touched the earth shuddered and became an emancipated grotesque mockery of what it had once been.

The poisoning of the earth was now in process, the taint of evil had been infused into the world of Flinx, and that evil was now coursing in a subterranean wave, spreading from this point. It would take a few weeks, but the world would become a sterile wasteland, the death of this world would be complete unless the guardians could defeat Garthox and use their powers to reverse his corruption.

Ash (Earth):

Leaning in to whisper to Azrael, Ash whispered to him, "Follow him and say your here to present the swords to the curator." At that, Ash passed her own blade to Azrael. "Yes we do. My boss here would like to present some valuable items to the museum." Ash nudged Azrael to play along.

The guard looked them both up and down before his eyes fell on the swords. A second later and the porky man smiled at Azrael. "Of course Sir, this way," he began to lead the way. "Please distract them while I find the chains," Ash mumbled to Azrael before walking in the opposite direction.

Heading towards the room where she had seen the trail of mist end, Ash looked back to ensure that Azrael was following the guard before turning back. Peering into the large hall that held so many precious item, she walked down the steps. Frowning, she scanned the room unable to see the stone from where she was standing. She would have to walk around.
................................................................................................................

Hugh (Land of Arilt):

Bending into a bow, Hugh showed his respect to the High Kings of the eight Worlds, the first of their kind.

"Rise Hugh," a firm and strong voice called for him to look up. Raising his head, the remaining brother caught the eye of the High King of Jagantha.

"The time has arrived, my Kings. The time of darkness." He reported although he knew the Kings would have figured that out by now.

"Yes Hugh, this day has been foretold ever since Garthox was sealed away. We all knew this day would soon arrive and it has. Nothing could have changed the release of that evil. It is a prophecy that was to happen," a crystal clear voice that Hugh recognised as that of the King of Solas resonated.

"But what we must now focus on is the the fate of the worlds. Only the actions of the people can change the fate that lies in wait for them. There are some who will choose to side that of the darkness and there will be those who will fight on the side of good," the High king of Jagantha nodded his head.

"The Guardians have a huge part to play. They are to give hope where there is none. For when all hope is gone, that is when Garthox will win," this time a gentle female voice spoke. It was the High Queen of Flinx. "We will have to put the Guardians to a test, one that will strengthen their character."

In the depths of the ancient ruins of the long abandoned castle the great portal shimmered as a lone figure stepped forth from the depths of oblivion. A small smile passing his lips the Guardian known as Gabriel surveyed his surroundings. It wasn’t much, but it was home. It had been a while since he’d been here, over a year, with his traveling off with the rest of the guardians he hadn’t had a chance to come back. You could even say he’d been homesick, though in reality he had little to come home to, other than the lands he had been familiar with since he was a child. With one last fleeting smile he slowly trekked down the large hill where the great monument to some long lost age still towered, the land barren and hilly as far as the eye could see. Having spent much of his life here, exploring and traveling whenever he’d gotten a chance, it’d come to a point where even the subtle differences in the hills and surrounding oddities were more than enough for him to take his bearings.

Glancing up absentmindedly at the setting sun Gabriel frowned, it would be deep in the night before he reached the nearest town, yet he knew of an old barn along the way that would provide him shelter during the night. Good thing too, from the ominous clouds forming to the North it looked like his first night back would be wet and stormy. Eying the long journey before him Gabriel continued forward, his mind wandering, mulling over the trials before him. His first goal was simple; The Sitora armor, capable of repelling all but the mightiest of spells, and a formidable armor in its own right. He hadn’t the slightest idea of where it might be, or even if he was on the right side of the planet, yet he knew he must recover it should he survive the journeys before him.

Then he would have to return to the other Guardians, possibly after recruiting any help he could find, to face Garthox and his ilk. Gabriel still wasn’t sure what he could, even with his newfound knowledge and powers. The very incarnations of all that was evil stood before him and his brethren, and many of them had just now stumbled upon their powers. As such the thought that echoed through his mind was, what chance did they have? These enemies, these armies of Darkness, these Minions of the greatest evil ever to walk the Eight Worlds, and he who should not be himself, what chance did they have against them? They’d had millennia to train and perfect their skills, and all the Guardians had were the blessings of some tree and maybe some trinkets they’d pick up along the way.

As his mind continued to wander, filled with confusion and misgivings the waning sun slowly slipped beneath the horizon, and day turned to a dark, moonless night. Blinking as he stumbled awkwardly upon a thick root Gabriel surveyed the area around him. He had now traveled many leagues in his ponderings, the majority of his journey behind him. Even in this all consuming darkness his powers over darkness granted him considerably more to see than most, leaving the outline of the large barn just within view over the next rise. As Gabriel smiled to himself and continued onward a streak of lighting cracked through the sky, bringing with it a thick drizzle, quickly soaking through Gabriel’s thin apparel, leaving him laughing in delight at its warm embrace. It had been a long time since he’d stood in the rain on a warm night, just enjoying one of the simple pleasures of life. It brought back memories of his childhood, and the simple life he had once lived.

But now all that was behind him, he was a Guardian now, one of the last hopes of his world, and all those that apposed he who should not be. It would be a hard journey before him, and reminiscing of the days of old would do him little good. He had long ago lost his innocence, his hands now covered in the blood of his enemies, and his mind forever scarred by the encounters. With a sad smile Gabriel continued onward, his path to come still unclear in his mind.

As he finally came upon the decrepit old barn, covered from foundations to rooftop in a thick coat of ivy, he surveyed its silent interior. It was in ruins, and hay was scattered about the floor, but it was dry, and probably a lot warmer than the outside. Plopping down next to a degrading bale of hay he slowly nodded off, visions of the things to come, dancing through his mind. Losing sleep would do him no favor, as he would likely need all he could get if he was to survive the things to come. With this thought in mind, his eyes slowly closed, and his body curled up against what poor excuse for a pillow he had.

As Gabriel slowly delved off to the land of visions, fantasies, and nightmares a figure silently watched from the rafters. It had been following the young Guardian for the last few hours, watching, waiting, wondering as to what path he would take. Over time this lone watcher had become set in its way, its decision made, and the last vestiges of its goal set into place. When the youth woke, he would take his first steps to becoming what he must, a true Guardian, to stand before Garthox, and save all that was good in the Eight Worlds.

The girl was quick on her feet, he had to admit that, but that could pose a problem for Azrael. Continuing to play the silent, aloof archetype of those patrons of art and items long since forgotten, he follows the security guard down the corridor towards the curator's office. He held the blades respectfully, yet there was something about his demeanor that exuded a sense of deadly grace. Looking down his nose at the security guard's back, Azrael did not once glance back in Ash's direction, for what superior would show such uncertainty, especially to a subordinate, in front of others?

The pair walked through the office section of the museum, the area restricted for museum personnel and archaeologists with finds to offer, such as Azrael was purporting to be. The guard turned down a short hallway that seemed to dead end into an emergency exit and stopped before what looked to be a large, wooden shipping crate and gestured for Azrael to approach it. Azrael looks at the crate, then back at the guard, a slight look of confusion on his face. The guard chuckles and opens the 'crate', revealing it to be nothing more than a door to the curator's office.

"You will find the curator to be a very frugal man. He does not like to spend funding on much aside from acquiring artifacts to display, and since we had some crated up before we even had the building, he decided to save money by using the crates to save on supplies. Don't let that discourage you, though, he will pay handsomely for artifacts of value."

Without so much as a nod to the guard, Azrael steps into the curator's office, swords in hand.

Time had passed in Kiana's lands. She was not an enemy, nor friend or time. They existed together, neither acknowledging the other. Time did not effect her, but she felt tortured by the last few days which had dragged out long and slow. There was nothing for her to do, and she felt useless, worthless. She was so eager to meet the guardian, but could do nothing but wait. Useless, worthless. Kiana summoned, and commanded, but had nothing to direct her soldiers toward, nothing to destroy. Garthox doesn't need you. She jumped at the shadows, expecting the guardian to come roaring through her castle, sword in hand, blood smeared on cloth. Her soldiers would lay slaughtered, and Kiana would be powerless. That was where all her power lie, right? In spells and necromancy? Weak, useless. Even though she had advised herself against using the whip except in the most dire of circumstances, Kiana now carried it on her hip. She even had her dead tasting her drinks before she would sip them. The amount of her guard doubled, and forty of the strongest soldiers ever to be summoned patrolled her corridors. But she still didn't feel safe, and wouldn't until the guardian was dead at her feet.

The destruction that has wrought them
The terror and the fear
Weighs down on them in coldness
While the monster does just leer

The green and rolling valleys
Of grass that is so lush
The strong yet few mountain peaks
And from them do rivers rush.

But with every step those talons
Do so slowly take
With every roar that he gives
Desolation does he make.

This world of peace and laughter
Of all that’s good and fair
Is slowly being ruptured with
Evil they refuse to share.

Already songs were being written about the horror that graced Flinx with its maliciousness. The terror that gripped the poets and minstrels, if anything, only provided them with the fame giving inspiration they’d searched for all their lives.
Their crazed minds swirled, whilst the adrenaline rushing through their bodies combined with the bloody horror to give them illusions, much like the ones one would get from throwing henbane into flames.

However, inspiration is not what the indescribable fear gave everyone.

By a small lake towards the southern Flinx, the door of an ageing, yet capable hut flung open. A hermit stumbled out of his humble abode, and only his arrival broke the peace and tranquillity. His mindless babbling rose and fell and pitch, gradually transforming into crazed shrieks. He clutched at his weathered face, mouth agape as his body convulsed, spittle flying from his lips.

As the hermit continued his hollow rambling, the scene began to change rapidly. Darkness began to descend, but it was no the blanket of midnight and starry pin-pricks that Flinx experienced most nights at this time of the year. It was an impenetrable darkness of evil, bringing with it the rotting odour of death and cloaking the Heavens with its eternal Hell. This merely intensified the hermits cries and he stumbled towards the waters edge.

It glistened with a sudden sickness that could only be created by the physical presence of the Nightmare Who Should Not Be. Is reflection stared back at him, ghostly white and mutated by fear. Without further prompting, his vocals ceased and he fell into silent scream. Body collapsing, limp, with no mental or physical control, the hermit splashed into the water. The poisoned liquid filled his mouth, bitter in taste, flowing down his throat, finding a way into his nostrils. He did nothing to stop it, and despite the natural resistance which gave the body power over mind, his head remained beneath the surface.

The fear wrought him; and he brought death unto himself.

- - T h e S e e d l i n g - -

In a place where nothing was, somebody wrote love.

A day and night had passed, and the seedling has flourished. Flourished and flourished well. Defying all that the world knew of its plant and wild life, the seedling buried into the ground, only to emerge in rapid succession, creeping up to begin its life duty.
Creepers clung to the stone, already hiding the main paragraph from sight, as well as most of the last two messages. Despite the evil that had set foot onto the world, the graveyard remained unchained, except for the creeper. With its tendrils clutching, and ever growing, it would have covered the stone by the arrival of its second night.

Afterwards, only one word would be seen in the sentence. Love.

Morning came to an already awake Fieht, she sat by her fire watching the sun break the gloom that was called dawn. Fieht yawned, she had already gone two nights without rest, and she had a feeling it would be no different tonight. Once the sun was high enough, she stood and stretched, then survayed her surroundings. The woods were still within sight, and she still felt as if something was watching her, turning her gaze away from the woods she turned her attention to the road ahead.
Fieht was more than happy to see the town of Anozina in the distance, the horse had run straight through the woods, which had led straight to the town. Smiling to herself, she woke her horse and kicked dirt unto the fire. After gathering her things she headed for the village, at last things were looking up for her journey, and she made note to avoid the woods on the way back.

Deep in the night, as the last traces of light left the midnight sky, the huddled figure deep in the small barn stirred, roused from his sleep by some unseen presence. As the Guardian of Hisbanl, Gabriel’s vision in the darkness was great, far greater than those of a normal human, yet the darkness that now enshrouded him was far stronger than any he had ever seen, as if the hand of some great deity had smothered out all the light of the world. As he stirred, the darkness seemed to lift slightly in a path before him, leaving a small walkway revealed amongst the complete abyss of darkness to either side. His eyes narrowing Gabriel slowly stepped forth, out of the comforting bounds of the small barn.

“Hello?”

As his voice echoed through the now chill night air the path behind him began to recede, as the darkness enshrouding it thickened, until it appeared as a solid wall of unbreakable darkness. Not wanting to be caught by the approaching barrier, and seeing the beckoning path before him, Gabriel stepped forward, slowly trekking to the unfamiliar edge of a hill. As his eyes strained to pierce the darkness two shapes coalesced into being before him, each buried slightly into the damp earth.

To his left lay a great blade, a relic of some long lost age, with a worn leather hilt and shining steel blade, ancient, yet of a good make, and to his left lay a scythe, the tool of a farmer. As the darkness behind Gabriel molded with the circle that confined him a voice echoed through the all consuming darkness, reverberating as if Gabriel stood in some great hall or theater.

“To your left lies a sword, the blade of a warrior, forged to shed blood in the great wars of man, and wielded only as a blade of death. To your right, lies a scythe, the simple blade of a farmer, used in times of war, and in times of peace, a blade used to bring forth the bounties of the earth, and feed the masses……. Gabriel, Guardian of the world of Hisbanl, which blade would you choose? If this war, if Garthox, if all the darkness that is to come, was but a dream, and you were not as you are now, which blade would you choose to wield for all time? The blade of a warrior, or the blade of a farmer?”

Attempting to once more pierce the darkness Gabriel turned and viewed the area around him. It was completely barren, save the two blades, and the wall of darkness blocked anything that could be beyond. Finding his only option to answer Gabriel turned back to the two blades, his mind churning at the question.

“I….I would chose the scythe….over the sword…..any day….I have no love for this bloodshed, for the sadness, for the pain that war and battle bring, I don’t want this life, I know it has to be done, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

As his voice echoed through the night air the darkness seemed to shift and swirl, before once more the voice pierced the silence.

“It is good, if not….sad… that one so young bears the wisdom of one so old. You realize the horrors that you will be forced to meet, as many of your age seek only the exhilaration and glory war is said to bring. For each of the Guardian’s names will be remembered throughout all history, for better or worse. Yet just the same, this confusion, this uncertainty must end. From the time you were first named a Guardian, to the time Garthox is gone once again, you are a tool of fate. Every choice, every action, everything you do will shake the world around you. Therefore you must come to know, to realize, that whether you want to or not, you must stand stalwart with your brethren, and destroy all before you, as you are a vital piece of their efforts.”

“For while your brethren each bear their strengths, you will be the one to bear the greatest burden, for you are the only one that can walk the line in between the shadows and the light, and the only one with that can defy an enemy so much stronger than yourself. When the time comes, it will be you that pose the greatest threat to he who should not be. Yet as the very powers that make you what you are strengthen you in your fight against him, they will weaken you as well. Your choices, your ideals, your powers, will leave you more open to he who should not be than any other Guardian, yet just the same; you will be the one to walk the line between salvation and destruction for us all. As such you must not waver in your journey, for if you fail, all the worlds will fall before he who should not be.”

Confusion and denial breaking across his features Gabriel shook his head and yet again attempted to pierce the darkness.

“You’re crazy, I’m no different than the rest of the Guardians, I hardly mater anyway, what good are my powers? What good are my powers against the lord of Shadows and Nightmares?”

As his quandary floated through the darkness Gabriel pondered his own question. What could he do? His own powers were Garthox’s greatest strengths.

“For now, you are a breeze before a gale, but in time, this will change. When the time comes you will have the strength to stand beside your brothers and sisters triumphant. In time you will grow far stronger than you are now, and will know yet another fraction of your potential.”

Hesitating as he digested the unseen man’s words Gabriel once more broke the silence, confusion once more born on his features.

“But how….why? Why me? What makes me any different than the rest of the Guardians?”

For the first time the response from behind the darkness was almost instantaneous, as if the question had been expected.

“Everything…Hisbanl, this world, our home, is different than the others. We bear many powers, many old magics that no other worlds can claim. Our strength, the strength of Hisbanl lies not in our armies, or our castles, or our creations, but in our weirdo’s, our rejects, in the select few who stand out from all the rest. It is in these anomalies that our strength truly takes form. This has been both the boon and the bane of our world, as we know not when our heroes will step forth, or when our tyrants will take their hold, yet throughout all time, throughout all ages, the poets have written, and the bards have sung, of all those that forge ahead of the rest, and leave their mark, one way or another. For better, or for worse, you and your fellow Guardians are now the tools of fate and can no longer sit idly by while Garthox roams free. Until he is gone, every one of you will drag your worlds with you. If you plow onward, then they may survive, if you fail, all will die.

With a sigh Gabriel watched as his surroundings seemed to lose focues, and the shadows slowly moved in.

“Who are you?”

As a slight chuckle pierced the air the darkness thickened, before breaking down Gabriel’s surroundings and leaving only a dark abyss. Yet as the darkness swallowed him another shape took form before him, clad in a plain traveler’s cloak. With sad, sparkling blue eyes peering out beneath his unkept, soft brown hair the man watched Gabriel.

“Just another anomaly, another tool of fate, making his way through the world the best he can. Goodbye, and remember….”

With a last fleeting smile the figure began to break away, as if some silent wind had carried him away like grains of sand. As he watched the figure dissipate, the world around Gabrial began to fall apart even further leaving an even more complete emptiness, until he was once more consumed in the land of nightmares, in the land of visions, in the land of dreams.

As the Guardian woke from his sleep, finding both blades before him, a lone figure slipped away. It had set the wheel in motion, now another face would keep it spinning. This young Guardian had much to learn before he could stand before the Minions and Garthox, much to do before his destiny was to unfold.

Kairen's light blue, mucus covered form swam through the chilling Northern Sea of Solas, his powerful cords of trained muscle forcing his way through the underwater world of his planet. The General-Prince and his two recent "companions" had been swimming for several long hours, making their way further north, towards the towering form of the Kai-zhen-mira, the Ice Wall. As their agile forms sped through the still arctic waters, the heir to Al-amar was ever vigilant, his predatorial eyes flashing side to side as he gazed for threats. His mission, one of dire importance, could and would not be interrupted by any single event. Prince Al-amar had become slightly less wary in his demeanor, not checking on the two merfolk behind him, despite them being from his rival's kingdom. Hugh had given him a mission, a sacred duty to his people and to all of the eight worlds; that duty would not go unperformed, regardless of the sacrifice.

With the long, uneventful hours of swimming passing by like an ocean wave, the Solas Guardian had finally arrived at his desired location, the Kai-zhen-mirua. Behind the translucent ice blue of the mammoth creation could be seen shadows of serpentine creatures writhing and twisting on the other side of the wall. These beings were sung and wrote about in songs and legends; however, not a single person alive still knew, or recalled, what they were exactly. They remained an enigma, lost in time to Solas. As the shadows moved, only a fraction of their massive size could be seen; several rumors existed about them, but none had been proven or disproven.

His form gave a brief kick, causing his body to accelerate a few meters closer to the wall of condensed water as it seemed to gaze upon him in challenge. Its immobile and unbreakable nature seeming to taunt the skills and resolve of the young noble as he stopped swimming and simply stood suspended in the ocean. Without a moment's delay, the Guardian held his right hand out to the side, motioning for the others to halt without coming any further; he did not speak, assuming that his silent order would be obeyed. Once more, he continued with his duty as a Guardian, taking the next step on the path to obtaining his world's artifact as a measure to defeat Garthox.

As he stopped, his hands moved in front of him, beginning to trace ruins in the water. The sigils glowed a myriad of colors, before fading away as the next one took its place. Once more, he invoked the power gifted to him by God as the Guardian of Solas, hie voice ringing out with an archaic dialect of the Mermaid Sea.

"Kai, mae, ju, va, nohr, cri, hye, ov"

As his chant ended, fading away with an echo, a crack could be seen in the Ice wall. This single breach slowly spread, the spiderweb of lines reaching upwards. The lattice of cracks rose above the ocean, covering a large portion of the Kai-zhen-mirua as the magic of the Guardian weakened the barrier that seperated the northernmost area of the world. Suddenly, the section of the monument in front of the group crumbled. As it broke, a roar like thunder was heard, echoing for many, many miles, and a deep rumble was heard as the wall came down. Massive chunks of ice fell on top of the water, multiple tsunamis being created as they fell into the sea. A mountain of water was formed, rushing towards anything that dotted the surface. The trio of merfolk now saw the inside of the Kai-zhen-mirua, which appeared similiar to their own realms, except for the thick layer of ice covering the surface.

Kairen turned around, gazing upon the people who had offered their support. His eyes judged them, agreeing that they would be useful, and his head gave a brief nod of approvement.

"Shall we go?"

Ash (Earth):

She felt as though she were getting closer to the ancient chains as the energy within her began to grow. With every step in the right direction, Ash could feel warmth surging through her body despite the cold air that filled the museum. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around the organised clutter for the stone that held the eight chains or atleast she assumed it was there.

Suddenly, the orb in the pouch began to rise. Ash looked down at her waist and found the pouch defying gravity. Clamping down on the now glowing pouch, she pulled out the orb and held it tightly within her hands. Within the orb, lights swirled about casting pattern on the marbled floor of the museum. Soon, Anila's face appeared in the orb. Ash could make out the surroundings but only barely. At Anila's words, Ash could atleast understand the two Guardians had split up and the Guardian of Belluvier was now heading back to her own world to uncover her ancestor's item. Tucking the small orb back into the pouch, Ash thought it was for the best. The faster everyone uncovered the items, the better.

Letting the pouch fall to her side, she resumed her search for the stone. Turning a corner, Ash walked backwards for a few steps, making sure she was not missing out on anything, before she turned to walk normally again. But she came to a halt, "Wow."

It was not the fact that the stone was as magnificent as she had last remembered it, it was the fact that the stone was a bright hot red now, as though lava was oozing out of it. "Okay," she muttered to herself as she circled the stone, wondering how she could get the chains out of it. She had to think fast as who knew how long Azrael could keep up the charade. It was not that she didn't think the man could act, oh he could act. In fact, Ash believed that Azrael was used to tricking people. It was that the two of them had mysteriously disappeared from the library just over an hour ago and Ash was pretty sure the cops were looking for them.
................................................................................................................

Alagera (Solas):

How long had they swam for, she could not tell. Although she could say they had traveled far. Despite the fact that her legs were tiring, Alagera refused to stop as she pushed forward. Glancing to her side for just a moment, the young merwoman checked on her Urail, concerned for the old woman's safety. But as always, Nira had on a blank face that revealed none of her emotions. Sighing, Alagera looked back to the front where she could see the Prince swimming up ahead.The silence was killing her as she was not very used to keeping quiet. Alagera loved conversations and this defeaning silence was not pleasing her at all.

Her streamlined body moved as one with the motion of the waters, using the gentle change in current to her advantage. Soon Alagera became used to the quiet that now enveloped her as her thoughts became dull. Just as she was about to fall asleep while swimming, the Prince shot forward, speeding up. Alagera looked up and her eyes widened. They had arrived at Kai-zhen-mirua.

She sped up as well together with Nira but her Urail grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. "What? Why..."

Nira glared at her and Alagera frowned. "He must open it alone." Alagera watched as the Prince held up a hand to tell them not to come any closer. She folded her arms in annoyance but kept still. He placed a hand on the ice wall and chanted the words. Using the powers that was a part of him, the Prince formed cracks in the wall that soon spread out to cover the entire block of ice. Alagera winced as the wall that had stood for so long crumbled to the ground, the rumbling sound echoing throughout. It was a sight to behold as the structure that had blocked out this part of the ocean gave way in a grand way with the after effects taking awhile to fade away.

But now they could see into the the area that her King had called the forbidden sea. The planes were covered with a thick sheet of ice that seemed impossible to break through. Due to the thickness of the layer, very little light passed through and the sea within was dark. As the Prince looked at them and said they should go, Alagera nodded her head and reached out to hold her Urail's hand but her own hand met with nothing but water. Alagera looked to the spot where Nira had been and she wasn't there. Panicking, she looked behind her but it was just empty waters. Turning back to the face the Prince, Alagera eyes held fear until they landed on Nira who was now swimming into the dark waters.

Alagera was confused as to how the old woman had gotten past both her and the Prince without either one of them noticing her movement. She was about to call out to Nira, when the old healer spoke in a voice that was not her own.

"For thousands of years I have guarded this sea and creature, preventing those not worthy from entering." Nira turned to face the two of them, half her body hidden within the shadows. Her eyes were now glowing a strange red colour that frightened Alagera.

"Urail, what are you doing? Stop..."

Ignoring Alagera's pleas, Nira carried on in that booming voice that was not hers, "All who dared to enter, I have removed. It is my duty to prevent the monstrosity that God has created from seeing the light of day. This serpent should never leave this prison it is in."

"Prison? I thought the serpent would aid you in your quest? Is it not good?" Alagera asked the Prince, confusion evident in her voice.

As though answering her question, the thing that was controlling Nira answered, "It is creature and like it's kind is uncontrollable. But there is a way to tame this beast one that will require a sacrifice so great."

As the sun slowly peaked above the horizon a lone figure stirred in the rustic barn that sat silently on the hilltop. The figure was confused, his dreams had bore events that he had felt to be real, and the blades from his dreams lay before him, yet just the same no other sign of the reality of his dreams lay before him. Quickly scanning the area and finding no signs of the man from his dreams the Guardian of Hisbanl, Gabriel, carefully lifted the ancient blade that lay before him. Runic symbols lay upon its blade, barely thinning the already well honed blade, and giving it a highly unique look. While he could not decipher the ancient symbols the blade was obviously the work of a master smith, as the perfect condition and hone of the blade attested.

Twirling it lightly Gabriel smiled at the slight whistling sound it made as it sliced through the air. Gabriel lightly slid the sword back into the sheath before lightly lifting the scythe from its berth. Like the sword it was of a good make, yet the markings it bore were of a far more recent make.

Death comes to all things

As Gabriel watched the markings seemed to dim and shift, before disappearing fully from the blades surface. Death comes to all things? What kind of scythe was this? With the markings faded it now appeared as any other blade, yet just the same it felt strange, different, as if some force, some power, lay just beneath the surface. Frowning Gabriel strapped the scythe to his back and the blade to his belt before setting out. His life as a Guardian had just gotten stranger.

Shaking the events of the night from his mind Gabriel set out on the worn path ahead of him. His burden was still no less, and he still knew no more of where his travels would take him. The perils would be great, and defeat would mean the end of all that was good in the eight worlds. Just the same, was what the man said true? How could he be any more important than any of the other Guardians? What made him special? And besides, he’d just learned all these things, been given all these powers, what chance could he stand against the very incarnation of evil? This whole new life of his was so strange.

As Gabriel’s mind continued to wander the miles quickly flew by, sending him deeper and deeper into the plains, and eventually he found himself standing before the gates of the town of Al’sheer. Wearily stepping forward he walked past the two stationed guards unhindered, their calm composure belying a general lack of crime or violence. In all likelihood it had been some time since this town had had any problems with the locals, or most strangers for that matter, as Gabriel’s two blades were hardly even eyed over. Slowly strolling past the main gates and thin outer walls Gabriel surveyed the scene around him.

The people seemed just like normal everyday people, stuck in a never-ending routine, belying the hidden powers the man had spoke of. Their lives were boring, ordinary, and they lived on, day by day, completely unaware of the destruction at their doorstep. The man had spoke of the strength of Hisbanl. The strength that lay not in the armies that rose in the great wars of their long history, or the small advances in magic or technology they made over the years, it was those that were different, the anomalies, that truly gave this world it’s power. As he walked Gabriel saw few that would fit such a description.

A few children played in the streets, some men and women going about their daily tasks, an old man sitting at the side of an alley, and an oxen or two dragging about their heavy burdens. Nothing of interest showed itself in the small town of Al’sheer. Just the same, Gabriel himself was far from ordinary, but had so far held his guise of the ordinary, the normal. As the people could not know, not yet, not until he had recovered the great artifact that was the ultimate goal of his journey to Hisbanl, only after it was recovered could Gabriel consider seeking new allies and aid in the coming battle.

Shaking off his wandering thoughts as he came upon the rusty door of a decrepit inn Gabriel dug around in his pockets. Caught in the jumbled mess of cloth and lint lay the meager sum he had set out with at the start of his journey. If he was lucky it would be enough for a night or two at the old, yet cozy inn. Brushing by the rustic doorway Gabriel entered, taking in the worn interior of the unnamed inn. Ignoring the sideways looks from many of the inn’s residents he walked up to the main counter and soon found the rooms to be far cheaper than he’d expected, and he quickly found himself trekking up to the small room on the second floor. Placing the key into the ancient door he flinched as the locking mechanism screeched from the rigors of time it had long endured. Slowly stepping forward he found the room well lit by a large window. To his left lay a large bed, covered in thick layers of linens and blankets for the cold nights that occasionally struck, and a number of odd pieces of furniture laying about.

Lightly tossing his many odd pieces of gear aside Gabriel locked the door and hopped onto the large bed, pleasantly surprised by its sturdiness. As Gabriel lay in midday light his mind wandered to the events of the last few days, and the trials that were to come. It was strange. Even when he’d been a boy, he’d known he was different. But a Guardian? Much had happened since he had left, and much more would happen, of that he could be sure. But would he ever be normal again? When this was all over, if he even survived the things to come, what would he do? Could he go back to his old like, or would he always be fighting? Always be killing, always following the path he had been set on by becoming Guardian? As his mind pondered the things to come Gabriel drifted once more to the world of dreams, of darkness, of nightmares, and of visions.

The man fit his personality to a tea. His frame was tall and wiry, and the skin was pulled taught over slender bones. The curator stood upon hearing the door open and peered at Azrael through thin, rectangular glasses. The frames were fashionable, if cheap, and everything in his office seemed more than well worn. He offered Azrael a seat, which he reluctantly took, unsure if the sagging padding in the chair's frame would support his weight. Azrael leaned forward slightly to place the blades carefully on the curator's desk, making sure not to upset the clutter of papers and books.

The curator nearly leaped upon seeing the swords, his attention clearly having shifted from the man now sitting in his office to the prize sitting on the desk before him. His eyes gleamed, rank with lust to possess such finely crafted, and decidedly well preserved artifacts. Licking his lips nervously, the curator sets his features to a tone of high skepticism and begins examining the swords, eyes flicking back to Azrael occasionally. He ran his hand delicately along the edge of Azrael's rapier first, quickly discovering how razor sharp it still was, and quickly withdrawing it to his thin lips. He smiled broadly at Azrael and cleared his throat.

"What sham are you trying to pull? I'll bet you bought these cheap replicas off some internet site and are trying to make a quick buck by selling them to a museum? How could you not think we would appraise them and see just how fake they truly are?" The curator is beaming, thinking he had Azrael about ready to cut quite a sizable amount from whatever price he was thinking of asking. Accusations tended to tip the bargaining in his favor.

Azrael, however, sits oddly calm as the charges are lowered on him. Standing slowly, he locks eyes with the curator, and before the man can blink, he has the blade of the rapier mere millimeters from the curator's eyes, edge gleaming menacingly. He tilts it slightly so that the light is reflecting off the base, just above the hilt. "You see that insignia there? That is the blacksmith's mark. He etches that in after every forging, before the metal has time to cool, and if you know anything near as much as you claim to about ancient weaponry, you will recognise that it is the mark of none other than Antonio Manciolino. With this detail brought to your attention, I am sure you will reconsider your previous statements."

Azrael slides the rapier smoothly back into it's sheathe and returns to his seat as the curator exhales a long breath. The curator takes a small kerchief from inside a coat pocket and dabs at his forehead before returning to the desk. Taking Ash's swords in shaky hands, he clears his throat again before stammering "I-I s-s-suppose I w-was mis-staken earlier. I-it seems y-you are ind-deed correct. Wh-what were you th-thinking would be a p-p-proper price for s-such fine examples of craft?"

Smiling smugly, Azrael examines his fingernails. "I would have to see your security and casings. I went through a lot to obtain these, and I don't want my work to be for naught." He raises his eyes to the curator's, which look back uncertainly.

"As you wish. I will take you to the hall of weapons and show you how they will be kept tightly locked away." Pulling a ring of keys from a locked drawer in his desk, the curator walks to the door, stopping to regain his composure before stepping through.

"At last, the moment i was waiting for a long time now."
These were her last thoughts before entering the big portal that opened in front of her and would give her the chance to see her homeland again. While she felt her body breaking to pieces as she was teleporting, all those happy memories she had, those of the place she spent her youth at, were quickly passing in front of her eyes. If someone could look under the cloth that was hiding her mouth he would see a person smiling, who's life was painful, though her mind was slowly creating resistanses to memories like those. Feeling her body recomposing itself she closed her eyes. She was breathing quickly, being impatient like a child....

Opening her eyes was something she knew she would regret in the future. Instead of the green forest, the sound of happy children running around the trees, the sound of the small waterfall near the fountain of luck, the smell of thousands of flowers that her people would bring to her as a welcome she could only see the ground burned and tainted, she could only hear machines and aircrafts, all she could smell was the rotting of thousands of corpses lieing around or hanging from burned trees....

For one moment she could feel her heart stop beating. With eyes full of tears she fell down looking at nothing but the quickly built millitary barracks that enemy soldiers have made to rest and hold the captured citizens. Inside her anger and pain were fighting to prevail as she was rubbing her eyes, hoping that all these was a bad dream....

"What?... How?... Why?..." Questions she knew no one will answer... Her mind was not thinking clearly...

Suddenly she heard some voices. Some of the guards were coming towards her place.

"Think... Think! THINK!!!" She searched around for a place to hide but there was nothing standing high enough to hide her. She just fell to the ground, acting like a dead body...

When they came closer she could see three men dressed in combat suits, wielding a handgun and a short sword, wearing some kind of weird armor covering most of their bodies' parts. They were probably searching for valuable items on the dead corpses. Three to count, one of which was also wearing some kind of medal which was showing that he was of higher rank from the others. When they reached Moira she begun acting in a way that made her look as if she was scared from the war.

Then the voice of one of the lower rank soldiers was heard:"Ha, a survivor. Let's kill her like the rest of her family."

"No." Answered the other lower rank soldier. "Let her go. She can't hurt anyone and our honor doesn't allow us kill a woman not able to protect herself."

"You nancy boy. Weakness like yours should be punished by our highers." Answered the first lower rank soldier.

"The kid here is right. We don't need to kill her. She is too pretty to die and be wasted along with these ugly monsters." Said the higher ranked one, having a smile on his face and shiething his sword to grab her leg.

That was the exact thing that Moira was expecting. She grabbed his hand and slowly standed up, towards his back and moving her hand to his chest. Now it was the time to do what she knew better. "Ah, i see the little boys want to play games, eh?". She slowly hugged him from the back. "Maybe i can teach you a few things.". She slowly moved her hands and softly touched the back place of his neck. He seemed to be enjoying it, while the other two were watching with the mouth open.

"What are you looking at bastards? Go away. Can't you see the Lady here wants some private moments with a real man?"

Just like she expected. The two lower ranked soldiers walked away, turning their backs to their higher. Moira took this chance to her advantage. With a slight move of her right hand she released one of the daggers from her bracer and slit his throat grabbing him and leaving him slowly to the ground. Then, moving slowly towards the other two soldiers standing a few meters further she stepped behind the one that wanted to kill her.

"Why does he always get the chicks? Hah, one day i will be at his position and i will be the one to be enjoying it..." He said to the other.

"Don't worry. I got a gift for you too honey.". In less than a second his throat was slit too and he was falling to the ground, soulless anymore.

The last alive soldier raised his gun and said: "D... D... Dooon't move or i'll shoot ya."

The answer came back from Moira, whos voice was cold like steel. "No. You proved worthy of staying alive. But i can't let you free." At this point she begun looking deep into his mind. "Maybe you can do me some favors. And then i will unbound you from my service.". She forced him to drop his weapons by mind controlling him. "Now. I will not put a lot of pressure to you. Just help me and i will spare your life. Walk...".

He, though not fully mind controlled, listened to her, scared as he was, and together they begun walking towards the barracks.......

Earro could honestly say he was tired, and his body had proved it by clocking him out for almost two days; his mind finally breaking through its self induced coma only after he had completely digested hi food and was beginning to crave more. Rabe was in a similar condition, even though her body was more use to stretched times of immobility and rest. It was late in the morning when they finally were both awake and sensible enough to talk to each other, their speech of kilter from lack of use. Back to back, they murmured good morning to each other. Practically sleeping with them was the deed carcass of the boar, the dead skin and sinewy muscle shriveled and peeling; at least what was left of it. Turning away from the vulture that had been dinning on the corpse he flipped around to face Rabe’s back, pushing up slightly to tip his upper half over her back. Looking at the side of her face and her one large golden eye, Earro laid there staring, on the verge of rolling back off and falling asleep. “We should probably get going” Rabe yawned lazily, her cutlery glinting from the thin coat of saliva on them. Pushing her body up, she simultaneously shook Earro off giving him a wake up jolt to the funny bone as he landed suddenly on the hard ground. Shaking it off Earro laid on his back, for a second before becoming active.

Standing shakily he walked past the vulture to the nearest tree; leaning, he stretched his arms across his body. “When we were asleep, I had this strange dream…it was like the others were waiting for us” Unfurling his tail he stretched the stiff limb, waiting for Rabe to pull herself away from her grooming. “It was probably just you, and your conciseness; maybe you felt bad that you weren’t doing something.” Cleaning her hind leg she purred it between desperate licks to clean the two days old sweat, and grit of her. “While I was looking for food, I found…stumbled into a large stream and pond. We can go get clean there; it will be easier on your tongue.” Looking up, she gave a look that could have wrinkled a premature banana; but stood up anyways showing she was up for the short walk. Thrusting himself of the tree, in a rain of leaves and vines he began walking in the direction he remember it being. Trotting slowly, the pair walked through the still dew damp underbrush; he leaves occasioanly sticking to the bottom of their paws and feet. The day was heating up slowly, the jungle becoming slightly steamy; with a breeze weaving through enough to keep it well in the comfort zones of the travelers. Glistening through the foliage the pond came into view first, it lengthy sister coming into view later. The bank was cold rock, a speckled brown and gray coloring. Blitzing the water, Earro jumped in; only accompanied by the lioness after she swiped the water. The large pond turned out to be more of a lake in the bright adolescent evening, with the river swallowing up several yards. Earro was waist deep in the water, while Rabe was up to her head; still on her feet. Wading over to where she was standing, Earro cupped some water in his hand and began blanketing her. Growling at him, she began walking away; only stopping when he began scrubbing her back free of the leaves, dirt, and other debris found on the jungle floor. Sitting down she dunked her lower back; keeping it submerged while she allowed for her shoulders and head to be pampered by Earro. “I figure it’s the least I can do after you dragged me back from the sand trap” washing her neck, he scratched the bottom. It was brief, but a well need bath at that. When he finally stopped ten minutes later, the immediate area around them was muddled with dander, leaves twigs, meat, hair, eye grunge, and even some scrapped ear wax. Luckily the current of the out flowing river soon expunged the grime they he had removed from her body.

Giving himself a quick rinse and full body dunk he spent the rest of the day on the rock bank drying with the relaxed Rabe. “We should probably contact the other Guardians soon, just to let them know were okay” Flipping on his back, he finally gave the sky some attention. White rain clouds floated up above, moving at a break neck pace considering their usual momentum. The white clouds against the blue, pinking, sky was calming; Tracking a small walnut shaped cloud he tilted his head back and across; scowling as he lost track of the cloud behind the large faded stone face up ahead. Putting his head back in a more comfortable position, he looked back up at the sky. Jerking his head around again, Earro gasped as he looked at the stony wall ahead. Nudging Rabe he jumped to his feet. “There that’s what I was” Turning her once slumbering head to him then what he was fascinated with he; she sprang to her legs. Ahead was a massive jagged stone wall, with vine trailing over the high up edge; what was most remarkable about the dried water fall was the hieroglyphs on it depicting a lioness, with cubs gathered around her. “The stone skeleton was on practically on the other side of the bank, facing the river head. The only way to get to the base of the waterfall was by swimming to it, the banks leading there taking a long round about approach that would add another 2 hours to the endeavor; along with unneeded walking when it was much more fun to swim.

Both jumping into the water, they paddled toward the finish line; both tagging home at the base of the fall and heaving themselves onto the stone dock, like killer whales on an iceberg. The stone wall had no obvious way to climb it, the once jagged looking steps now revealing their slippery glass like texture from years of water polish. “Stay down here, I think I can get up there…” Walking to the wall he pulled his knife out and dug it in deep over his head, piercing the sediment mixture. Jumping up he grabbed the first smooth ledge, sliding quickly off after not finding any texture to grip. Looking back at Rabe he gave a let me try one more time look. Using the knife leverage, he jumped up again this time digging him animalistic nails into the wall just as he had done the knife. Grimacing slightly at having his nails support his weight, he dug his toe nails into the wall and prepared to pull his knife out again to start the next push to the top. The climb grew steadily hard the higher up, the smooth grip ledges dwindling as he went higher; disappearing into small cracks at the half way mark. Pushing himself he began to sweat, from the exercise and heat lamp at his back.

Reaching up once again with his knife he planted it deeply in the wall, swing his free arm up he tried to plant it in the wall above. Getting a shaky holding he tried to dig deeper, but found it impossible. Settling for the less than opportune hold he brought his knife out and up to swing into another part of the wall; bringing his arm back for momentum, he felt the rock under the hand holding him to the wall; crumble. The world flipped upside down, as he fell backwards away from the wall…screaming. Below, Rabe whimpered in horror as the guardian of Pastecew fell away from the wall; appearing weightless for a beat, before he began to fall. The feeling of weightlessness took over his physical body, while his mind froze with horror; his wails going silent as his heart rate dramatically increased. Plummeting his ears popped from the sudden drop. Then everything froze, and all Earro could see was the pink reflection of the sun fifty or seventy five feet below. A sharp pain then drew him to his ankles, which he couldn’t see since it was covered in bright green rope; peppered with bright violet buds. Both still in shock from what had happened, and from what was happening; Earro stayed limp as his body rose past where he had fallen from, all the way to the top where he was dragged over the edge of the waterfall. Lying perfectly still, he finally gasped for air; having been holding his breath for the last two minutes.

Sitting up he rubbed his now free ankles, and looked at the now shrinking vines next to his feet. Sitting, he finally regained his composure enough to walk; peering over the edge he let Rabe know he was alright, emitting off a sharp whistle. Turning back to where he had been facing, he gazed at the Barren surface. The entire, top of the waterfall barren of all life except of course the two vines who had rescued him earlier. Up ahead was a stone wall, made of large boulders which looked sorely out of place in the relatively flat area. Walking to them he walk to the center; nothing looked unable about it, no signs, riddles, no anything that normally accompanied a trap or other devisees to protect the item he knew was somewhere around here. Sighing he walked the length of the wall; the hard rock of the river bed sanding his feet. Coming back to the center he sat down and looked it over carefully. “Ah” spotting a small rock surrounded in a circular pattern by the large boulders he stood up and reached for it, the circular rock falling out easily. Inside the niche was a small box, pulling it out he looked it over. The plain red wooden box had no markings or openings, but when he turned it he could clearly feel something bumping around inside. Unsheathing his knife he stabbed at the wood, pieces splintering off in retreat. Raising his knife up for the finale hack he plunged it into the red wood, but instead of hearing the crack of wood it was replaced by the sound of crystal shattering. Smashing into thousands of pieces the box blew away like dust in his hand and left only a small handcrafted dark yellow horn. Looking over the small item carefully, he let out an unsatisfied sigh. “This is it?” the horn was not much to look at, it was made of most likely a soft wood, it was a dark yellow, and had a few sprite ruins on it. A cold tingly sensation touched his foot, looking down he saw a pool of water collecting around it; the trickle coming from the boulders stacked into a wall.

“I know where this is going” turning he heard a large crack as the boulders began to shift and break away, followed by the hiss of pressured water. Without looking back Earro sped up, not wanting to be the first to see the waterfall revive its self; reaching the edge he looked over unsure of what to do. It was almost a hundred and fifty foot drop from…A large bang shook his eardrums as two boulders collided from the water breaching it prison. Backing up he dove of the cliff, only seconds later the coming to pursue him. Angling best he could he head for the water hopping that if the impact didn’t kill him, the shallow water wouldn’t either. Rabe looked up puzzled as to why Earro had just committed practical suicide; blinking out some water that had fallen she looked up only have another drop hit her in the eyes. Understanding and fear flashed across her face as she lunged back into the lake away from the base of the water fall. Swimming as fast as she could, she felt water spray her as Earro harpooned the surface of the water; bobbing up almost immediately Earro kept swimming with Rabe until they were well out of range of the large volumes of water and boulders coming down with it. “That was original, why does it have to always be hard?” Shrugging Rabe paddled to the shore so she could dry off once more.

Hugh (Land of Arilt):

She lifted her slim pale hands that glowed white just as the rest of her petite body. “A test we shall set before our Guardians, to challenge their mind and heart more than ever. A simple task it will seem, but fears from the past will return from within. If they should choose the path that is right, then our duty here will be done.” Her gentle voice whispered those words that fell upon the ears of the seven High Kings and Hugh. Leaning back in her throne of ice, the High Queen of Flinx awaited their response.

Upon the completion of her short speech, there was a moment where all began to talk to each other. Some commented on how the test was never used before, others claimed it was not as easy as she said it was, while two argued that not only the Guardians would be involved.

“High Queen, I mean no disrespect,” Hugh began but only carried on after she nodded her head and the other Kings quietened, “The test has only been used once and that was for the first battle. It didn’t turn out well. One could not complete the test and...” Hugh trailed of as all knew what had happened after that.

“This is like the first battle is it not, my Kings,” she spoke, her voice calm and soothing, “Garthox is free of his eternal prison and has begun destruction of the Worlds. Belluvier has been lost,” she looked directly into the eyes of the King of Belluvier as he acknowledged the slow death of his Kingdom. “And as we speak, I feel Flinx fading away. The strength of my people will not last as all hope is fading. Darkness is fast spreading and we must act now. Yes, the test is hard. It is the essence of all they fear. But once conquered, the Guardians will emerge stronger mentally.”
Silence met her final statement, each King deep in thought. Only Hugh spoke, “But you must remember that it is not only the Guardians who will be dragged into the test.”

“Yes, the other five will be forced into the dimension as well. It cannot be helped as they were there at the time of the first test. As such, they are bound to the dimension. If we were to open that plane, not only the Guardians be dragged into it, the five minions of Garthox will be pulled in as well,” the High King of Hisbanl spoke, his deep dark voice washing over the others.

“That cannot be helped,” that was her response, simple and straight forward. “While we waste the time away, people are dying out there. All who believe the test should be done, produce your jewel to Hugh.” As soon as she finished, an emerald gem materialised before her, as though appearing from thin air. She raised her hand and the gem slowly lowered till it came to rest in the callused hands of Hugh. “I for one, have made my decision. May the Gods be with them,” she uttered before the High Queen of Flinx faded away. Her throne melted into liquid in her absence and fell to the frozen lake.

One by one, the High Kings handed their jewels over to Hugh and slowly each one disappeared as well. Stepping of the frozen lake and onto the soft grass, Hugh turned and watched as the thrones melted away and the lake resumed its natural state. Sighing, the Keeper of Arilt glanced down at the eight small jewels that were in his hand. Each when put together would start the test.

Reaching into the cloak that he wore about his shoulders, the giant man pulled out a pouch. Tilting it upside down, he allowed the gold powder inside fall to the ground.

“Jie Donar Na Ien Speral,” he spoke the first words of the incantation. In response, the gold dust lifted of the ground and danced in the air in a spiral that continually twisted. Turning his hand over the jewels levitated in the air before being shifted into the center of the gold spiral. He looked up to the heavens before finishing the incantation. “Binat Heron Ist Aden.”

“May the Gods be with you,” Hugh whispered as the winds picked up and the clouds turned gray. The gold dust carrying the 8 jewels vanished.

The dimension of fears was open.

Moira and the soldier were walking towards the barracks. Around them the smell of rotting corpses was growing stronger although the dead bodies seemed to be less in numbers that the place they were before. Voices of people could be heard not far away and Moira decided that they came close enough for her to stop.

"You." She pointed at the soldier. "Go bring me a clean suit without the stinky filth of you men. And don't even try to trick me. I can see where you go, what you do and can easily melt your brain in a matter of seconds."

Moira took a closer look at that place she thought were 'barracks' from afar was nothing more than tents and campfires as well as some weapon racks spread here and there and some quickly made buildings which should, most likely, be smith houses. Having nothing to do but spy on that soldier's mind, she lied down before a rather clean small hill, always on alert for people coming, and begun singing quietly.

Hours should have passed when the soldier could be seen coming back carrying a uniform. Moira stood up, stretced her back and waited for him to come closer.

"This is all i could find." Said the soldier giving her the armor.

Moira took the armor looking at it. It was not clean but, at least, it seemed unused for some time. Looking inside it someone could see that it was pretty small although the armor was big and really heavy.

"How can i use this? It is too small for me." Moira said looking suspiciously at the soldier ready to attack his mind again, if needed.

"Oh." The soldier answered "Here, press this:" He showed Moira a well hidden small button. Pressing it the armor broke to a thousand pieces leaving only the helm untouched. "Now wear the helm and the armor will magically fit your body.".

And that what happened when she wore the head piece. The whole armor covered her body. It was not heavy anymore, at least not as much as it was before.

"You are a good little soldier i see. Let me see your face before i make you forget me forever.". Moira slowly put her hands at the two sides of the soldier's head and pulled out his helmet just to see a... Thing that could barely look like a face of a man, with pieces cut off and half the head's hair missing.

She was there, paralyzed as he put his helm back, grabbing it from her hands, and said: "Ok. Now you saw how ugly i am. Run away, flee from terror like everyone else did." Saying these the soldier pointed his shortsword at his neck and pieced himself, dieing.

Moira felt she wanted to cry... Again.... She felt guilty for him, guilty for taking his helm off, guilty for reminding to him who, or what, he trully was. "Reanimated..." Moira thought.

Suddenly she felt her body fading, as if an invisible hand was trying to pull her towards somewhere. Hopelessly trying to escape she just stopped resisting and fell unconsious.....