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The Day will come when the Towers Four
Reflect the sunlight unto the floor
In a perfect circle, the light will combine
A sign of closure, heed the time
Garthox’s gates will open awhile
The warriors must stand ready
Garthox must not leave
He must stay trapped
For once he’s released
Doom shall impend

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The inscription on the gate of the Kingdom of Marabath has prophesized that every 10 000 years, the lights will form a perfect circle and the Void Dimension will open to release an ancient Evil. It is now time again for those very lights to shape a circle on the Kingdom of Marabath. However, unlike in the past where the Guardians could keep him in, Garthox will escape the Void Dimension with the help of his powerful minions and the 8 worlds will see the biggest battle in history take place. Only one will emerge victorious...Good or Evil

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The 8 Worlds:

1. Earth, the land of Sapiens,
- the chosen one's abilities extends to anything over time
minion

2. Flinx, the land of faries,
- the chosen one's abilities extends to anything over nature(air) and flight

3. Solas, the sea of mermaids,
- the chosen one's abilities extends to anything over nature(water)

4. Jagantha, the land of elves,
- the chosen one's abilities extends to anything over spell casting, magic, they are the source of all magic minion

5. Pastecew, the land of sprites,
- the chosen ones abilities extends to anything over nature(land)

6. Anothadis, land of Caluxes,
- the chosen one's ability extends to anything over war and weaponary
minion

7. Hisbanl, the land of Karnogs
- the chosen one's abilities extends to anything over darkness and shape shifting
minon

8. Belluvier, the land of the Dreigns.
- the chosen one's abilities extends to anything over a high intelligence and speed
minion

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You can still sign up if you're interesed in the quest to defend the 8 Worlds. You may play a warrior or someone from any of the worlds. Here is the link to the OCC of The Guardians- Rise of Garthox:



Once you have posted your character sheet, please wait for approval before you start posting here.

Hugh walked towards the shed on the far side of the grassy plane. He looked about and ensured that none of the gateways to the Worlds were being used. The 8 silver arches stood glittering in the moonlight- none being used. He sighed. Not many people wanted to use the gates or travel to any other world as they knew danger was coming. The destruction of a Kingdom of Maragath in Belluvier was horrifying. Many of the warriors had been found dead. Worst of all, the entire Kingdom of Maragath had disappeared. When Farath and him had gone to the missing Kingdom and realised that it was the work of evil. Word had spread and now people from the 8 worlds refused to travel anymore, fearing for their lives.

Hugh reached the shed and moved into the small wooden structure. He crouched low as he tried to reach for the long wooden stick. Farath's leg was acting up and they needed his walking stick again. Hugh could not help but chuckle at his brother's situation. Neither of them looked the age they were. Both of them were more than a million years old but they appeared to be only 50 years. However every once in a while, their body would start acting the age they were and they would need their walking stick to get around. He grasped the stick and was about to walk out the shed when something stopped him.

All of a sudden, the dark shed and the grass patch outside was cast in a myraid of colours that danced about magically. Hugh spun around, recognising those colours. He moved back into the shed and towards the source of the lights. It was a small orb that fit into his palm. Slowly and gently, her eased it of the shelve and onto his palm. Within the orb, the colourful lights twisted and curled about one another very brightly. Hugh's eyes widened. He clutched the orb and moved quickly back to the house. It was happening. The day they had all been fearing was coming. He looked down at the orb, the Eye of Arilt. It was a signal, a sign that destruction was coming. The Void Dimension was opening. Garthox was going to be set free.

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Hugh and Farath sat at the wooden table their heads bent over, discussing. "It is the sign Farath. We have to take action now." Hugh pointed at the orb.

Farath leaned back into his seat, both his hands folded on his chest. "If this is so then we have to find the tree of Wisdom. She's the only one who can return the excess powers to the chosen ones."

"She must be on her way here as she does have the other orb. Besides even if we went to find for her, we wouldn't even know where she was. She's constantly shifting from world to world." Hugh responded. He stood up from his chair and went to look out the small window. "Atleast we know that one of the chosen one is with us." He said referring to Ashanti.

"Yes but we still have the other 7 to gather. We have to trace the family lines of the previous Guardians. Once we find the chosen ones, we have to get them here unnoticed by Garthox's minions." Farath closed his eyes. The time had finally come. After tens and thousands of years of keeping Garthox in the Void Dimension, now was the time he was going to be released. This was truly going to be the greatest battle where there will only be one standing; good or evil.

"I'll trace the Guardians and invite them here. And to avoid the minions from knowing about this gathering, I'll give another reason for the invitation." Hugh decided.

"And I'll await the Tree of Wisdom." Farath agreed to Hugh's plan.

The land of Arilt was a holy and sacred place that God himself had once touched. Everything about it was serene and beautiful; it was a place of calm. Ash stood between Hugh and Farath, waiting. Ash was tall but the two brothers were taller. They probably stood two metres tall of which every inch except for their faces, was hidden underneath huge cloaks. Both of them looked almost alike except that Hugh had gold eyes whilst his brother had peircing black eyes. Their looks hid their actual age which was more than a million years old. But they looked to only be in their fifties.

Ash prodded the ground with the tip of her boots. It was time for them to arrive, time that the Guardians finally met each other. Ash stared at the eight silver archways that glimmered in the moonlight. The portals would open and the chosen ones will come, seven others just like her.

His race has been lost in the annals of history, perhaps he was once Dregin, perhaps Karnog, Clauxes or Sprite, Merman or Elf…he could have been Fey or even Sapian. Many stories have been spun to frighten children and adult as the fearsome tales of the nightmarish creature known as Garthox spread across the worlds.

The shadows that moved in the night, shrieks carried upon the wind, the hideous traces of unknown creatures crossing the lands…all attributed to the power of Garthox.

Eons ago Garthox stood against the power of the worlds, his voice strong and proud, echoing across the lands in defiance to God, “You are the Creator of life, your word is law! All knowing, all wise with mercy in your eyes!” Garthox shouted, “But I am the one, the taker of life. I am the one, the source of blight. I am the air, the howling wind and the damning freeze! I am the one, the bringer of misery! I am the breath of eternity; and I am the hand of destiny!”

For uttering such blasphemous words, Garthox fought against the chosen, he faced the powers incarnate and…he lost.

Deep in his hoary realm of dank ruins and darkened halls Garthox waited it was said, for the day the gates would open again, the day when he would burst free to reclaim the lands of life…to reclaim what he had lost.

Seated upon a vast obsidian throne the creature known as Garthox reached forth with a massive taloned hand, which sliced through the gloom and landed upon the handle of the great sword that waited for blood to course along its form, for it hungered to taste pain and suffering again. A deep, echoing voice carried through out the shadowed chambers, "Soon we shall feed both of our hungers...soon we shall walk among the light...soon the worlds will tremble."

Slowly the grim lord stood. The great figure stretched, as it did so the long, thick horns which pointed forward from each side of the great skull became evident as the dim light ran along the wicked protrusions. The dark coloration blended from a deep crimson to the darkest black. Azure lights, miasmatic in nature, roiled from where his eyes should reside. A curl of smoke rose from the corner of his black lips, a toothy maw exposed as the nightmare smiled.

One massive cloven hoofed foot touched the floor, as it did so wisps of smoke swirled around the hoof, the weight of the nightmare caused even the solid stone to groan as it protested the movements that proceeded across it’s surface.

With a sudden swiftness that belied the size of the nightmare come to life, Garthox lifted his blade, as a great exhale of breath escaped him, filling the air with curls of smoke. Narrowing his eyes, Garthox began the long walk to the gates. A wicked smile crossed his lips, this time he would escape. Woe unto the worlds that had locked him away.

The ringing footfalls slowed and finally ceased to echo around the ruined realm. The great Garthox stood a moment as the gleaming lights studied the massively constructed gates that had held him for eons, time having slowed to a crawl as he only grew in hatred. The power that coursed through his veins, laced with that black hatred and the desire to avenge itself upon the eight worlds.

Garthox smiled cruelly, a wisp of smoke escaped his lips, and it curled and blew away when he snorted. The vast sword that the Lord of Nightmares gripped reached forward and tapped the mighty gates that held him. Eyes narrowing slightly as he licked his lips, the blackened tongue, almost serpent like as it traced the outline of the twisted mouth.

His power slowly extending as the Nightmare That Lives realized the time was nigh on hand, he reached forward, his siren call flowing slowly through the grand gates, seeking his minions, "Prepare for the Devourer of Worlds is coming."

The swirling miasma that surrounded the form of Garthox writhed and lashed out as if a living thing, the tendrils of arcane power seemed to tremble with anticipation of the darkness that would soon spread across the worlds. The Nightmare Lord sniffed the chilled air of his tomb; the rancor that surrounded him had been his comfort for so long, once the first gust of air washed over him he would inhale as deeply as he had ever done so long ago.

The taste of freedom would wash down his mighty throat, fueling the rage and hatred that had grown and infused his very being. Garthox had waited for such a moment when he would be free to visit upon the worlds the black malevolence that coursed through his veins. A large clawed hand touched the hated gates, feeling the immeasurably cold metal that had been his bane. The great eyes flared and flashed, the azure light cast from them lit upon the barrier, slowly tracing the hewn edges, the battered frame where his might failed to force the gate down.

The weakening of the gates was felt in the dark form of Garthox, the intense spiraling of his barely contained rage flooded from him, washing over the landscape on the other side of the barrier. Closing the great azure gleam of eyes, Garthox allowed his power to reach out to his minions again, embracing them, infusing them with an aspect of him, a single thought repeated in their minds, “I AM RELEASED!”

With the first steps through the gates, Garthox felt the static remnants of the power that once held him fast. The flash and spark of blue-white energy washed over his body, causing the darkly scaled skin to illuminate for an instant before being snuffed out by the unspeakable daemonic energy that reside within Garthox. The darkness that flowed from him was as a living creature, moving and engulfing all that was around, washing the world in a poisonous cloud of fear that only amplified the visual impact Garthox had upon the fragile minds of those who saw him, shattering their sanity as the living nightmare began his conquest of the worlds, seeking vengeance upon them.

Garthox began to laugh, a horrifically morbid sound carried on the winds that blew through out the world that had imprisoned him.

Kra'zim Ashdown sat upon a once gleaming golden throne. Now covered with so much soot and dust, it looked no more elaborate than a commoners chair. A single sound echoing through-out his mind, “I AM RELEASED!” What could have been interrupted as a smile spread across Kra'zim's face. Lifting his mouth ever so slightly, enough to reveal sharpened teeth. It had been so long since he had smiled, but it was time. A time for change, a time for him to claim all under his masters banner. He was finnally out. Ready to start again, what he had not completed before.

A sudden flash and a large axe with a reddish aura around it appeared in Kra'zim's left hand. He ran one of his three fingers along the half-moon shaped blade, slicing it open. 'The first taste of blood' Karim mouthed. An old tradition, though one he could not shake even after serving the lord of Nightmares. Kra'zim stood, the Axe vanishing back into the thin air from once what it had come. He began to move his massive figure across the dust covered floor, when was the last time he had left? He did not remember, it did not matter either. All that mattered was returning to his masters side once more.

Hefting back large wooden doors, Kra'zim left the ancient keep, starting on his journey to the gateway to madness, the gateway to the void dimension.

Fieht stood in font of the gateway, and once again looked at a strange stone she had received. She wasn't quite sure if she wanted to leave her homeland or not...this wasn't as tough a decesion as it seemed. Shrugging she placed the stone in the arch, right where the note had said it would be. The portal opeaned and on the other side she could see grass instead of rocks and such. Taking in a deep breath, she steeped through the portal.

"The day will come when peace shall go into hiding and the morning star shall neglects its eternal chore. The moon will bleed and the land will tremble with fear. All the forest will become silent and the animals forced into hibernation. An ancient evil from long time past will once again reveal its fangs and devour all that is in its way. Darkness is eternal. Fight as one must only eight will succeed. Woe to those who curse the eight for doom knocks on the gates of kingdom destiny."

To think that the prophecy of the old is about to come to pass. Peace has accompanied Chronos for almost 10000 years. The moons have come and gone like two young ones enjoying an eternity of play. The morning star has fulfilled its share of duty, nurturing the land and its inhabitants.

Mirium Eira's silver hair, a mark of Jagantha, scattered against the wind as the white mare carried the lady across the plains. Hers was a race that existed since the beginning of time, since the linear passing was first created. Her kind was marked by their elegance and frozen beauty, surviving through time never losing their allure.

~*~
Mirium strolled along the streets of Mathium noting only the awkward peace that surrounded her. Merchants were continuing their sales, blacksmiths were beating their steel and though she did not see any children, the general population continued their daily chores rummaging through their duties as though trouble never brew and the pending dangers never came. Have they not heard? The fall of Marabath was news that spread like wild fire. It marked the return of Garthox, an ancient evil pending destruction for the eight worlds.

"Welcome to Ben's smithery. How can I help you?"
"Do you have coils of thin alloy wires? Preferably more durable than steel without losing its flexibility."
"Wires?"
"And kunais if you have them. Have you heard of rumors concerning an oncoming battle?"

For a split second, the smith's eyes sharpened but then immediately recovered.

"A battle eh? There are thousands of rumors circulating constantly. If you want to find out more, you should go to the Suntana Tavern. Its a good place for information gathering. I'll deliver your orders by tonight."
"Thank you."

~*~
The bustling tavern paid no heed to the hooded newcomer as they continued their drinks, their songs and their dances. They seemed like a merry bunch.

"What can I get for you?"
"Have you heard of any rumors concerning Marabath?"

She could feel, for a split second, the attention of the entire tavern focused on her. Yet turning her azure eyes to either direction it seemed as though everyone was merely continuing what they were doing singing merrily, telling stories and dancing to songs.

"There are rumors that Marabath has fallen. But then again, there are thousands of rumors that float around everyday."
"I see."

~*~
After leaving the tavern Mirium found for herself a room in the inn. The surroundings were not elaborate but it sufficed her need. The two moons released their respective blue and purple hues and the lady elf stood beside the window gazing above. Something was bothering her. Then someone knocked on the door.

"M'am, I'm delivering the goods you ordered earlier."

Mirium opened the door and allowed the blacksmith in. Suddenly, her vision blurred and her head begun to sway.

"M'am, are you alright?"

The elf was about to allow help from the smith when suddenly she saw a hidden glimmer. Mirium pushed herself back but it was too late. The blade pierced her side leaving a blue blood wound. Her blood was, in contrast to humans, carbon based oxygen carriers. With a quick swipe she picked up the goods and leaped out crashing through the window and onto the ground. She had been drugged. Around her were more people - those from the tavern.

"Look at what we caught this time. Its a pretty lady elf."

She shouldn't be caught here, she mustn't! She must reach the portal gates and answer the call...

One moment she was standing on the grassy planes of Arilt, watching the silver gateways for signs of the arrival of the Guardians and the next she was surrounded by complete darkness. Her braided hair was now free and it flowed about her as if someone was blowing at it gently; which was strange for there was no wind. It was just an empty space where nothing existed. She was glowing slightly, a pale colour that made her look almost ghost like. It was dark except for tiny particles of light that whizzed around the space; darting about as if they were alive. She raised her right hand out into the darting lights,reaching for the brightest speck amongst them all.

Using her index finger, she managed to catch that bright dot that was as tiny as an ant. Lifting it ever so carefully, she brought it near her face, to get a better look. That speck flew away from her finger and straight into her eye. She blinked at the foriegn item that irritated her eyes. She blinked multiple times, trying to rid her eye of the light. A cooling sensation spread across her eyes as her vision blurred. Slowly, images appeared. Her iris widened as more of the images appeared. She took them in, translating the images as they came.

Then all of a sudden, she felt the darkness being sucked into some sort of black hole. As the darkness was being ripped from all about her, a new setting took its place. She blinked once more and she was back in the Land of Arilt; standing in between Hugh and Farath as though the dark place did not exist.

She took in a deep breath. Her mind contemplated what she had just seen. It was most definitely the future. "Hugh," she whispered. He turned his head to look down at her. "The vision..." she began to relate what she had seen but was interrupted when two of the gateways shined brightly. One was the gateway to Anothadis and the other was to Flinx. Two Guardians were arriving. But the rest had to come soon for if her vision was accurate, the Tree of Wisdom was making its way to Arilt but it was going to be ambushed. She had not been able to see who or what had made the attack but if the Guardians did not move fast, the Tree of Wisdom would be destroyed even before it could return the extra powers of God to the Guardians.

"Hugh, we need to get to the ruins of the Kingdom of Marabath. The Tree of Wisdom is travelling from there but she needs help. The portal is almost open and Garthox or his minions might get to her first." Ash spoke.

Sardaros raised his head. His eyes pierced through the darkness that surrounded him. It felt like he was suddenly stabbed in the head with an ice cold dagger. A feeling long forgotten... could it really be? After all this time?

"Yes..." he whispered, "what else could it be? He's back... and calling for his minions once more... the outcome will be different this time, I promise you... Master."

He set out immediately, leaving the cave behind him. The eternal night on his homeworld of Hisbanl provided a shelter for his intentions. He needed a disguise, even ages after Garthox's imprisonment, he was recognised as his once loyal follower, not a glimmer for redemption.

"Time for practice.." Sardaros let out a whisper and smiled slightly. He stood moitonlessly, only opening his mouth, speaking in an ancient language. All of sudden, darkness started to impend. Slightly at the beginning, in the form of shadowy trails, ending in something one would call a "unnaturaly amassed bunch of shadows". It made Sardaros invisible to common eyes. As no humanoids, whose form could be taken over, were nearby, Sardaros had to shapeshift into an animal, what he could do at his will. He focused his will on his chosen animal, and eventually began changing shape, slowly diminishing until a black panther stood where Sardaros had previously did. Immediately, he departed.

Towards the "eternal" prison...

The Lord of Nightmares stood amidst the desolation called Marabeth, his malevolent gaze touching upon the tumbled ruins, the hellish winds that seemed to roar from no where, swirled the dust of the destruction around his ghastly frame. Small fires continued to glow and spark, the angry embers of hatred fueling them, wailings of lamentation and the insane, pitiful cries of those who had looked upon the living nightmare, carried upon the unearthly winds.

Garthox inhaled the sickly-sweet smell of the decaying corpses of those who had opposed him. The sounds of their torment echoed in his ears, the great toothy maw opened slightly as the long, serpentine tongue flicked the wind and traced along the black lips. Standing amid the waste of the once thriving kingdom, Garthox felt…what?

Whirling the Lord of Nightmares sought the repugnant source of his sudden unease. Casting out his dreadful eldritch powers, Garthox allowed his senses to wash over the landscape. Everywhere those who huddled cowering in places they believe would hide them from his gaze, wailed and cried as the unspeakable incorporeal power of nightmares entombed and infested them for a moment before releasing their fear wracked bodies.

Garthox knew what he sought, it was power, not just power but power incarnate. It was the taste of those who had defeated him. Yet the power was contained still, not yet released, not yet infused in the vessels of the chosen.

Snarling the Lord of Nightmares narrowed the hellish light that emanated from his eyes. Gathering the shadows to him, the dread lord extended his taloned hands, his voice subtle, speaking words long forgotten by any of the living races. Words that even the mightiest wizards of ancient days dare not use. The shadows seemed to inflate, to take on substance as the hell borne winds rushed through them. Gruesome shapes, formed shapes that would incite dementia in all who had not the power to accept what was before them. For the shadows were now living things, apparitions of infernal powers, seeking the source of the untapped power of the chosen.

Speaking with a fiendishly somber tone, Garthox whispered, “Find the source of my discomfort. Seek out what pains me, descend upon it and destroy it.” With that the multitude of shadows raced away from the Living Nightmare, their forms flowing and darting across the desolate landscape, shadowed beasts flashing frightful teeth from their ethereal forms, for they were fear given life, nightmares birthed of tens of thousand years of hatred.

Fieht stepped onto the grass, squinting slightly at the light. She looked around her new surroundings, catching a glimpse of three people, two men and a woman. Fieht walked over to them and bowed, a sign of greeting for her people. "Hello, my name is Fieht...which of you is Hugh?" she said.

While walking along a beach on Solas Tyrvon found an arch embedding in the cliff face. He re-read the letter and looked at the stone. He grabbed the stone and placed it into the dent like the letter described. At first nothing happened, but after a few seconds the arch glowed and a portal appeared. Tyrvon took in a deep breath and stepped through.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tyrvon looked around the grassy plain. He saw four people and walked over to them.
"Which one of you is Hugh? My name is Tyrvon Silvanti."

The sound of an almost forgotten voice carried, as the creature took a knee before Garthox, azure lights flared and smoldered, slowly changing from azure to a yellow to a brilliant white. The hellish winds swirled around Garthox creating spinning debris of ash that materialize as an elemental being before collapsing once again into a swirling dust.

The malevolent voice echoed, “My prophet, my herald, my malfeasance…” Garthox peered down at the kneeling Devarkin a moment, the lights incandesced and dimmed before the Lord of Nightmares spoke again, “Rise and prepare for we have much sorrow to sow upon this world. Lamentations of the weak and the suffering of the vain must fill the air, leaving no doubt that from the void has returned the Nightmare of worlds.”

Turning swiftly the dread lord stepped toward a pile of blackened rubble, snarling and with a wave of his large taloned hand, the rubble began to assemble itself into a massive throne. Once it was complete Garthox seated himself upon it and stared out across the devastated area, once a castle-keep, once a thriving town, now it was nothing more than a sepulcher for those who had the misfortune of merely being present as the Lord of Nightmares emerged from the void.

Garthox leaned back, his cloven hooves touching the ground and around the throne, the ground tainted, corrupted, as if the Lord of Nightmares were devouring the very essence of the world. Resting a scaled elbow on the arm of the throne, raising a taloned hand to his face, Garthox peered at Jarrad a moment before speaking again.

“Prophet…I have...need of you…to discover that which gnaws at my senses. I can taste the power incarnate, I can feel the unfettered essence of the eight, yet they are not present. Somewhere…the bearer of their power still resides in this land. I have sent my shadow hounds to seek it, but I fear they will fail against those who have gathered against me.” Garthox whispered, and even this was a cacophony of hideous mewling that would assail and shatter the senses of mere mortals.

The tremendous winds roared through the ruins, creating shrieking and moans that carried and amplified, a lunatic howl that filled those fragile souls still hiding, with an emptiness, as if their very souls had been drained from their bodies. The shattered lands were testament to the vengeance that would be rained upon the eight worlds if the Lord of Nightmares was unchecked.

Garthox looked at his Prophet, “The others are coming…from here we shall take the lands of light and subjugate them, for they shall pay for the eons I have suffered. Now seek that source before the fated eight can recover their strength.”

"Hugh, we need to get to the ruins of the Kingdom of Marabath. The Tree of Wisdom is travelling from there but she needs help. The portal is almost open and Garthox or his minions might get to her first." Ash spoke.

"A vision?" Hugh asked. Ash nodded her head. "Then we must make haste," he decided. Hugh knew that if the Tree of Wisdom was destroyed, there would be no hope for the eight worlds. His thoughts were interrupted as a tall woman stepped through the arch from the World of Anothadis.

"Hello, my name is Fieht...which of you is Hugh?" she said as she bowed. Hugh, Farath and Ash bowed in return, acknowleding it as a sign of greeting that the Caluxes used.

"I am Hugh and this is my brother Farath. I would like to thank you for responding to the invitation although it was sent out on such short notice." Hugh responded in his deep voice.

"Hugh the gate to Solas is open as well." Farath spoke softly, indicating the arch that led to the World of Solas.

"Ahhh yes. Excellent." Hugh took his attention away from the Fieht for just a moment as he watched the Guardian of Solas step from his world into the Land of Arilt.

"Which one of you is Hugh? My name is Tyrvon Silvanti." the man asked as he introduced himself.

"That would be me Tyrvon. And this here is Farath..." Hugh introduced himself again but at the feel of Ash's hand on his arm, he turned to her; his eyes questioning.

"Hugh we don't have time. That vision has me worried. The Tree of Wisdom may not make it," Ash spoke. The vision had shown dark shadows moving about the Tree of Wisdom and Ash knew that unless they helped the Tree of Wisdom, she may not make it.

Hugh contemplated the possibilities. Only three of the Guardians were here; five more had yet to arrive. On top of that, other than Ash, none of the others knew they were Guardians. "Fieht and Tyrvon, I wish we had time to explain to you the situation but we do not. This here is Ash. She's a Guardian...just like the two of you. You may not realise it now, but you'll have the abilities to defeat Garthox. I can't tell you alot right now but this will have to do," Hugh would have preferred to have explained this slowly to them but they were running out of time, "There is a tree called the Tree of Wisdom. You may have heard of it. Right now, its travelling from the Kingdom of Marabath in Belluvier to here. If Ash's visions are right then Garthox may destroy her and that would be the end of it all. I will need the two of you and Ash to travel to Belluvier first to protect the Tree of Wisdom and bring her here unscathed."

Farath listened as his brother instructed the three Guardians. "Hugh, I'll go with them. And I think that the Guardian of Flinx should join us. She's coming through the portal now." He spoke again in that soft voice that held command as well.

Hugh nodded, "That will be for the best Farath. Assist them and return to Arilt brother. I'll await the other four Guardians then." Hugh beckoned for the fairy to join the group.

Farath looked down upon the three Guardians, his tall frame towering over them. "We better be moving Guardians." He turned and walked towards the arch to Belluvier.

.....................................................................................................................................

"I think you'll should take your stones from the gateway. There are only ten stones like these; one for every Guardian and one for Hugh and Farath each. If you lose it, it may fall into the wrong hands." Ash smiled at Fieht and Tyrvon. Her own stone was in a pouch tied to her belt around her waist. She hoped that the other two were okay considering how much information they had to take in. She herself had taken quite awhile to come to terms with the fact that she was a Guardian; someone who was supposed to save the world. She had never thought herself as the hero sort but here she was.

"Once you'll grab the stones and the fairy joins us, we'll go."

Jarrad stayed in his knelt position for a moment, then stood at command. His lock fell around his mask, making his hidden face seem..oddly realistic. "My Liege...I am prepared. As I have been since the eight put you in your...prison.", he answered as Garthox told him to rise. He bowed his head, still, continuing his praise. "My Lord. There will be now wonder as to who was at the cause of the to-be events. Your name shall be written in glory, as the eight fall beneath my powers.", he made the speech as if it were a promise. He stood.

"My Liege...the eight are gathered throughout the regions. I can feel the spread of their prowess. It will be an easy enough task, my lord, with your blessing, to wipe them clean off the face of the planet. You have been in your keep for so long, my Liege...while you waited...while you suffered...I have done nothing but hone my skills. I was once your greatest. I shall forever be so much more." He bowed to Garthox as he spoke. He heard Garthox's words. " I shall not allow the trivial eight to do to you what their ancestors once accomplished. You will see that I have become infinitely more competent, My Lord." He lifted his head from the bow.

He stared, emotionless, at his commander, now. A smaller Devkarin that had followed him to the site. "Get the troops from the Jukai ready. We will deal with the eight of the chosen personally." He returned his gaze to the Nightmare Incarnate. "I wonder, my Liege...if you would prefer the sight alive, but incapacitated for your personal pleasure?", he nodded and smiled full on in possibly the most maniacal smile ever achieved on the plane. He returned his gaze to his troop head. "Direct order. Go, now. Lest I should personally rip your beating heart from your chest and feed it to the Devourer." The troop's commanding officer nodded shortly and rushed off towards the nearest town, where he knew he and his troop would meet with at least one of the eight chosen warriors.

--

Kremsal, the chosen officer for Jarrad's troops had just made it to the outer reaches of the region, having cut down numberless quantities of enemy troops. They kept coming. Every one he struck down seemed to produce two more in his stead. He would strike those two, as well, his assault seeming to lead to nothing. For a moment, as a large beast of unknown origin attacked, Kremsal had plans of rushing one of the Chosen, sighted a few meters South. The beast was sent to the netherworlds, Kremsal's blade, alone...a No-Dachi concocted by Jarrad himself, meeting the creature's skull in mid-lounge. He continued on, finally coming to eyes-sight of the single chosen of the eight. He stared at the male (anyone in particular that wants to take the spot), his iris-less pools sinking deep under a mask not all that unlike Jarrad's. "So...this is where it all begins, is it?"

Soft lush grass, a gentle breeze carrying upon the smell of pure sweetness, the warmth of the sun, all were welcome greetings to the Flinx as she stepped through the portal. A playful smile flirted with Alina's lips, causing them to curl upwards ever so gently. It took a few moments before the fae daughter opened her baby blue eyes, and allowed her gaze to dart about inquisitivley. Taking in two elder forms, and the younger forms of three others, Anila turned and studied the portal. It looked exactly the same as it had on the other side, and the last of the powerful energy was now grounding itself, silver, blue and a tinge of purple, sparks flitting about it. Reaching out, Anila took the opaque blue stone from its hold, returning it the clasp on the silver chain, specifically made for the orb.

"That will be for the best Farath. Assist them and return to Arilt brother. I'll await the other four Guardians then."

Anila paused as she began to turn to face the group, the sentence causing head to stop and think. Continuing, she turned her form fully and studied the two elders properly. As the likeness gradually reached her, she thought back to when she was a child, the stories her Grandmother had told her. Hugh and Farath, The Brothers, Protectors, Ultimate Guardians.. So many names they could be and had been called, spun a web in her mind. It had taken the girl this long to realise such things, despite the letter she had recieved. All her childhood the Flinx had dreamt of travelling through the portals, each attempt being prevented by family and clan, and now she was in the presence... Already, Farath was walking away, and instinctivley the Flinx dropped into a bow before the remaining brother.

"Sir, it is an honour." Were her only words, simple and crisp.



Her body was graceful, sleek and elegant. It moved with a synchronization only one of her kind could express, muscles rippling beneath silver fur. Her legs stretched out, her padded feet colliding with dirt, leaves and twigs. They made no sound, working together to give the predator superiority over prey. She slowed now, as she neared the animal. The she-wolfs body pressed low to the ground, her tail still, her black-brown eyes intent, sparkling with a human intelligence one would find unusual. Her soft belly brushed against the leaves, her muscles tense with anticipation... Her movements slowed to a standstill, and she lingered in the cover nature provided her. Determined eyes peered out from through branches and shrubs, eyeing the prey. It stood tall, taller then the she-wolf, and it raised its head slowly, instantly alert. To the predators favour, she was down-wind, and her distinct scent did not carry to the curious senses of the deer. Her brown flank bunched up fleetingly, aware that something was amiss.

As the Hunter prepared to lurch forward, intense emotions caused her ears to swivel round, as the smell of elven blood shot to her sensitive nose. Shadows and darkness surged forward as the she-wolf yipped loudly in excitement. Wounded Elf, wounded Elf! The words echoed throughout the she-wolfs mind as she yipped again. The deer had already fled, but the she-wolfs mind was not intent upon that. Darkness surged forward again as the she-wolf turned, loping into the awaiting abyss with suprising speed.

Originally, the she-wolf wasn't too far from the town the injured elf lingered in, but such things deserved the quickest of possible... greetings. Through the darkness of the shadows, the she-wolf slipped through patches of land lit by the sun, before flitting into a shadow and appearing from within one quarter a kilometre away. Nearing the scent of humans, the she-wolf slowed, prowling through the numerous shadows that lingered for her.

Now she paused, her silver haunches tense with anticipation, muscles taught and bunched up. The intense eyes peered out of the darkness as she remained unseen, watching through the crowd that gathered. The stench was stronger now, and saliva built within the she-wolfs mouth, nd yet, as a gap appeared and she prepared to leap forward, she paused.

Yelping the she-wolf collapsed in the shadows, shuddering as her body convulsed and shook. The she-wolfs time was up, and Charna Senka Delaney's was once again beginning. The woman that now lay within the shadows shuddered once more; when it was involuntary the changing always left her shaken. It took less then 30 seconds, however, for Charna to scramble to her feet, her black hair falling about her sharp-featured face wildly, her boyish clothes ruffled and uncomfortable.

As she came to her senses, Charna gasped in shock at what she had been planning to do. Such things often happened whilst the animal senses overtook her, and the she-wolf especially liked a chance at elfs, and yet no matter how many times such things occured, they never ceased to suprise her.

As she reached for her bow, Charna realised she had left it in her Inn room whilst hunting, and gritting her teeth, she lunged forward instead and grabbed the large knife a man was holding threateningly, spinning around and snarling threateningly. As Charna backed towards the elf, she muttered over her shoulder.
"Charna Senka Delaney, of the Hisbanl. Pleasure to meet you, and pleasure to aid you if you'll accept it."
As Charna shifted her stance, the blue orb that had been sent to her slipped from within her shirt, and a deft hand slipped out as she caught it hastily.

Fieht nodded, and walked to her portal, grabbing the stone. She looked at it thoughtfully for a few seconds, then placed in her traveling bag. She then walked back to the others, and said "I'm ready."

"Where is this...Belluvier anyways?" Tyrvon asked.