Ragnos

I strode into the throne room. Augustus Warwick sat in his throne, brooding, staring at me with intense contempt.

Our "King" did not give me permission to launch the attack on Feign. I never asked his permission for anything, for he was not the rightful King. For all intents and purposes, I ruled this city: it was my throne he sat upon. But, I knew it would be better to provide a more friendly figure for our society. I, despite all my hate and anger, have some compassion for those who suffer as I. And so I created this town with their aid, to provide refuge and a comfortable life for those shunned by the Castor nations.

But, no doubt, Augustus was outraged at the seemingly apparent failure of my attack. After all, aside from the Necromancers, a few Dracolichs and some hidden Langoliers... All of the soldiers I brought with me have been obliterated...

But not for long, I thought to myself, fidgeting with the Eye held behind my back.

"Augustus," I said firmly, clearly with distaste. "You requested my presence?"

I stood proudly, awaiting the angry King's response.

In the city of Ragnos, everything is dark, not a shed of light can peer through this city's wretched darkness. Gallus, already powerful in the art of magic, wizardry, sorcery, and necromancy, walks near the outskirts of the city walls looking for something to do. It's hard to be so powerful and yet be held back by the people. He finds a place to sit down after hours of walking and doing nothing and sees Valkarie coming back from the war at Feign. Excited to see the great general come home, he rushes back to the city to hear Valkarie's stories of his accomplishment. Once in the manor, Valkarie was nowhere to be found. Gallus asked many where Valkarie is, some say he was with King Warwick up in his throne room. After retrieving the answer he heads straight to the throne room. Once in the throne room, he finds Valkarie talking to the King. He awaits to hear what Valkarie has to say while hiding behind one of the pillars in the throne room...

Shyra was already in the throne room, she had taken to trailing Valkarie in the hope that his presence would make something happen. She hung at the back of the decorated hall. She noticed one of the necromancers from the siege appear and, apparently trying to hide, make himself comfortable behind a pillar within earshot. While he was looking the other direction Shyra fluttered over. Her footsteps almost silent against the ambience of the room. The Elf-like woman approached without mirroring the necromancer's attempt to stay hidden. Once she had made her way next to Gallus, recognising him, she spoke. "Well. Hello there." Her voice naturally as smooth and silky as a whisper, and it did not penetrate the conversation of the King and the Demigod.

[Posting as Lord Augustus Warwick]

The Fellguard tensed around me as Valkarie entered my throne room. The Manor and my humble servants weren't as use to the demigod as I was, but I guess it was a necessity. Valkarie; however powerful he is, does not scare me in the slightest. What does it matter when the people call? What does brute strength matter when the years harvest is late. Where is his keen intellect when a problem arises? I'll tell you where: In the sky. The clouds keep the beast from what he should be doing. War plagues his every thought. Revenge. The people of Ragnos and I however?

We've moved on.

We've forged a nation that spans the entire continent of Locust. We are one country, united under a single banner. We have the power to both protect ourselves, AND decimate the Castrians who curse us. But I am no idealist. I am not one who looks to creating a world wide government. Horatio and I? Just two sides of the same coin. Light without dark? An impossibility. One cannot rule the mass, without one little rebel who refuses to be snuffed out.

And here stands, obviously awaiting me to verbally chastise him for his apparently unauthorization and utter failure. He expects me to dole out some petty punishment and be on with his day. As I learned with the Crusades eons ago, you cannot teach those who will not learn. All you can do is feed them enough string and hope they hang themselves with it.

I cleared my throat and my Fellguard straitened up, more afraid of me than they ever will their General and that Horde rabble of his, "Gerard," I started, speaking his original name before the Reckoning twisted him, "Your insolence brings a tear to my eyes," I look up at the man that stood before me, "But it is not out of anger or fear." I spit at the ground, the saliva burning and evaporating before it even touched the ground, "It is out of pity."

I stood up then and walked toward the man who champions himself as Valkarie, "Your little act of treachery will no doubt bring the full wrath of Castor down upon us all," I glared at him, "Did you even think of the people we both protect from them your liege?" I stretched this last word in sarcasm. I walked around him and toward the large circular window that overlooked the whole of Ragnos North, at the other end of my throne room. I continued to walk toward the window as I spoke, "Finish what you've started Gerard. You know where Arnold is. And, as my reports say, with the destruction of Trenya, the channel between Argos and the Isaiah Plains is the only way they can counterattack. I give you access to the Inquisition and the entire Machine Core. You know where Arnold is, and you especially know where Avermond is."

I look out through the stained glass down to the people who freely roamed my city, "If you fail... You fail every single one of them. This mega city is your creation Valkarie. Your child."

I turn once more and ask one simple question, "Was it worth it?" I was referring to the attack. Surely Gerard wasn't stupid. There had to be a reason. If there wasn't... Oh the horrors I would wreak upon his soul.

Feign had fallen, yet, there was no celebrating, or cheer.

After the city had crumbled and the Recoiless obliterated, Deren had come back to Ragnos, hoping for something to do. He decided the best place to be right now was around "Lord" Augustus Warwick. He was not particularly interested in politics, but thought that something interesting was bound to happen around him and he was right.

He had hidden himself up near the ceiling in his shadow form, and watched as Valkarie came in. He noticed that he wasn't the only one who was watching what was happening. A mage he had never seen before and the shadowmaiden were conversing behind of the pillars.

Returning his attention to Augustus, he listened to his speach, and wondered what Valkarie's reply would be.

I sneered deeply. The King's concern was needless. The Castor armies would not survive a counter attack. We had already decimated Feign in a single fell swoop. If it weren't for the Eye being used against us, I wouldn't have needed to use it to bring the city down. However, I was indeed irked that he called me by my name sans the Reckoning. Only four other people ever referred to me as Gerard. I had become Valkarie... Valkarie Voloshanz.

"You tell me, Augustus," I said with a smirk, lifting the Eye into plain sight, the magical prowess oozing from it. "The Castors fell quickly to our assault on Feign. With this... they will not survive a counter attack. Our armies will be resurrected in a matter of minutes once Arnold utilizes the Eye. And with me leading the battle... all will be decimated."

Several people were listening in on our conversation. A necromancer, sorceror and that mysterious woman whom I ran into at Feign.

They would all prove useful soon.

I was caught in a state of shock when I heard the voice come from behind me. I said: "Umm hello there. Who are you? Have you come to hear the declamation between Valkarie and our Lord?" For that spilt second Gallus didn't pay attention to Valkarie's conversation with King Warwick. He couldn't stop noticing the presence of woman, something about her caught his interest. After a few minutes of regaining his thoughts back on Valkarie, he noticed that he was not alone in the throne room. There were others he has not seen within the city walls before. Whoever they are, they really make this declamation seem very important, it's as if something was about to change the face of this war with the Castorians.

"What King says is of nonsense, he only sees this war in the big picture that it presents itself in, he must see all the small pictures to realize Valkarie's goal and dream. And when he said that Ragnos was his creation, then why doesn't Valkarie rule this majestic city? Why does Warwick rule something he has not created?! It sickens me to see and hear how Valkarie is treated... The only thing he should be getting is praise, not words of pity and sorrow from this fool we call a king." I'm still bothered by the presence of these other companions; Who are they? Why are they hear? What is their purpose? Enough questions for now, I should listen some more so then I can ask the questions later. I'm still mystified by this woman...

For only a moment was I dumbstruck by what was presented to me, but reality hit me harder than anything our general could muster, "You took..." I stutter. The fool. The confounding idiot, "You haven't even taken in the full gravity of the situation have you?" I barked, "That is more than any reason for their coming! That infernal contraption of yours will undo us all!"

The Castrians were not as stupid as Valkarie assumed them to be. The centuries of dwelling, and thoughts of vengeance have clouded his mind. A battered enemy is the most dangerous. He risked our very existence by this act of treachery.

"They WILL come. You have no idea what Castor is capable of. Feign was nothing compared to the Churches of Evan or Renae. Their light will snuff you out with or without that thing." I raved. True, perhaps I was a bit hysterical, but it was called for. I have never doubted Valkarie's tactical prowess, but what truly horrified me was...

I returned to my throne and covered my face with my left palm, "Have you even considered the prophecy?" I asked, referring to Avermond Straum's prediction of.... He who turned his back on us all. Gerard's former master. The man he was doggedly obedient to until that fateful day.

A prophecy? What is this prophecy King Warwick speaks of? Do you know anything of it stranger? This is the FIRST time that I've ever heard of a prophecy...

I never knew that Lord Valkarie had a master... Who is this person? Who is Avermond Straum? Why was I never informed of such things. Sure, I'm not really into the whole political ideals of this city, but what are they talking about...

Gallus was hit hard with their words, he felt dumbfounded by the news... He was definitely in a state of shock. He started thinking about all these questions, baffled by their conversation. Is Valkarie the real person Gallus thought he was? Was he really a hero of the Locust Kingdom? So many questions and there is no one to answer them... I must find my answers quickly...

I chortled now. But he did have a point.

By hands both scarred and hated
Shall bloodlust be sated

The first part of the prophecy had become reality. I razed the city to recover the Eye.

With power eternal at hand
Shall he continue to raze the land

Perhaps a reference to a Castrian counter-attack...

Collossal forces will collide
And Aleksander shall rise to divide.

Straum has never been wrong, not a single time in his life.

But what Augustus doesn't realize is that my true aim is to aid in Aleksander's return.

"Hmph. I don't believe in that convoluted Prophecy you've built your life around, Augustus. That is your truth, not mine. I don't fear Aleksander, nor do I fear any Prophecy speaking of his return. If he is to rise again... I will find a way to kill him myself."

And I was earnest. Aleksander was the root of all my hatred, all my bloodlust and desire for vengeance. I wish to bring Aleksander back... to kill him. And nothing will stop me. Not the Castors, not Horatio, not Augustus, not Xanth: NO ONE.

"For all my faults, Augustus, you know I will defend this city with my life. I may be driven by revenge... but what little compassion I have left is for this city. You may sit on that throne, Augustus, but I rule this city just as much as you: and you know it."

Tentative ears listened left and right. Such young, naive souls: unaware of the gravity of coming events. Some of them don't even know Aleksander's name. Some would oppose his return. Some hate him just as much as I.

Aleksander... Where are you, you bastard?

Deren listened and wondered.

He had heard of the prophecy only once, from his old master, who had worked for Avermond Straum. Certainly the first part had come true, but would the rest come true? If it did come true, that meant that Aleksander would come back.

Deren pondered these things and listened.

Shyra investigated her nails, making sure that the mage could see their unnatural length and sharpness. She listened to Gallus while appearing not to, dropping her hand back down as she replied "Me? I'm known as Shyra... and there is no more to it." At first her voice was its usual silky style, although it hardened after she paused suggesting she would brook no exceptions. She noticed that the man was slightly distracted by her presence, but she applied nothing to it, she was used to such receptions and even made attempts to encourage them. "No, I'm only here because I'm hoping something interesting will happen. Ragnos is more then slightly boring."

She looked at him slightly with contempt as the man voiced his opinion. "So," she began slowly, her voice hinting slightly at the poison that dwelt in her overly white eyes. "You are another mindless lackey. I had hoped for intelligent conversation, but I guess I should not hope with Voloshanz's presence. He draws only power-carving sheep." She turned to watched the events unfolding between the two great figures at the end of the hall. "Only fools see both truths and discard one as a lie." Was her finishing phrase. a grin spread on her face, enjoying what would undoubtedly offend Gallus.

Her full attention was taken by Valkarie at the far end as his bold statements berated the king. The Shadowmaiden had been taught much history and knew more of the fall and the demigods and events surrounding them then the general population of the world, although it was greatly general and unspecific. She personally doubted Voloshanz, he would either fall at the hands of the greater demigod or join Aleksander as the loyal servant he was before. The prophecy was known to her, and she could apply it She sniffed in humour at the demon's last few words, most likely his hollow soul held no compassion and he defended this people with some other twisted and warped emotion. Not that the women herself was not twisted, in a way she could not care less as long as he brought her some way to whet her blade's appetite.

Gallus waits near the the pillar with Shyra... So Shyra's your name huh? A very odd woman such as yourself to be wandering the city of Ragnos. His voice seemed sneerful.
This is a very interesting conversation but what prophecy are they talking about. The more Gallus heard, the more he became interested. So there's more to this war than Valkarie's lust for power...

This shall be a very interesting indeed.... Gallus prepares to leave the throne room to do some research....

"A fool? Don't lecture me, Augustus. I'm not the only one neglecting prophecies.

With power ephemeral of the relics merged
Shall Aleksander's reign be disturbed" I recited aloud. The last part of Straum's prophecy.

"If Aleksander rises again, then I will lay aside my hatred and vindiction to strike him down. With the four items joined together, a power may be created to overthrow him."

And it was true. With the Eye, the Lyre, the Phoenix and the Mirror joined together, Aleksander may yet be defeated.

The Eye, fortified by the energies of history's most powerful sorcerors and users of magic, crafted by my own hands.

The Lyre, created by Isaac from the mythical Harp of Elysia: which he now houses in his own body.

The Phoenix, captured, subdued and forged into a trinket of epic proportions by Andame.

And the Mirror, constructed by Xanth by the remnants of the Twilight Mirror.

All were created to serve Aleksander as members of the court: and now must be reunited to form a weapon strong enough to destroy the master they were made to cater to.

"My aim is to retrieve these relics and forge the weapon myself. Should Aleksander arise... the former Court must put their differences aside and join together to wield these weapons respectively and go into battle together. For now... my aim is to release Isaac and retrieve the Lyre. Augustus, I am a man of many faults: a monster. But I will not rest until my vengeance is fulfilled. And my dream of revenge shall serve this world a better purpose. I may indulge in a few shallow retributions along the way," such as the destruction of Feign, "But make no mistake. The world's most dreaded power is one I seek to exterminate. What happens after that... I neither know or care."

We stood silently.

"With or without your permission, I will take the Eye and resurrect our fallen then lead them to the Isaiah Plains to aid Isaac."

"With or without permission Gerard..." I paused, despising the man's very presence right now, "If you carry this plan out, even with the assistance of the others. You will not be able to halt the coming storm." I looked around the room and noticed all the faces of those who had listened to our ramblings. All those who shouldn't be listening to our most intimate conversations, "Out... I want EVERYONE out." I yelled this from my throne, and everyone, including my guard began to shuffle their feet.

Damn Straum for ever... EVER speaking that infernal prophecy. We're all doing fine without the interruptions of Gods. But I cannot complain, nor should I continue to berate Valkarie. We all hate Aleksander to some degree. And I say that without a doubt in my heart. Of course I feel vengeance in my heart for that man, but he's the one who created us. Delivered us from our old traditions into a new age. Aleksander isn't my priority, neither is my wish to channel my hate through my scimitar. Nay... He won't listen to me. The only one Gerard trusts is Straum... And perhaps the other demigods.

But whatever happens, the people are MY responsibility. While their rightful leader is out tying the noose around all their necks ever tighter.

As everyone was just about clear of my throne room, I said, "Go. Valkarie. Deliver us all to our doom. You're dismissed."

Deren had heard enough, even before Warwick commanded him out. Phasing out into a side street, Deren resumed his normal form. The change took longer than expected and it was several minutes before he was normal.

Sighing, he headed back to the barracks, where his stuff was. All around people were cheering and celebrating. Songs could be heard almost anywhere in the city and as Deren got closer to the barracks, he realized that there was a party going on.

Moving about inside was rather difficult, as there were so many people and things in there. Shouldering his way past most of the party goers, Deren collected his books, weapons, and traveling cloak. He once more plunged into the crowd and reappeared back outside. He set out for the gates, and arrived there half an hour later. Ragnos was the largest city on the continent, and there were very few towns that weren't part of it.

Passing under the gates, he headed towards the coast, and, a small village beside it.

Shyra was not at all put off by the dismissal. She had not incentive to remain in the room and she made her way outside. She wandered away from the great palace, noticing that Valkarie was dismissed behind her. She made a note to track him down later and join him. The city was stagnant and unexciting, she longed for some reason to get out of the city, for although there was no reason to stay there was less reason to leave. Shyra paused and a thought crossed her mind. A grin spread across her black face and her white eyes filled with malice. She turned and, weaving her way delicately through the crowd, made her way to the residences where the majority of necromancers who served in the dark city's army made there home.

Warwick was right. This was a suicide mission: a gambit, throwing everyone's lives into the line of fire.

But it was our only hope. And I have nothing else to live for aside from killing Aleksander.

Without a word, I spun around and began to walk out of the throne room. Before reaching the door, I stopped and turned my head back to Augustus.

"You know as well as I do this is our only hope. I know it's a long shot... but I will not have this nation live under ignorant fear. I'd rather die trying to fight the powers that be."

With that, I stepped through the shadows and phased into the Necromancy Tower, the home of all necromancers and most importantly, the Oracle himself.

Shade was waiting for me. I tossed him the Eye and he caught it nimbly.

"Raise our fallen... and summon the Titans."

Shade looked surprised, "Which ones, milord?"

"... All of them," I said, walking towards the Oracle's chamber.

I approached the ancient door ornamented with magical trinkets that Straum had collected for a long time. Avermond Straum and Shade were the only friends I had in this cursed world. I opened the door and walked into the sacred room.

Straum was levitating mid-air, meditating no doubt.

"Avermond," I said with a sincere smile, "We have recovered the Eye."

I stood at the precipice of clarity, and a blur. In all the years that I've sat here, never before now has my vision been so foggy; hazy from exhaustion. Or was it actually fatigue? Has my true age finally caught up with this old soul and has began to tear it apart? That's unlikely, but not entirely out of the question.

I've lived for a long time, here on this planet. Far longer than Valkarie. Far longer than the taint that I, and those like me, have become. But I do not curse my foul luck for being caught here that day long ago. Heh, it's quite ironic that I bring up luck, considering that I know everything, in a sense. But as everything with a brainstem knows full well, many things are subject, to many outcomes. I never claimed to be a seer, nor the Oracle that the people I hide away with call me. Nay nay. What they, what very sensible people they may be, don't comprehend is that I don't know the future. I don't call to arms the militia and worry kings with my prophecies of doomsday. I simply perceive what I feel. it's hard to explain in mortal words. Everything would be easier if I could convey my thoughts through yours. Perhaps some days I have embellished, possibly even butter cupped rather... Dire events that should come to pass. Surely the initiation of the war was hidden from them. Of course Valkarie's motives were, allegedly, not within my ability to see. A few would ask, 'Why?'. The malicious side of me would say, To protect you from the truth, and I don't even believe that. Whatever the real answer is, It is not of my own free will. It's as if a secondary party is dictating my every action. Then again, the years of each tragedy befalling men and women of different species, of different races, of different civilizations; maybe I've finally cracked under the sway of the rebellions and wars waged in my mind, but never actually happened. Perhaps, I too, have become a heretic?

There is one thing I am sure of; however. Of all the things I know, it's that even with the great power I've been granted, that I can be judged. Not even I can be relinquished of the great weight of the gods most basic crowd control tactic: Morality.

I was broken out of my thoughts as my door, which has not been opened in weeks, creaked slowly, as one of the sons of Eden entered announcing that he had, at long last, acquired an item of great power. I set my feet back onto the ground from my levitating position. I quickly did a three sixty to face a friend, "Gerard," I started softly, a faint smile creasing my lips. Momentarily ignoring his announcement, I approached swiftly and grabbed a hold of his hand in greeting, "My it's been quite a while. You've got the Eye you say? May I see it?"

Shyra watched the necromancers' halls, observing the commanders of the dead who passed in and out. In didn't take long for her to find a target. She made her way into his domain, slipping past the guards and servants, hiding in the shadows that cloaked her excellently. The necromancer's chambers were dark and provided plentiful shadows for the woman. The necromancer, uselessly cloaked in the black his profession favours entered the room, preparing to go about his business. That was, before the shade in one corner he passed by coalesced and black arms grasped the unfortunate man and locked him in position. Shyra emerged, surprising and frightening the hapless spell caster.
"Who are you? What do you want?" He gabbled, desperate. Shyra said nothing as she drew close to him, she brushed a talon along his cheek. The man shied away but the dark skinned shadowmaiden held his attention. "What do you want!?" He cried again, fear in his eyes. "Just holding a grudge," Shyra replied smoothly, "Do you recall a small village you raided 43 years ago? No? Well you missed one small girl in the village." She paused to let the statement sink in, the necromancer's eyes widened as he realised. "And I remember you." She whispered, Shadowglaive stabbing into the necromancer's stomach, the light bursting from in tearing at the dark mage's being. She left the body on the floor, a hole emptying the contents of his abdomen.

Shyra made her way out much the way she went in, unnoticed by everyone in the house. It would be a while before the slaughtered man would be found. The twisted woman smiled as she entered back in the main districts of the city, revenge was sweet.

It had taken nearly all of the day to get here, but he had arrived.

The village had long since been abadonded, leaving the empty shells of houses strewn across the waterfront. Deren walked among the houses, memories coming back like waves. A gnarled old man with curly white hair, sitting on a barrel telling a story. A dog barking at a non-existant pigeon. The sound of fishers trying to sell their ware. This had once been a thriving town.

He continued past the docks, and, looking to his left, saw a tavern with one of its doors in the sand ten feet away. The inside was blackened and dirty. Stools and tables were strewn across a glass covered floor. A single skeleton lay in a corner.

'That was quite a fight,' Deren thought to himself, grinning. 'They thought they had a chance.'

Continueing past the tavern, He headed towards a hill, surrounded by a rusty iron fence that was slowly being reclaimed by the vegetation. He swept past the gates on their hinges and looked around. Everything was as he left it. The manor had only decayed some more since his last visit, which had been a little while ago.

Turning right, Deren headed around the manor and towards the extremely overgrown gardens. He pasted a bench that had been cleaved in two right down the middle and chuckled.

In the middle of the garden stood his destination. A stone grave stood on a raised diase, with its top slightly crooked.

'Thought I closed that,' Deren thought, sighing. Walking over, he began to push the stone lid off. It took a minute and then fell to the ground. In the grave lay bones with an exspensive and worm eaten suit on.

"Still look as good as ever," He said to the skeleton. "Though I remember the suit being red, not black. Oh well, guess it doesn't matter."

He began his spell. Green tendrils of power wafted from the skeleton and into Deren. Magic most vile flowed through him and energized his body. There was a flash of light and Deren slumped over the grave.

"I hate family reunions," he muttered to himself.

Gathering himself, he replaced the lid with a wave of his hand and set off back through the village and back to Ragnos.

Deren passed under the gates, a new energy in his step. He headed towards the necromancer halls. As he went in, he noticed that some one had entered Avermond Struams room.

'Wondered when he was going to get a visit,' Deren thought. 'Now that we have the Eye, It shouldn't be long before we march on the elves.'

Heading towards his room, a passing necromancer called out to him.

"Hey Deren! I thought we were going to spar this afternoon."

"I can beat you up some other time," He replied. "Right now I need to rest."

The necromancer laughed, "Whatever."

Turning into his room, he noticed that his room mate had his guts all over his floor.

'I guess that means I get the room to my self," He thought. Waving his hand, the corpse glowed blue for a moment, then disseapered. Sitting on his bed, Deren knuckled his forehead. Everything on his trip had gone to plan, but something was nagging him.

'Oh yeah, I forgot to stop by the tavern for a drink,' He thought, chuckleing.