[The Dreamer]

IC: Ravire
Sanctum of the Masks

The Asmodian wearing a red veil, named Ravire, sat strait in his chair, gazing upon his fellow comrades. They too wore mask, no one who held a seat would be without one, as they were both used to protect the identity and safety of its wearer, in case of spies. That was impossible of course; no one who did not belong there, could enter the Sanctum without being detected, and they would certainly not live long enough to see anyone's face! Still, rats always did seem to turn up the moment you thought it safe enough to pick the up the traps. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling; the room was a good two hundred meters in hight, and the top was lost in the shadows giving a sense of endlessness. Ravire swallowed; that always made him uneasy. Looking down quickly, he observed the room he was in. It was once used as an underground arena, or so they said, from long ago and judging by the architecture it would make since. It was oval in shape and had seven layers of rows containing seats; the people sitting, wearing a certain color for the specific row. The colors on the masks were used as a way to display their rank among the Sanctum; his color, the Red, was the second highest. The face behind his Ravire's mask scowled, I should have been raised to Black by now; I deserve it. The Blacks were the highest rank, second only to the White which only one wore, and they resided on the bottom row. The White Mask was their most revered leader, and held absolute rule over them. No one new who he was, only that he personally chose who was to be raised rank, and that he held amazing power.

A gong sounded from somewhere, and soon a figure cloaked fully in white and wearing the Holy White Mask, appeared from among the shadows. One of the Blacks next to him, rose immediately and spoke loudly for all to hear, "It comes, it comes! The salvation, it comes! Let all who he deems worthy, recite the praise, less they be taken to endless suffering!" Ravire rose immediately, along with everyone else, and they chanted in unison, "Great master of the forces, face shrouded in the escaping light; place your ever watching gaze upon our souls, and purge them of their filth. Let your shadow sweep the land, and strike down our enemies with your scythe. Let none unworthy even hear of your name, but deliver unto them a maddening death. It comes, it comes, the blessed nightmare comes." The White Mask took his seat and afterwards all followed. The White motioned to another Black on his left, who stood. "You are all aware by now," he began, "Of the recent happenings of Mad Wolf who has been missing now for five weeks. He was last seen in the company of a captain by the name of Karnage, who is charged with treason. Karnage's second in command, templar Purifier, escaped with help from an unknown force that we assume was of Mad Wolf's doing. On his last assignment, three escorts and the assignor Eysa, were sent to Mad Wolf. He killed the escorts, as well as attacked assignor Eysa; she committed suicide two weeks ago. The assignment he was given was the collection of a tome that was being held at an Elyos fortress. After the distraction that had been deployed failed, we believe Mad Wolf may have sought help. Information gathered has confirmed that he was in company with another sorcerer who's identity is unknown at this time.” Murmurs broke out among the crowd; Mad Wolf never worked with others. Ravire grimaced; could Mad Wolf have been planning this from the beginning? That was impossible, he knew. Mad Wolf was, of course, insane, hence his name; the idea that he would be able to formulate a plan, and have waited so long to execute was beyond terrifying.

The Black who had been speaking let the others quiet down a little before clearing his throat and continuing, “It is the will of The White that has ordered the retrieval of this tome as well as the elimination of any who may be in contact with Mad Wolf; he, as the salvation has commanded, must be taken alive.” Outrage broke out among the Masks. Everyone knew of Mad Wolf's power, and of the legends that surrounded him; killing him would have been hard enough, but to capture him alive was suicidal! Outbursts of protest began being shouted, which lead to arguments among the stands. “Alive?! What good would do that do? Kill the wretched beast!”

“You fool! The great White Salvation has commanded it! Dare you go against his will?”

“No he's right! Mad Wolf cannot be controlled! This is proof!”

“You doubt His will? You doubt the White?!”

“I experienced first hand Mad Wolf's power! It was horrible! Does the White think us as expendable
as those poor souls he sent as sacrifice for the Tome?”

Ravire winced a little after hearing that last. The mask did come in handy for situations like these, as no one could really tell who had said what. Still, that statement was very close to blasphemy. Without warning the White rose from his seat. “YOU ALL WILL BE SILENT!” Ravire clasped his hands to his ears. The sound was deafening, and felt as if thousands of locust were tearing away at his brain. Nerveless, the shock of the outburst brought everyone to a frozen silence. Slowly, those who had been standing returned to their seats. After a long pause, that voice returned, much gentler this time. The White's voice was indescribable; it was as if the exact tone kept escaping the memory for some reason. Ravire long figured out that it must have been used as a way to prevent others from figuring out his identity by his voice. “Do not think I have abandoned you, my children,” The White spoke slowly, “I have long since known of your limitations and utter uselessness to my goals.” In unison all the Masks replied, “Forgive us Great Master, we are unworthy to be the dirt you tread upon.”

“Indeed you are,” The White continued, “However, even those lower than dirt, can find salvation if I so desire it and I do not kill wastefully. I have set the wheels in motion to bind Mad Wolf once and for all, and to retrieve the Tome.”

“Tell us your plan Great Master!” someone shouted, and from another, “Yes, how is it that you shall release us from our chains?!”

“I have summoned forth one who has the ability to capture Mad Wolf, and with his aid you shall have nothing to fear.” Raising his hand towards a metal door way, The White curtly commanded, “Bring forth...Belial.” The four serving men quickly obeyed, pulling open the heavy doors. A eerie fog came rushing through the entrance, quickly overcoming the bottom floor. From the fog, came two figures; slowly approaching the center of the arena. Ravire watched as a lovely young woman with long dark hair and dressed in deep velvet, came into view, closely following the trail of a gnarled old beast of a man who used a staff, made of what appeared to be iron wood, as support. Was this Belial? It was not what he had been expecting; a bent backed ancient, with untamed hair and beard dressed in torn gray rags, accompanied by a pretty girl with shining dark hair. Apparently others shared his thoughts, as he could pick up the traces of whisperings among his fellows and could see others beginning to shift in their seats awkwardly. The girl's head began to swivel, looking back and forth among the crowds. No, not looking...Ravire gaped as soon as he saw her eyes. They were pure white. She can't look; she's blind. Still they way she moved her head, made it appear as if she was observing the others. Abruptly the old man struck the end of his staff on the ground, creating a ringing sound that echoed throughout the stadium. He tilted his head, peering strait up, and froze; his sightless companion began circling him. People began to grow more restless, and whispers grew more dense. Ravire stared at the old man, he's looking strait up, straight into that darkening void... The Masks grew more restless still, and murmuring was now clearly audible. He glanced over at The White, who stood as if this was expected; Ravire glanced back to the strange old man. Is he insane? Why is he just standing there? What is he looking at?! What is he doing?! That endless dark void...he just keeps staring at it!

Finally, after he could no longer take it, Ravire burst out, “Is this where we are to place our hope?! Into a senile fool and his blind servant?! How does-” He cut short as he realized what he was now seeing. The elder still stood where he was, unchanged; the girl however, was staring straight at him now. No...No, she couldn't be. How would she know? She must be staring only at my general direction... As if hearing his own thoughts, she quickly raised her arm, her finger pointing straight at him. Sweat began to drip down the side of Ravire's brow, he could hear the thumping of his heart; the drumming sound of fear. She just stayed there pointing...waiting. Waiting? Waiting for what?! This is crazy, it's insane! He looked at her, and glanced to the old man; glanced at her, and back to the old man again. Why is he just standing there?! WHAT IS HE LOOKING AT?! Unexpectedly, he felt a wet substance fall onto his arm. Looking down at it he saw a slimy black substance now rested there. Trembling he looked to where that substance had fallen from; into that endless abyss that made him feel uneasy. Ravire didn't even have time to scream.


IC: Belial
Sanctum of the Mask

Belial slowly tilted his head back down to a more comfortable position. The creature made quick work of whatever poor soul it had taken, as a rain of blood came splashing down on those unfortunate enough to have been sitting close to the now dead Asmodian. Commotion broke out; and more than one female screamed. Singing screams; you like the screams too don't you? Mikone, quickly lowered her arm and returned to his side kneeling next to him. He patted her head gently; it was good that she was obedient, female Asmodians were often to be ungrateful for his training. Mikone was better though; she had been in his possession since her birth, after all. She bore no real expression on her face, and her blind eyes stared into nothingness. Her sight had been a small price for the abilities he had bestowed upon her. He coldly looked towards the one dressed in white. As if it had been a cue The White spoke, quickly making all the others fall silent in adherence, “As you all see. Some who doubt too much, soon feel the harshness of decay. Belial has now demonstrated to us the consequences of those who lack faith in my word.”

“A presence in shadows, is what it is,” Belial spoke rapidly; his voice like dust, resounding throughout the floor. “Called from ruined darkness, and forged by almighty sin; it knows why it liveth naught. This fragment of forgotten race, a remnant to his kin; from chaotic depths I brought...”

“You are indeed as I hoped for,” The White interluded, “Go forth and bring us Mad Wolf bound in chains, I will send with you-”

“No,” Now it was Belial turn to interrupt, “Wolf's often hide in sheep's skin; tell me what kind of creature would hide in a wolf's? I feel him now, his presence, a ghost among the living. How long has he waited, and remained hidden? He hungers now, that beast, who was once a man...a father. He wears the crown of madness now, and leads the end time. Where shall you lead you pack, oh hound of bedlam? In one he wields darkness, with the other he grasps for light; when he has both, the two will join and all will be in twilight forever more. I will choose only four to accompany me.” The White must have caught the emphasis Belial put on the “I”, as The White answered irritably, “Of course, as you wish.” Satisfied, Belial turned to leave, Mikone quickly following close behind; she would never leave his side for long. He still had preparations to make, and choose where to begin this wild hunt. How long, Mad Wolf, how long do you think you can bear it...The Dreamer. Do you still bear visons of fire when you close your eyes?


IC: The Dreamer
Deep Forest on Elyosian territory.

Dreamer cursed under his breath as Purifier almost tripped on yet another root. His armor had been nothing but a nuisance ever since this ordeal began, and more than once did Dreamer seriously contemplate killing him and just find another with Purifier's possessed trait. Glaring at him, purifier quickly returned an apologetic look. The Dreamer gave a long, irritated sigh; he had forgotten the pains of traveling with more than just himself. They had all left the crystal cave a good five days ago, and were making relatively good progress under such strenuous conditions. Akaris walked beside Dreamer, With Karnage directly behind him, and Purifier next to Karnage. Occasional Akaris would try to make small talk with him, asking questions about all manner of things; such as different ways elements could be manipulated, and what all different personal abilities were out there. The Dreamer had been training them as much as he could, though it had been difficult having three different students and limited time. Karnage had initially uttered protest at the extra work. “You said though if I passed the test you gave then you would accept that my training was done with.”

“I said,” The Dreamer responded, “That if you passed the test. Not all three of you. The way I see it, you cheated.” The expression on Karnage's face was more than satisfying. Each night, or whenever Dreamer desired, he would take one and have them perform various exercises, memorize certain lessons, perform special task, etc. If it was Akaris' turn, he would have Purifier and Karnage spar against one another; if it was the turn of either those two, he would send Akaris to perform meditational drills. He did however throw Akaris once or twice, in with Karnage and Purifier, to learn basic evasion techniques. Probably should have warned him before I threw him in there that first time. The Dreamer grinned darkly. A loud clanking noise, tore him away from his thoughts. He turned on Purifier, “Do you wish for us to be heard by a Elyos ranger squadron so desperately, that you find it necessary to bang that junk of metal you call armor, on every rock and tree we pass?!”

Tag: Purifier, Karnage, Akaris.