The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

A Dark Warning

The festivities from coronation had come to a close and the revelers had all bedded down to sleep off the effects of the great quantities of intoxicants which had been consumed during the many celebrations held across Tanglewood Forest.

The night air is hot and moist, as only the Hills can be during the high season of Sol, before the rains come. And the sound of cicadas echo through the trees as if calling out to the storm spirits themselves.

Out of the blackness steps a shapeless shadow.
It moves as if drifting in the wind though its path lies against the warm breeze.
Stopping at seemingly random spots along the way, the shadow glides in and out of encampments until at last it stops just in front of the royal pavilion.

Within the time of a breath, the shadow takes physical form and produces a rolled piece of thick parchment from within its dark robes. Unrolling the scroll and taking a small dagger from the sheath on its wrist, the shadowy form quietly pins the parchment to a large tent post, then disappears into the night leaving no trace of its passing.

The notice reads…

Unto the Monarch and High Court of the Emerald Hills,

First of all I would like to congratulate the members of the incoming court and to thank them all for stepping up to shoulder what can be a very difficult task of being high officers in our dynamic kingdom.

Next, I commend His Imperial Majesty Czar Forest Evergreen for choosing his court so wisely. Well done, Sir. Surrounding yourself with your belted family certainly insures a high degree of loyalty. I suspect your appointed guards will reflect the same sentiment and will offer a greater challenge than those from the recent past.

As a Knight of the Emerald Hills, I am bound by honor.
Because of that Knightly bond, I must confess that as Guildmaster of Assassins and Anti-paladins, it is my sworn quest to deliver the message of death to all who sit upon the great throne of the Hills, save Darkness itself in all its many forms.

With that in mind, know that I will use all means within my grasp to succeed in my quest. From the sword to the dagger, from the pen to the poison, all will become the weapons of the Dark Guilds.

You have been given fair warning…

Sir Delphos Darkheart
Grandmaster Assassin
Dark Knight of the Emerald Hills

Forest sat in the throne room and re-read the post that had been left at his Coronation. It was time that such things were dealt with. No longer would acts of treason be forgotten after they were attenpted. No longer would people be free from accountability. It was time that the Kingdom was made safe again.

"Call the court scribe. I need some posters made. Some wanted posters."

_________________
Forest Evergreen

Puppet Master of the EH

"Of course you are Forest. You're like the Mr. Burns of EH." - Finn

(insert titles and awards here)

Exile picks up and reads the wanted poster and thinks to him self the glory of taking down the Guildmaster of Assasins by bringing him to the crown, and the feeling of any kings coin in his pocket is just as good as any other coin, he thinks to him-self "this could be a good couple of months if i can get him, but Delphos is a hard target which will make him worth a high price I wonder what his majesty is willing to pay for him."

Exile enters the throne room of Czar Forest Evergreen "i only got one question for you kingy old boy what he worth to you ?"

_________________
Exile
Squire to Sir McFadden
LT. IK Warspeaker of the Saracens

Forest heard the commotion in the antechamber. "What's goin on out there?"

"Some guy came is asking about the reward. Says, he wants to know what the payment is." Draeven reported.

"Tell him if he wants to know, to bring Delphos to me...alive."

With that, Forest turned back to his Champion. "Sir Everlast, ensure the guard continue to admit no one without first seeking my approval. Second, the great Gathering of the Clans is apporaching. We need to prepare the royal escort for the journey. Send word to the other nobels that those who wish to travel may join us."

"What of those who can not travel?" Everlast inquired.

"I believe there will be a local celebration to mark the occasion of the Circle's meeting. See which of our holding wishes to host the event"*




*OOC: Not Clan is being prepared by Sir Delphos. He will be posting the details soon.

_________________
Forest Evergreen

Puppet Master of the EH

"Of course you are Forest. You're like the Mr. Burns of EH." - Finn

(insert titles and awards here)

A Dark Warning Part 2

In the daytime, the manor house on the banks of the River Midnight was shaded by large pecan and mimosa trees and kept dark inside with heavy curtains on most of the windows, allowing only the slightest bit of light to penetrate the sanctuary which the Dark Knight called home.

Un-kept and untidy would be an understatement when describing what years of living a life of neglect had done to the once fine stone dwelling. The grounds had grown by the will of the Bitch herself and in places had even joined with the very stone, causing cracks to form along the melding of wood and rock.

It was during the hours of darkness that the house truly took on a more sinister persona. The trees and rock cast shadows which appeared to shift and move in the torch lit corners and near the stone entryway. The cracks seemed to open wider and deeper, reaching into the very bowels of the earth, inviting the dark things that dwell beneath to climb up to surface and feed.

The inside also reflected the personality of its occupant and his years of seclusion. Books and parchment filled the shelves and spaces everywhere, the floor was carpeted with feline hair and furniture in various stages of dilapidation was arranged in a perfect display of chaotic disarray. Only the staunchest of his friends would stop and spend time surrounded by such a clutter, so when the knock upon his door sounded without warning, it was certainly a surprise to Delphos.

His fur-covered familiars quickly disappeared down the hall to the back portions of the house, where they could listen through the walls and watch through the windows in the spaces between the thick drapes, waiting silently for the stranger to be identified by the only other being they trusted.

“What can I do for you?” asked the Dark Knight, looking through a small hole in the door…
No answer came from the other side.

“What’s your business here?” he asked in a stronger tone, not being able to see anyone through the fisheye opening.

A small voice, as if from a child, sounded from outside the door. But it was the middle of the night, what kind of children would be out at such a time and why would they come here? The questions ran through his mind…

“A message for Sir Delphos…” the voice trailed off.

The squeaking sound of the warn hinges echoed slightly against the entryway’s dimly lit stones, as the Dark Knight slowly opened the door. Peering into the grayness to see who had dared disturbed his solitude, he finds only a small scroll lying at his feet. Reaching just inside the doorway and taking one of the canes from the rack on the wall, he taps the scroll ever so slightly and holds his breath for a few seconds. Then taps the scroll again, this time with more force. Nothing happens.

After a third time, Delphos picks up the scroll and looking deeply into the darkness beyond the illumination of the small lamps in the entryway, his cat-eyes pick out a squat form with a scaled covered tail scampering away and quietly vanishing into the shadows of the mid-summer night.

A fleeting thought passes through his mind… “Larry?”

Stepping back inside and shutting the door, the Dark Knight examines the scroll more carefully. It bears the Imperial Seal.

Sitting down at his desk, he opens the lowest drawer on the right and finds his set of finely crafted picks and tools. Taking great care not to destroy the intricate design of the Winged Serpent made of what looked to be the finest beeswax, the expert assassin skillfully separates the parchment from the seal, unrolls the scroll and begins to read…

After a few moments he leans back in his chair and begins to laugh.
Softly at first, with just a hint of unbalanced amusement.
Then slowly deepening and rising in volume.

“… left it open did you?” he laughs.

“… going in, uh?”…manifest destiny?” he laughs again, louder with the tint of insanity.

“… catch me ‘alive’?” the laughter grows even louder.

“… one kind of evil to destroy another?” demonic laughter erupts from deep within the darkest recesses of his soul.

“What fools!” speaks a voice from within the Dark Knight yet no longer that of Delphos.

“It’s not a question of Evil… It’s a Question of Balance!”

A Dark Warning Part 3

The hot days under the blazing eye of Sol seemed to stretch for eternity. Time stood still in the sweltering heat as if a great hand had stopped the turning of the earth and held it fast under the gaze of the fiery orb.

Drops of sweat pored off the unprotected brow of the master assassin as he strolled about the baronial pavilion disguised as a simple merchant. The ruse worked well and soon he was sitting safely and with little notice beside the incoming Baroness of the Glen. Taking a silken cloth from the bag of trinkets he had brought to sell, Delphos dried his head and neck as well as he could, considering the humid conditions.

Knowing the reputation the Glen had, of offering sanctuary to a known fugitive and outcast, the Dark Knight felt able to drop his guard, if only a little. He had friends as well as enemies here and hopefully he would be able to glean some insight from both sides.

Rumors had spread like the wildfires carried on the western winds and everywhere he listened, the air was alive with the sound of whispers. Whispers of portals and demons, of succubus and incubus. Whispers of Czar Forest and the Dragon Lords driving the Emerald Army into the very heart of the void, of Imperial Troops hunting for Sir Delphos and of Saracen Bounty Hunters attempting to bring the Dark Knight in alive. Whispers of a dark book from an ancient city where empires had turned to sand a millennium ago.

“Pompeii…” thought Delphos.
“So, they found it.” he said softy to himself.
“This is going to be Bad.”

Blending into the ground cushions, the master assassin quietly began his chant…
“teleport… teleport… teleport” the air around him began to shimmer.
“teleport… teleport… teleport” his body became translucent.
“teleport… teleport… teleport” a slight chill was felt around him.
“teleport” he completely vanished as if he had never been there.

A Dark Warning Part 4

Returning to his manor house, the Dark Knight pored over tomb after dusty tomb searching for a single scrap of paper, a scrap of paper he was sure he had kept hidden over these many years. For this paper held the only known map to the ruins of an ancient city whose name had been obscured by time and sand a millennium before Delphos had ever been born or crossed over into the Realm.

In his day, they called the ruins “Pompeii” after another ancient city. But unlike its namesake, the Pompeii he knew was not destroyed by a volcano. It was like nothing from any world of the past, present or even future that anyone could imagine.

Great pillars stood in various places, as if once suggesting a complex structure the shape of which had been lost through the centuries. Many had fallen, some leaned against another as if weaken by time and in need of support from a stronger comrade. All forgotten sentinels, all still standing in homage to form the temple of a long lost divinity to an extinct race whose existence had been covered in sand since the beginning of time itself.

Pompeii… Where many an Amtgardian had spent a night, a drink and a stranger than fiction experience. Pompeii… where the stone itself burned with blue hell-fire that could not be doused by any known means. Pompeii… where Demons rose from the very sand and possessed even the wild spirit of the Coyotes that dwelled all around it.

The Dark Knight held many a lingering memory from his time spent in the more ancient than ancient of ruins. If someone had found the tombs long buried in the dark corners of Pompeii… then the Realm was truly in danger.

He needed more information…
He needed to contact the Mages…!!!

But he was now being hunted… and the inside of an Imperial Prison cell was not where he wanted to spend his time. And if Czar Forest was in possession of a relic from Pompeii and planed to take it into the Void… then he had to be stopped!

The Portal had opened because the Realm had become unbalanced, of that he was sure. The Bitch of the Wood had told him years ago that one day the Hills would fall into the Abyss. That neither darkness nor light would hold sway as long as the Void was open.

She had told him that a balance must be found or all would be destroyed. The Realm would be no more and the Void would be everything.

His smattering of Druidic experience was of little help to him now and his own Demon would simply feed on other dark creatures within the Void, leaving Delphos himself to fade from existence…

He had to contact the Mages…!!!

A Dark Warning Part 5

Since the first appearance of the new age, the power of magic had been on the decline within the Realm. Great Wizards no longer controlled the battlefields with mighty spells, sweeping back armies with tremendous gusts of wind or sending forth huge fireballs that would easily melt the strongest of armor and crackling bolts of lightning that would leave only charred and black holes in the earth, where once stood the fiercest barbarians.

The ancient houses of the magical arts had been disbanded long ago. The standard schools had been restructured and the old ways had been lost and forgotten. The magical guilds had all but disappeared along with most of the other guilds except perhaps the assassins, though the few who still wore the mask of a Sin had become as insubstantial as the very shadows themselves.

The Sword ruled the Realm of the present and the Dragon Lords wielded that sword with all the power of a Dynasty that stretched across the last six generations. Some had never known a reign without a Dragon upon the throne. Those who claimed no alliance to the Scaled Serpent, quickly changed their minds, joined the ranks and donned the belt to mark them as Company. For some it was a smart move, others saw it as a compromise they weren’t willing to make.

Holding near absolute power over the Hills and lead by the Czar himself, the Dragon Lords were free to pursue any resistance to their rule even into the darkest depths of the Void. With generations of Mages holding strict allegiance to the Kingdom, they would be impressed into service for the Czar’s quest to take the fight into very mouth of the abyss.

Would any Wizard even listen to Delphos? There had to be at least one Mage who still remembered the ancient ways, one from the old world who would help the Dark Knight. But there was only one way to find out…
Delphos must go to the Circle of the Magi and trust that his own druidic skills would allow him to pass the tests in order to enter and his assassin training would get him out alive.

A Dark Warning Part 6

The Circle of Magi…
The very words themselves conjured images of powerful beings gathered together in some grand tower, resting high above the clouds as if somehow suspended in air by the force of their combined energies.

Truth be told, there was no great tower high in the clouds…
It had not existed since the legendary wizards whose names were only spoken in the tales from the ancients themselves. Names such as Garath, Mogar, Nasomi and Tawnee had long since been replaced by so many that had never know the realm before the new age of the sword.

The Dark Knight himself had only just begun his sojourn into the mystical ways of natural magic when the realm had undergone the change which swept away all that had come before in the blink of an eye. Abandoning the path the Bitch had chosen for him, Delphos instead fought to hold his own guild together through the upheaval and the Assassins did indeed survive well into the new age, taking one of their own all the way to the rank of monarch. Grand Inquisitor Sutra saw the golden age of the Assassin rise to its greatest heights, only to fall back into the shadows from whence it had come.

That had been many years ago and the Dragon Lords had long since pushed the guilds aside as unimportant to the greater cause of unification. With the Portal being left open, the Imperial troops would be conscripting the warriors into the Emerald Army and with them the barbarians would follow, lead by their own king who worn his loyalty on his waist proudly. The rest of the guilds would certainly fall into stride and march with the others straight into the abyss…

The Dark Knight knew he had to find and convince the Circle of Magi to stop Czar Forest from entering the Void, but he had no idea how. Or did he?

Perhaps he had the answer all along…
After all, wasn’t his own squire an accomplished practitioner of the magical arts?

“Of course!” he said to himself…

“Sutra holds the key!”

With the words still forming on his lips, Delphos prepared for his next journey.
This time he traveled to Artus Pass…

A Dark Warning Part 7

Four generations of growth and prosperity had brought Artus Pass, the once small shire that dared to establish itself near the lands of the Midnight Sun, to the level of Barony.
The coffers were full and the people were mostly content and except for the occasional appearance of a random monster here and there, life in the Pass was good.

With prosperity however, came other not so pleasant influences and rivalries. No matter how tranquil a population may appear on the surface, someone is always wanting more than what they have. Some are even willing to kill in order to obtain such desires and others willing to die rather than give up what they hold. The struggle for power continues through the ages… even where life seems Good.

The day was hotter than normal and several white clouds floated across an otherwise clear blue sky. The light breeze in the air made for a beautiful afternoon, as many Nobles gathered to celebrate the newly crowned Baron. To attend the event and represent the ever present authority of Empire and Czar Forest, the High Prince himself had traveled all the way from his Royal Palace, in the Shire of Eagles near the gateway to the northern lands of Dreadmoore.

To the surprise of many, including the Dark Knight himself, the Baron had commissioned the building of a great wall to commemorate the occasion and the prosperity of the lands he had founded. Yes, the Dark Knight’s Squire had done quite well over the years…
Having served as Grand Inquisitor, Sutra now bore the title of Duke, outranking even his knight in noble status. His deeds were known in all corners of the kingdom and his name was spoken with deep respect in most circles. But none are without enemies…

When Delphos arrived on the outskirts of the Baronial lands, he could already hear the sounds of battle in the distance. It seemed that the wall, so recently erected, was already under attack. A ranking officer in the guard had felt cheated during the recent baronial competition and had gathered a small group of discontented solders to assault the assembly, seeking to take by force what he could not gain through skill and experience.

Taking full advantage of his position behind the attackers, the Dark Knight killed the first solder in his path and then another before he reached the opening of the wall. The defenders had at least one bowman in the tower and several fighters held the line with spears. The Baron was directing his forces well and the attacking solders had been unable to penetrate the interior of the new fortress.

As Delphos finally made his way to the front of the combat, he felt an all too familiar feeling coming from his left shoulder. The burning sensation spreading to the rest of his body was unmistakable. He saw the spear tip dripping with his own blood as it found its mark a second time. One of the defenders had stabbed him, not once but twice and he fell to the ground at the very opening of the wall. All went black and Dark Knight’s soul swam in the plane between the realms for a time…

Fionnigan read the note then wadded the parchment into a ball, and threw it in his pestle and mortar. He picked up a pinch of greenish black powder from a tray sitting nearby, and tossed it in after the parchment. He than poured a small amount of water into the stone mortar, and the parchment ignited with a white flash.

Fionnigan steepled his hands on his desk, and peered down at the ashen remains of the missive. The message had been from Sir Delphos, the head of the Assassins Guild. Sir Delphos was, according to rumor, a living shadow. It was said that he traded his soul for the power of utter darkness years ago. It was also whispered in pubs and around campfires that he and Sir Nevron weren't really humans. It was suggested to Fionnigan multiple times that they were ancient forces of nature and justice that protected and watched over the hills, and feasted on the souls of those who would try to harm the realm. Of course Fionnigan dismissed much of this as drunken ramblings and unfounded conjecture, but it said that there is a truth in every legend. How much was always open for debate.

So it would seem the lord of shadows would have words with him. Fionnigan wasn't exactly sure how he should approach this. No matter what he was in truth, Sir Delphos was now an enemy of the state. Not that that mattered much to Fionnigan. He had certainly stood shoulder to shoulder with outlaws in the past. Depending on who was sitting on the throne, anyone in the realm could be an outlaw. Yet he didn't concern himself as much with Sir Delphos current or past reputation, so much as with why he would want to see him in the first place.

“What could he possibly want to discuss with me?” Fionnigan wondered as he stood from his high back chair.

Of course he would go and see Sir Delphos there was no debate necessary. He had been searching for answers for weeks and had continually come up short. He could find no way to undo what was now keeping this portal to the void open in the realm. There seemed to be no way of closing a trans-planer portal once it was opened. He had an idea of what lay on the other side of the portal, and when the king's army came retreating back out of the portal his fears were confirmed. There was a great ancient on the other side of the portal. The things he had heard whispered about in the days following the army's retreat were horrifying, and were similar to things he had heard associated with the great ancient ones. There had been stories of soldiers being driven completely mad upon breaching the portal thresh hold, and slaughtering their entire line before being brought down by their comrades. Fionnigan had even heard one of the commanders hair had turned completely white, and the man had lapsed into a catatonic state at the sight of what lay beyond that wound of the todash.

With this as a motivator Fionnigan decided that going to speak to Sir Delphos would be within his best interest, no matter the possible Imperial entanglements. Fionnigan looked once more to the pile of ash laying in his mortar, and decided he would need to somehow get a message concerning his intent to the dark knight. He would need to make his way to the Emerald City, and from there he could sort out what his next move would be.

_________________
"A mind needs books as a sword needs a wetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.”
Tyrion Lannister

I do not suffer fools gladly, and fools with white belts never.

Mortem proditoribus.

A Dark Warning Part 8

How does one truly measure time?
Is it marked by the passing of the great orb of fire through the azure sky?
Is it calculated by the movement of bright stars across the vastness of space?
Or is it worn into the lines of an old man’s face as he takes his last breath…

Delphos awoke with a startled shiver running down his spine…
He had no idea where he was, or for that matter when he was.
The space around him was completely devoid of light.
The silence was broken only by the sound of his own heart beating faintly within his chest. He was in fact, still alive… or was he?

Thinking back over the course of events, the dark knight tried to re-trace the steps he had taken to bring him to this place… wherever this place happened to be.

He had been looking for a way to contact the Mages and gain access to the halls of the Emerald Library. Find a way to stop Czar Forest from sending the armies into the Void… What had he done next…?

He vaguely recalled using some simple druidic magic. Teachings he received from the Bitch herself, during his short time of serious study in the arts. He had sent messages in the script of the old guilds from the ancient kingdoms and bid them to find their own way to their intended recipients. Though not always successful, it had worked on occasion and with time running out, Delphos was running out of options.

After setting the myriad of feathers to the winds, the dark knight began his journey to the Pass and to his Squire…

“The Wall…!!!” his voice sounded deep and echoed for what seemed like a lifetime.

He had died! Yet again. But if he had died… where was the demon?
It should be strong and very vocal…
No voice came from inside. No voice at all.

He waited again in silence…

Then he thought he heard his name. He listened closely…
There it was again, as if on the very edge of reality. On tip of his consciousness.

“Sir Delphos?” said the voice.
“Sir Delphos? Can you hear me?”

The dark knight opened his eyes. The dimly lit room was warm and smelled of herbs and oils and other things… of inks and parchment and musty books… it smelled of Magic.

“Sir Delphos!” said the voice of Fionnigan Hellblazer. “Welcome back!”

A Dark Warning Part 9

“And a sea of blood and darkness…” said Delphos as he sipped a bit of brandy from the crystal goblet the mage had given him.

“What else?” the mage asked, sitting on the edge of his comfortable wingback chair, his eyes bright and wide at the telling of the dark knight’s dream.

“That’s all I can remember, Finn.” Said the Anti-paladin.
“The next thing I knew… I was here.”

“And… the …. Demon?” Finn asked with care.

The dark knight looked deeply into the eyes of the wizard he had known for many long ages…
“Silent…” he said in a low voice.
“And that scares the hell out of me.”

The mage looked back at his friend…

“You can’t go to King’s Point with a price on your head Delphos. That would be suicide!” Finn stood up and began to pace, taking a few steps in one direction then turning quickly on his heel and taking a few more in the other before spinning around again, ringing his hands together all the while.

“Calm down Finn. They’re not supposed to kill me, remember?”

With the sound of those words still traveling the distance needed to reach the mage’s ears, the dark knight opened the only door and stepped out into the warm evening air.
It was strange not to hear the ever-present voice in his head, but he made his way toward the Point despite the absence…

If the Saracens truly wanted him alive, then they would pay dearly for their prize!

The last brick has been laid with much jubilation. The Keep of Artus Pass had been completed just in time for the festivities of Coronation. Sutra the Merchant had managed to take his small wooden wagon, filled to the brim with scented fans, shields, and pretty shinies into the hot mazes of Tanglewood Forest.

Much was discussed and shared in such a short period of time. He witnessed debauchery and drunken altercations. Singing and sweating, all at the same time. The shade watched as familiar faces came and went. He was able to fill his purse with enough coin to pay for trip, barely covering costs of materials. But he loved it. Sutra loved the shop he had purchased from Sir Galen. The dark one spent many days alone in the woods as he fitted the shop to meet his requirements.

And the shop loved him. It provided protection from the blistering sun. It gave him a space where he could stretch out and breath. It gave him a place to call home away from home.

It was good.

The shade also had glimpses, fragmented memories of pleading with king Alby's forces to help him retrieve pieces of parchments. Sutra attempted to recall all of the details, but fuzzy images filled his head. The faces of bloodthirsty warriors as they set out to destroy the guardians of the portal and keep it open trickled away into distant corners of his mind.

His ride back home was long and tiring. He sang out loud, his voice echoing between the motionless branches above. The hot was dry and punishing, but Sutra pushed on knowing he'd be home soon to a bath, a warm meal and a new bed.

The road shimmered like a thousand coiling snakes. A figure lay motionless. Dressed in white, the man lay still. Sutra's heart stopped.

'Delphos?'

The squire leapt from his squeaky seat and rushed to the aide of his knight. The sound of the forest instantaneously muffled. The colors of nature took an unnatural gray hue. All things solid ghosted, blurred hints of what they were. Time slowed to a crawl and then stopped. The dark mage could feel it in his spirit.

'Delphos!' shouted the young man.

Shapes began to materialize. Warriors and magic casters stood frozen around him. The new walls of Artus Pass stood defiantly. The gates had not yet been completed, but the furious grimace on the men and women protecting it looked like grotesque illustrations.

Sutra slid to a stop as he stared at the labyrinth of ghosts.

Remembering his reason for urgent action rushed back.

Delphos painfully rolled over to his side and smiled.

'I'm alright, just caught a little bit of the death.' reassured the dark knight.

Sutra stared in confusion. 'You sure you're ok?'

Time began to crawl again. The men and women slowly began to move and fade away. The gray stone walls of the keep became more and more transparent. Soon, all that remained was Delphos' eyes and grin before disappearing.

Sutra stood on the desolate road.

'Reyna's Beard...' muttered the assassin.

Rushing back to his wagon, Sutra produced a cloak and a single blade. Whispering to his trusted steed, Sutra reminded him not to stop and take apples from strangers and to not forget to turn right at the Great Divide.

Slowly stepping back, Sutra closed his eyes and focused. He recalled the hazy Canto del Gemelo. Beads of sweet dripped off of his eyebrows and unto his nose and eyes. The sweet stung but not enough to distract him.

The electric charge in the air provided positive feedback, assuring him he was on the right track.

Slowly peeking with the last word of the chant, Sutra peered as the image of a hooded figure. The illusionary man sat holding imaginary reins. This pleased the dark mage.

Slapping the brown horse on his flank, the rickety wagon made its way along driven by an illusion.

Not wasting anytime, Sutra whispered the words of teleportation and was gone. He was shown a vision and everything in his gut told him it was not a daydream. Something told him that he was needed at the walls of Artus Pass.

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

The shade materialized on the outskirts of the Barony. Following the billowing columns of black smoke and the screams of the dying, Sutra made his way to the castle gates. Broken goblin bodies littered the battlefield. Men and women were being tended to, shattered bone and bleeding wounds were being healed. Mertag and Aria stood next to a tired healer.

Delphos lay motionless, his pool of blood seeping into the thirsty earth.

'I tried everything I know and it's not working...' nervously spoke the expert healer.

Mertag gripped the handle of his broad-sword. 'If you don't fix him medic...then you'll have to find someone to fix you..."

'Mertag.' exclaimed Aria. 'We need as many of the healers alive.'

The three figures heard the approaching figure.

'And where in the Emerald Hills have you been!?' demanded Aria.

'Was on my way back from Coronation and...'

'Sutra's here. Let him try.' interrupted Mertag before shoving the healer aside.

Sutra chuckled at the sight and sound of familiar faces.

'How long?' asked the squire.

'Less than an hour. We managed to push back the last wave of goblins before we noticing Delphos trying to push his way into the keep.' Aria stated.

Sutra knelled as his knight's side and listened for a moment. The empty husk that resembled his mentor seemed unworldly. The devilish grimace was replaced by a pained but peaceful smile.

The dark mage gathered strength from the aether that surrounded all living things. The ancient's spirit was a whole different beast. Dangerous to summon if at all possible. Sutra would at least try to place a beacon for the fallen knight's soul to follow.

Placing his hand on the Guildmaster's right shoulder, Sutra whispered. 'Rise and fight again...'

Sir Delphos' body jerked. Nothing.

Sutra's chant remained unbroken.

The knight jolted once more and deeply inhaled before exhaling one word, only to remain in a deep slumber.

'Hellblazer.'

Sutra provided instructions to Mertag and Aria, reminding them to expect the return of his unmanned wagon sometime in the early morning.

Gathering what little strength he had, Sutra teleported himself and his knight to place where they would find Fionnigan.

_________________
The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

A Dark Warning Part 10

“I’m taking you home, old man. I’m taking you home.”

Master Seal spoke in voice steeped in admiration and gratitude to the dark knight, then both of their bodies shimmered and disappeared…

Ignoring Finn’s warning and the price on his head, Delphos had traveled to the Barony of King’s Point. The opportunity to steal the new baron’s crown was just too much for the dark knight to pass up. He knew that the Saracens would be waiting for him, but that fact simply added to the temptation all the more. The deep woods of the Point were treacherous enough under normal circumstances and with the Red & Black wanting him alive… well, this would certainly invite a chance to turn the hunters into the hunted. And Cats do love to hunt.

Without the voice of the constant presence deep in his dark soul, Delphos had reconnected with the part of his psyche controlled by his innermost cat spirits.
The lynx, the mountain lion and the tiger all held powerful dominion within his hierarchy of sprit guides and they imparted certain abilities and characteristics to the dark knight.

The knowing of secrets and hidden things… the swiftness, agility and wit… the temper!
All these things came to the master assassin from his totem cats. Legend had it that the Cat Lord itself had crossed from the ethereal world into the physical plane and possessed the dark knight’s body. Though none alive had ever seen this transformation, anyone who knew Delphos knew of his affinity for cats and his resemblance to the feline race.

It was by no accident that he had become the captain of The Pride, having been Sir Nevron Dreadstar’s first lieutenant from the very birth of the company and second only to Sir Theo Blackflame in the Golden Lions long before that. Even while donning the colors of blood and darkness he was always feline, the Storm Cats being one of the original twelve Saracen Tribes from the lands that burn, far to the west.

Yes, long ago Delphos had been a Saracen Chieftain himself. Now he was being hunted by some of his old kinsmen. Not without a sense of irony, the dark knight laughed to himself at the entire situation. He may surely die this day, for as they say ‘curiosity killed the cat’. However, part of that statement has been lost in obscurity over the millennium and curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back…


The ambush had gone perfectly by the numbers, each Cat following its own instincts and each taking the task best suited for its particular talents…

Two, three, four Saracens went down to the blades of black and silver. The cats had broken cover and brought the fight right to the enemy. Hurried shouts sounded from the pavilion where the agents of blood and darkness had already slaughtered the majority of the populace, saving only their own initiates and leaving the rest to the carrion birds that had already began to gather and feed upon the fresh kills.

“It’s Delphos!” cried a loud voice. And the entire gathering of Saracens took to the trails into the deep woods, hot on the hunt for their prize. To capture him alive!

Having struck the first blow, the Pride cut and ran quick as the wind down several paths and into the thickets where few would follow. The Saracens formed skirmish lines and began the systematic search for the outlaw, their ranks stretching out for yards in order to cover more ground.

Only a few Cats had joined their captain yet they made their presence known and felt, attacking the larger group at different points then trailing off to disappear into the shadowy embrace of the Bitch. The small force of Saber Tooth distracted and disrupted the Saracens well enough to hold them off for a while.

Avatar, Tuk and Fenris each worked on their own keeping the black & red away from Delphos, while Arcie stayed close to her captain and defended him with her own life’s blood. Though all of the Pride fought well, the superior numbers of the Saracens was simply too much for the Cats and they finally surrounded the dark knight.

As the sea of blood and darkness washed over him, Delphos recalled the dream he had described to Finn… He remembered every death his body had experienced. He recalled the pain of every wound, the feeling of leaving the bounds of mortality, the blackness of the abyss and the sound of the demon laughing deep inside his soul.

The dark knight reached out to the closest attacker…
“Touch of Death!” he spoke the trigger words to activate his deadly ability, but his enemy was unaffected. Then he felt the sting of metal biting into his flesh, the warmth of his own blood poring from the open gash and the weakness of his life’s force falling away.

The Demon laughed…
“You have failed!” said the entity, pointing at the Saracen who had mistakenly delivered the death blow. As the body of the dark knight collapsed to the ground he felt two arms close around him.

“Teleport… teleport… teleport…” the words were spoken quickly…
“Teleport…teleport…teleport…teleport…teleport…teleport…teleport”

Delphos looked up at the face of his friend. The face of a Saracen initiate. The face of Master Seal. With his last breath he spoke in a quite voice to his friend…
“What are you doing…?” he asked.

“I’m taking you home old man. I’m taking you home.”