Garthag stepped into the air, and Semri quickly charged after him on Rano's back, arriveing beside him. "No offense Garthag, but i don't trust you at all." she said almost apoligetically. She looked round at the carnage. "Whats the point, its not as if they get anything out of it."

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Garthag took a deep breath and sighed, he gazed quickly at Semri.

"This is not what I wanted nor planned, this is not what I ordered the crystal to do yet it somehow made a concious decision to lead me here... and... I sense another portal nearby. Someone else is here from the future and what you are witnessing the tragic battle after, which the whole world was left scared...

All tough... in a grim way... It`s beatiful..."

Garthag said quietly as he gazed a white dragon fall down from the skies and die as it collided with the ground, Garthag turned his sight to search the surroundings for any possible figures outside the battle.

"I say we kill those that used the other portal, they shouldn`t be too hard to find as they will not involve in the battle. Go and look for them from the air..."

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"Death is beutiful..." She sighed before catapulting into the air to look for the other portal.

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Made by Lembas

(tum te tum anyone there?)

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Made by Lembas

((POST CURI POST POST, I KNOW YOU'RE THERE POST))

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"Merrin Dragonrider," the interrogator repeated the name with strange relish. His mind turning inward, he licked his thin lips and performed a few more mystical passes. At length his eyes glowed with strange fervor as he stared at the young woman before him. "She will be taken," he instructed the two soldiers at his sides.

The soldiers obligingly shoved Merrin to her feet and prodded her towards a looming tent a hundred feet away. They pulled back the tent flap and pushed her in. Inside, dancing blue flames in a single cauldron in the center of the room illuminated iron cages. The stench of vomit and urine reeked throughout as the soldiers led her past the agonized prisoners - some too proud to display weakness, others too weak to display pride.

As they neared a cage in the back of the tent, a small girl of about ten years stirred to life. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she gripped the bars of her prison. "Mother!" she wailed. Phlegmatically the soldiers opened her cage door and tossed Merrin inside. The cage slammed shut with an ominous clang, leaving her alone with the sobbing child.

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At the sight of the interrogator's egregious glare upon Merrin and the proximity of his malicious face to hers, Kendath experienced an overwhelming urge to bolt from his cover then and there. Pragmatism outweighed his instincts, and only when the mage let Merrin depart alive did he ease his grip on his falchion and stop to consider his new twist of alien emotions.

First the assassin always scouted out his battlefield from all potential angles. Though Kendath wasn't on an assassination, the same rules applied. With a mien of outward apprehension - as was expected of entering a mages' den - he stepped from his cover and angled his steps towards two soldiers escorting yet another prisoner into the dreaded tent.

"Three copper coins for me to take your shift," he greeted, naming a price cheap enough to be tempting but reasonable enough for himself not to appear overly helpful.

The soldier eyed him, then shifted his yearning gaze to the campfires where his companions idled away their boisterous time. "One copper coin," he haggled shrewdly.

Kendath smirked. "Done." He pocketed the offered coin and took the newly liberated soldier's place.

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Semri hovered over the camp on Rano and saw Merrin being led away, Kendreth unobtrusivly walking though the camp. Smirking she took a Higher Meiltha ruby, stolen from Evlyn and hung it round her neck so that it was visible but not prominantly so, and landed a little way from the camp. Striding in she began makeing herway towards the prisoners tent.

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Made by Lembas

Merrin instinctively drew the girl close, murmuring soothingly. "Shhh, now...it'll be all right..." This instantly made her feel like a liar indeed, as nothing whatever was all right. But somehow her fear was now tinged with an unmistakable edge of anger. What manner of people were these, to hold even children captive?

And why did she not lie dead now? She knew nothing to tell them, even under torture. The fact that she was still alive now seemed ominous rather than relieving, and Merrin drew a long shuddering breath, fighting to shift her current despairing mentality. The gods had sent her, and they would bring her back. But there was no guarantee that her task would be painless or easy.

Merrin eyed the dancing blue flames, licking hungrily up into the air as if to leach away the very heart of all she believed in. What was left to trust besides the gods?

Kendath, aye, she supposed. But Merrin felt alone, the sole island amid a sea of chaos, and though she trusted him still she felt simultaneously betrayed. Had there been no other option than to risk this? It was difficult to know with certainty. Merrin wasn't sure she knew anything for certain anymore.

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"Soldier! What in the name of all cursed by the gods do you think you're doing?"

Kendath froze. Judging by the perfectly terrified expression on his business partner's face, he decided that matters were rapidly bouncing along in the wrong direction. He slowly turned around...

...and encountered exactly what he'd been dreading to see. The officer took turns scowling at him, then at the anonymous soldier. "Only those authorized may enter the tent. If you're so desperate, go help the others clean up the bodies."

He followed the officer's gaze towards the mass of mutilated bodies piling up in the mages' wake. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he apologized, every inch the contrite dimwit. His mind racing, he moved away. Those authorized... In the Meiltha world, mercy for prisoners was nonexistent. Unfortunate Renegade captors escaped the lions, only to be dropped screaming into the dragons' den.

He could not help but glance back one last time at the dreaded tent. How much more time before the death sentence? Whatever the case, going in now with the place swarming with mages would only dictate suicide. The only option left was to watch... and wait.

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The small girl buried her face in Merrin's tunic. Eyes shining with tears, she looked up at the older female and grasped at her hand. "Are you a dragonrider?"

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Merrin nodded. "Aye. I'm Merrin and my dragon's called Wyvern. What's your name?" she continued, mostly to distract the little thing. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the girl, refusing to glance apprehensively up at the increasing traffic into and out of the tent. Realizing that her every muscle was taut with fear, Merrin made a concerted effort to appear calm despite her unease that the next shadowed figure to appear, lit by the cauldron's blue fire, would look at her.

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It was only when he felt himself roughly jostled about by the customary hustle that characterized a waking camp, that Kendath realized he'd dozed off in his espionage. Both the time travel and the battle in the same day at jaded him more than he'd known. Furious at himself for his lack of self control, he took one survey of the stirring army around him and immediately detected something amiss. Not only was everyone moving with a sense of anticipation, but everyone was also moving in the same direction.

Kendath! Something is happening. Come quickly! Gyre's voice floated in from the general direction in which everyone else seemed to be surging.

On edge, he melted into the crowd. He let himself be steered forth from the camp, to the base of rise topped by the eldritch circle of stone monoliths. The entirety of the Meiltha legions - those hale enough to walk, anyway - accumulated at the base of the hill. Shielding his eyes against the sunrise's ardent glare, he studied the single cynosure of attention. The sun's first intrepid rays crested the tops of the obsidian monoliths... sentinels of oblivion...

In that horrifying instant, it struck him.

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"Quickly," snarled the Meiltha guard, brandishing his club and shoving Merrin along. Her chains dragged on the barren ground, tripping her with every painful shove. Each time she inadvertently pitched forward into the soldier in front of her, she earned a none too tactful clubbing from her generous escort.

The ten year old girl in front of her threw a desperate tear-streaked glance Merrin's way. She was first in the line of Renegade prisoners being marched to the monoliths.

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"I'm going," snapped Merrin, trepidation and irritation combined momentarily creating a lapse in the fog of panic she fought through. The shoves hurt - her arm, bound clumsily with the torn-off sleeve of her tunic, throbbed with every movement. She bit back a further retort, expression set. Every step was an effort. What with time travel, a battle, very little sleep in the last few days, and numbing fear all overwhelming her in conjoined strength, she felt trapped in a nightmare with no escape in sight. Not to mention that this went against all their plans - sent to observe only, Sage had said. That was in irretrievable tatters along with all the rest of Merrin's hopes.

A wave of despair crashed down upon her. Merrin found her vision blurred as she scanned the hordes of Meiltha; and before she could halt them tears spilled over, coursing down her smudged, dirty cheeks. She had not even the strength left to be ashamed of her weakness, only a vague sense that her tears would not instill the child in front of her with any hope at all - and what was left to hope for?

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"You" Semri grabbed a soldir "Whats happeing up there" He turned snarling but caught sight of the ruby. "A..a...sacrifice mam"
"Of the prisoners?"
"Yes mam."
A smirk illuminated her features as she threw him to the ground and walked towars the Monalifs. "Revenge is sweet Merrin...revenge is sweet."

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Made by Lembas

"Excellent question," Demon growled, glaring at the newcomer.

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Chronicles of the Fourth Age, Vol. 64. Chapter 13 - Renegade Sacrifice on the Plains of Despair. Sentinels of oblivion, silhouetted against the first tendrils of flame that streaked blood across vermilion skies... The Meiltha’s sacrifices were viewed as defiances, insults to the gods, who detested human sacrifice...

Galvanized to desperation, Kendath scanned the monoliths. He could now see the long line of prisoners being marched up the hill. They were outlines, vague silhouettes against the ardent sunrise. And then, as they moved under the shadow of the monoliths, he saw her. Second in line. His blood congealed.

The first sacrifice was the annihilation of innocence... a child, her name lost in antiquity...

The three black-robed mages within the encircling stones raised their arms as if to embrace the single altar in the center. The child, sobbing but otherwise strangely calm, was brought forth and laid out upon the iniquitous altar. The lead mage produced a ceremonial dagger and raised it high. The ruby upon the dagger's pommel harnessed the sun as it came crashing down, piercing flesh, piercing heart, piercing life. The girl's blood poured down the sides of the altar like crimson cataracts. The Meiltha in the audience cheered.

The gods are said to value innocence above all else... the child's sacrifice was seen as the highest of slights... In fury they cast down their vengeance in the form of salvation... Renegade paladins...

Kendath scanned the brightening skies but saw nothing. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Salvation! As chronicled by history, Renegade paladins were coming! The second prisoner - Merrin - was ascending the rise. They did not come. Escorted by Meiltha soldiers, she entered the ring of monoliths and began advancing towards the dreaded altar.

And still they did not come. Then and there, the epiphany smote him full - the next verse in the litany, They would have arrived too late... had not a solitary dragonrider whose identity remains shrouded in enigma... descended from the heavens like a thunderbolt...

That was all Kendath needed. GYRE! he roared, and his loyal dragon swooped down from the skies, sending Meiltha scattering in her wake. She snatched her rider in her talons and regained altitude just as the first of the Meiltha arrows began whistling towards them. Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain in his injured shoulder, he scaled Gyre's flank and vaulted himself into the saddle just as a magical fireball whizzed above his head, singing the hair on his neck.

Gyre streaked from the heavens like a lightning bolt, angled straight towards the altar, where the mage had just raised his ceremonial dagger above the helpless Merrin. She collided with a solid wall in the air fifty feet above the altar - a ward, set in place beforehand by the paranoid mages. Nevertheless, the sheer force of her mighty collision was enough to engender a shock wave that rippled through the ward, sending everyone inside the monoliths careening off their feet.

The suicide move had cost rider and dragon dearly. Gyre bounced off the invisible wall and crashed to the ground. Dislodged, Kendath flew into the air and similarly came plummeting back down, where a horde of Meiltha armed to the teeth presented him an amiable welcome reception.

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"One who too resents the tyranny of the gods," rumbled the shadowed dragon. "You come to rescue your companion, do you not? There are far easier ways than mounting an assault on Vryngard."

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As Merrin passed under the shadow of the towering pillars and ancient shapes of stone, her face underneath the coat of grime pale as a ghost, the void of despair within her seemed to swell to impossible proportions. As the girl before her died, a barbaric sacrifice to mock the gods, a voice echoed in her head - so real she looked around, expecting someone to have appeared beside her.

Have you so little faith, Merrin? Fear not...the gods protect their own. You are not fated to die here.

This seemed so irrevocably true that Merrin's fear dwindled, a forgotten nightmare lost in oblivion. Not even when she lay helpless, eyes fixed on the glittering blade descending did she waver -

And then, as she had known it would, the very ground trembled and in the confusion Merrin leapt from the blood-stained alter and glimpsed a green dragon spiraling out of the crimson-tinged sky. Unbeknownst to her, Merrin's blue eyes shone unnaturally with a white flame. The gods had come to have their vengeance.

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Kendath had fallen on his wounded shoulder, which promptly complained with a stabbing throb that nearly blacked him out. The bandage came undone, and he began bleeding anew. He just managed to stagger to his feet beside his thrashing dragon and deflect the first high-thrusting slash. He glimpsed the glint of Gyre's tail spikes flashing beside him, and the seized the diversion to decapitate his nearest enemy.

But the Meiltha hordes were overwhelming. Furious at the interruption in their sacrosanct ritual, they descended upon him with unalloyed wrath. He felt himself being punched forward... a curious sensation, as if he were slowly falling...

The last memory he recalled before his world spiraled into nothingness was the sight of different dragons... colliding in midair with the Meiltha wyrms... white flame licking the air before them as they swooped down towards the prisoners...

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