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PostPosted: February 19th, 2007, 5:08 pm 
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"He is the one," the Lich said eagerly, pointing one gaunt finger into the scrying bowl. He seemed utterly unperturbed by the fact that the elfmaid's blood still stained his arms and robes. He nodded at the robed figure beside him, who immediately began casting.

To those who happened to be watching, it seemed as if a black mist surrounded Garthag, then devoured him without a trace.

"It was hard," volunteered the caster as Garthag began rematerializing a mile outside the village, where the sacrifice had been made earlier. "He has magical protection."

Magical protection. The Lich snorted in disdain. He'd never found reason to fear anything or anyone in a thousand years, with the possible exception of the Shadower Lord Kvanoes. As soon as Garthag's misty form solidified, he evinced a taunting bow. "Greetings, O sir mage."

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PostPosted: February 19th, 2007, 5:15 pm 
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Garthag at first seemed frustrated and annoyed as he was not expecting to be meddled with by these Meiltha fools, fools who did not accept to evolve. Garthag simply hmhed and eerily smiled at them.

"For what do I own this honour of being disturbed at a critical moment that I wished to enjoy and bring to an end?"

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PostPosted: February 19th, 2007, 5:20 pm 
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The Lich returned the smile threefold, though it was hidden under the shadows of his cowl. He silently appraised the wizard before him with a critical eye. "Why don't you tell us of the special artifact you hoard in your pocket?"

Meanwhile the other half dozen Shadowers surreptitiously closed the circle around them.

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PostPosted: February 19th, 2007, 10:09 pm 
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Merrin raised a hand to blast him out of the air - she had no time for this, what with undead dragons swarming the air and undead warrior advancing - but suddenly Garthag disintegrated into thin air and she lowered it, perplexed briefly.

She scanned the skies for Gyre. Nothing. "Come on!" she shouted to Kendath over the din, Wyvern raising his talons off the ground to slash in front of them at undead warriors.

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PostPosted: February 20th, 2007, 4:36 am 
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Adanil felt his jaw dropping as the the silver dragon alighted on the ground in front of him. These two people were Dragonriders? He had not thought that he would even see one until he was closer to one of the great cities, and yet here were two, apparently. Maybe his village could be saved by them--after all, everyone knew that Dragonriders were the best. Two of them together would have no trouble clearing the village of foes.

Still, they seemed caught up in something of their own with a White-robed Mage while he backed cautiously away from the Dead closing in around them. The Dragonriders didn't seem to notice them. At least the Dead didn't have weapons--he wasn't sure if he could take them if they did. All around him he could see hastily-armed villagers fighting the creatures, yet the sheer numbers were overwhelming them, and they were slowly being pulled down. It seemed inevitable that that would happen to him, too.

"What do we do!?!" he hollered over his shoulder, his walking backwards coming to an abrupt halt as he bumped into the Dragon. "You're Dragonriders--you must have a plan, something I can do to help," he said, more than a little anxiety in his voice.

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PostPosted: February 20th, 2007, 9:24 am 
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Garthag seemed suddenly surprised and placed his hand on his chest as, if stunned. These Meiltha could prove more troublesome than they formerly appeared, but of course it was their nature to suspect and try to gain. Garthag hmphed quietly and shook his head.

"The artifact that hoard in pocket is of no special nature, many of these have been forged to boost the powers of it`s carrier and I for one a not willing to throw it away"

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Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!


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PostPosted: February 20th, 2007, 1:36 pm 
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Kendath! The villagers scattered and there was Gyre, roaring, flames spewing skyward towards the winged wraiths that swooped to prey upon the innocents. Kendath was about to leap onto her back when he hesitated, turning back to the young man. Something about him, his earnest vehemence perhaps, or simply the courage with which he confronted them, touched a nerve.

This farmer from an era long past, from a background similar yet so starkly contrasting, reminded him of someone he'd once known...

"What can you do?" he reiterated quietly, pressing his face closer to be heard. "Nothing. Run. Flee." Halfway into the flight saddle, he looked back down at him. His next words surprised even himself: "You're welcome to come with us."

------------

The screams of the villagers rang like music in his ears, and the Lich inwardly smiled. With reluctance he turned his attention from the wanton destruction to the matter currently at hand. "I do not believe you comprehend the situation you are in," he said in a sibilant hiss. "We will not harm you if you do not give us reason. In fact you may actually benefit from this encounter. Do you know who we are?"

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PostPosted: February 20th, 2007, 2:25 pm 
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A luminous blade, icy cold and sharper than any mortal weapon, sliced through Merrin's boot and into her dangling ankle where she sat astride Wyvern. An involuntary cry from her and Wyvern lifted ponderously aloft, the time for delibaration gone as undead warriors closed in.

She caught only a glimpse of Kendath, not yet quite astride Gyre, turning to regard the peasant farmer who'd confronted them, but after that there was no time to glance down. Wyvern arrowed skywards, pursued by shades of dragons long dead.

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PostPosted: February 20th, 2007, 3:12 pm 
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Semri cursed as Garthag disappered into the air again. "O ye Gods, why dose he have to be the person to give me my power." Useing forbidden magic to Renagade, and therefore magic she had lernt she caught hold of some trace of Garthags magic in the air and twisted herself after it, only to appear in front of Kendreth and Merrin. Her first reaction was to kill them....but then Garthag wasn't here and he had the crystal. "I'l deal with you two later. Come on Rano!" And with that both Dragon and rider disappered and materialised next to Garthag in the cirlce of stones.
"Will you stop moveing please?" She sighed then turned her attention to the Lich. "A group of idiots that have gone too far?" She asked inocently.

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 3:32 am 
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Adanil glanced around as he fended off the Dead. It was as Kendath had said--he could do nothing here. The houses were roaring infernos now, and the last remnants of resistance had been destroyed. There were no more farmers with pitchforks defending their families. There weren't any more families. Aside from himself and the Dragonrider, he could see nothing besides Dead moving.

My family is dead he thought numbly. His father, his sister, and his two younger brothers, all dead. An overwhelming surge of anguish encompassed him, and a piercing wail rose above even the noise of the burning. His throat felt ragged, and he realized that he was the one who was wailing. Nothing more could be done. With that thought, anguish left as soon as it had come, replaced by a feeling of coldness, coupled with an emptiness and a strong desire for vengeance. He turned to face Kendath.

"I will come," he said hoarsely.

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 1:34 pm 
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As soon as Kendath unceremoniously hauled the young man into the flight saddle behind him, half a dozen winged apparitions swooped at them from the skies. Gyre shot into the air like an arrow, spewing fire to keep them at bay. But the undead knew no pain. The undead were indefatigable.

And then, to their right, Kendath beheld a glimmer of hope.

"The sunrise!" he shouted, to which Gyre screamed in defiance and angled her wings for the brightening eastern horizon.

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 1:46 pm 
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Wyvern let out a screech as claws tore at his wings, flanks - and Merrin astride him frantically pressed herself close. When like a streak of quicksilver he exited the melee, crimson mingled with his bright scales, the pair plummeted earthwards before with a desperate strain Wyvern bore them aloft again, after the jade shape against the sunrise that was Gyre.

Turning Merrin flung out a hand, palm facing the pursuing nightmares - and the foremost of them dashed immediately against a blazing white shield. She held it for as long as it took Wyvern to steady himself, though when they caught up to Kendath and Adanil astride Gyre both were exhausted and Wyvern listed dangerously to one side.

Scanning the ground for some shelter, Merrin felt her dragon falter and screamed over the wind and roars of undead dragons. "Have to land!"

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 1:55 pm 
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Garthag did not give their identity a second thought and casually shrugged with a careless face as, if they could not oppose any kind of threat towards him as long as he had the crystal.

"Hapless Meiltha fools?"

He asked as his other hand went for his pocket incasse of a rapid response.

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 2:03 pm 
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Sepulchral cold shuddered through Gyre's great body, but she persevered and kept on. She banked towards the side, angling into position beneath Wyvern to help support the smaller wyrm. Buffeted by hurricanes from both dragons' wings, Kendath squinted back at the pursuing wraiths. They couldn't land. Not yet. And just when he himself was about to give in -

Piercing the eastern horizon like salvation, armageddon, the afflatus of the gods -

The sun.

Torrid rays lanced across the velvety skies, obliterating the icy clutches of death. They smote the undead full - for what form of death could withstand the promise of vitality? They went down shrieking, dissipating into the ardent skies with promises of vengeance.

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 2:14 pm 
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Merrin twisted to scan the skies behind them now, and felt a violent surge of relief as the apparitions diminished into mere memory - a dream of crimson eyes and grasping luminous claws. Wyvern lost altitude as slowly as he could manage, fighting not to plummet earthwards. Merrin clung to his neck, whispering encouragement both telepathically and aloud until he landed.

On dismounting at first she thought her knees were weak with terror relieved, which would explain the fact that she had to retain a grip on the straps securing Wyvern's flight saddle to keep herself upright. Upon further investigation, however, Merrin discovered her breeches wet with blood from a gash reaching up almost the length of her shin. It was strangely numb, and Merrin recalled the undead warrior who'd lunged forward with his blade just as Wyvern took flight.

Pushing it out of her mind Merrin caught her dragon's head, wrapping her fingers around his horns to calm his frantic shudders of pain. “Shh, now…shhh…”

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PostPosted: February 21st, 2007, 2:26 pm 
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Remarkably enough, both Kendath and Gyre had eluded most physical injury. But the horrors of the mind often inflicted more damange than those of the flesh, and upon sliding to the ground he felt his own knees weaken. Steeling himself, he took a staggering step. Curse it, he couldn't stop shivering!

Gyre twisted her neck around to inspect Wyvern's wounds. Worry darkened her emerald eyes as she sadly shook her head. "They're tainted," she said softly. "You need a priest."

At that Kendath glanced at their new companion and wondered if he was versed in any clerical arts. A moment later, upon remembering his profession, he dismissed the notion. "You don't look too good yourself," he commented upon sight of Merrin's leg.

----------

The sunrise did little to benefit the Lich's already furious disposition. Turning his gaunt face to the brightening skies, he uttered a single scream of odium and outrage. His shriek split the air, bearing uncanny resemblence to those of the wraiths he'd just summoned. But no - he couldn't accept this! He'd placed all faith in his infallible undead - and yet they had failed him.

Aware of the many eyes resting on him, he took a rasping breath and forced himself to remain calm. This was not the end. The undead would resurrect themselves in three more nights, after their term in the netherworld had fully replenished them yet again. And this time they would not - could not - fail.

He turned his attention back to the audience at hand. He regarded the Meiltha woman with some recognition - she'd follow Garthag to the ends of the world for power, he recalled. A pity. But then again, the blindly ambitious are more easily manipulated. He let an unsettling grin creep over his features. "Wrong," he hissed in response. "We are not Meiltha. Do you, for all your erudite training, not know? Very well... your knowledge or lack of it is trivial. Why are you here?" His voice implied in no uncertain terms that should Garthag continue to resist, matters would not proceed well for him.

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