Peredhil

Zool: Yui felt a remote perceptual twist. It was a moment before she realized it had startled her, and she sat bolt upright, a strangled scream lodged in her throat, her eyes wide open. She looked around in panic. Dappled sunshine streamed in through an open window in the rough hewn stone walls of a shack. There was a dirt floor, a lodge pole ceilling, and a fire pit at the other end with a wide table piled high with wooden bowls, jars and a few pans. There was no chimney, only a squareish hole in the roof above the pit, showing a patch of blue sky. There was also a window above her bed, but she was too low to see out of it. She looked down and saw she was on a bed of thick blankets and animal skins which was laying on the floor. The rough plank door she was behind was half ajar. She heard the sound of chopping outside. Finally she was able to take a shuddering gasp of breath. When she had calmed, she quietly slipped aside the blankets and crept toward the door, but as she tried to stand her head was suddenly swimming. She closed her eyes and rested on her knees and elbows to let the wave of dizziness pass. The sound of chopping immediately ceased. Forcing herself to look up, she saw a grizzled old man with a tremendous white beard peeking around the door at her. They stared at each other for a second, both appearing somewhat surprised. Then the old man strode into the room and gently grasped Yui by the shoulders. He was dressed in animal skins and crude wool cloth, with leather sandals. Yui thought to resist, but found herself being helplessly eased back under the covers as another wave of dizziness came over her. After he had layed Yui back down, he went to the table and prepared her a concoction in one of the bowls, from some of the ingrediants around the shack. He carefully carried it to her, and bending down motioned for her to drink. "Who are you?" asked Yui weakly. The old man said nothing, but his eyes crinkled and his beard turned up at the edges in such a way that Yui knew the smile that was under the thick long white beard was the clear sign of a friend. With his help, she was able with some effort to drink the whole bowl of dark bitter drink. She immediately began to feel her head clear, and in a moment she felt much better. The old man had gone out and resumed his chopping, and in a moment brought in several armloads of wood, and set about making a fire. "Thank you." Said Yui. "Who are you? How did I come here?" The old man looked up from the fireplace, and looked Yui in the eye. Then, his eyes sad, looked to the ground before slowly turning around to resume his work. The wind whispered through the open windows and door, and a sweet birdsong carried in from outside. "Don't you… talk?" she asked hesitantly. The old man didn't turn around, merely shook his head side to side several times as he bent to his task. He struck a flint, then blowing softly on his tinder, smoke quickly turned into flame which he then built into a small fire. Jumping up he closed one plank window shutter , left another ajar slightly, then went outside, closing the door after him. Yui felt decidedly better, was even comfortable with the fire going. Her eyes began to close, and she began to drift. Slowly her consciousness began the sliding descent to rest… Again Yui sat bolt upright, her heart pounding, her breath rasping in her throat. The door still vibrated from the old man's hasty entrance. His hands were in front of him, towards Yui's brow. He slowly closed the distance to her, finally laying his hands on her head. An odd, gutteral whine eminated from his throat. Slowly, the engulfing blackness bled away from her mind. She raised her arm from under the covers to reveal angry red rune patterns on her skin, which were just fading away. "What is happening to me!" she screamed angrily. "What do they want?!" After a moment he backed away, then held out his hand to help her up. Despite the terrible nightmare, she actually felt rested and stood easily. They went outside. The sun had shifted in the sky. She must have slept for most of the day, she thought. She found herself in a beautiful meadow at the base of a tall rocky mountain. The cottage was actually under an enormous cottonwood tree. "What a magnificent tree," she sad, distracted. Her Verdant training giving her an appreciation of natural wonders. "It must be hundreds of years old." The old man smiled wide, and held his hands apart even wider. For the first time in days, Yui smiled herself, almost laughed. "Older? 500 years old? A thousand?" I don't think cottonwood trees live that long," she said, still smiling. The old man winked, then walked to the edge of the clearing with Yui in tow. He motioned up the mountain, guiding Yui's eyes with his hand. Towards the base of the mountain, a creek had formed a chasm which was spanned by a rickety rope bridge. From there the boulder strewn flank rose grandly, until the fairly smooth sides gave way to the craggy peaks at the top. Then she saw it. There, toward the very top of the mountain, were the ruins of an ancient castle. She had seen that castle before.The castle looked oddly familiar, but the mountain she knew she had been to before - but try as she might, she couldn't recall exactly when. Recently, she thought, but she just couldn't remember exactly when it was. But staring up at the ruined castle suddenly made her feel dizzy, and the old man helped her back into the shack. Night was drawing near. * * * * * A lone horseman thundered across the open meadow towards the rocky mountain. His horse was breathing hard form many miles of hard running. In front of him he saw that a storm had sprung up, and was shrouding the mountain with angry black clouds, but not before he caught sight of the ominous castle at the top. "She is there," he thought with absolute certainty. Only one thought permeated his mind - to save Yui. He flew through the tall waving grasses, the hooves of his steed flinging mud and stones, his cape flapping in his wake. Halfway across the meadow his horeses fore hoof barely missed spading a young cottonwood sapling. He passed off the momentary shudder of longing and hope he felt as simply his own longing, as just his own pain.

Peredhil: "Mommy the bad one's all tangled with this pretty one. Can you untangle it?" He listened to her negative answer even as the black thread clung to his hands. He absently tap, tap, tapped his fingers repeatedly against the thread, feeling it stick, stick, stick icky-clingy to his fingers. His other hand still pulled at the gold thread in a vain attempt to separate them. The gold one was funny too, shimmery gold and white, green-edged in the light, but with a solid rigid core that gleamed nearly as black as the sticky-icky thread when stretched. "Put those down please." The Dream Weaver nudged him away from the tangled skeins with her foot as her hands threw the shuttle back and forth as fast as she could move it. He obediently dropped the threads and sat back. The Black thread rested in a twisted mess on the floor, a loop writhing unnoticed on her foot. The shuttle slowed, the beater stumbled to a stop. The Dream Weaver rested, for just a moment, eyes drooping. In a moment a faint rumbling snore escaped her lips. The Graeson looked at the Loom in alarm. The fabric was bunching and snagging under the stresses while Mommy slept. Moving forward with tongue fixed firmly between his teeth, he carefully grasped the threads in one hand while he pushed at the Shuttle with the other. When she awoke, the boy was gone. * * * * * Yui woke endlessly from a series of nightmares, each time finding herself still dreaming. Reality began to blur as she began to doubt even the times she was certain she was awake. The chill shadow within strove against the shadow without; To her mounting horror they began to negotiate and intertwine. A war-weary Aegon Del'Rath returned to find a Letter spurning him on his pillow. The visiting Princess consoled him with hot eyes and cool hands. Soi stood helplessly wringing her hands as teary-eyed Nakarei cut her with a flensing knife, protesting all the while that it was the only way to save her life. The pain and terror came in rhythmic waves, becoming increasingly seductive as her exhaustion mounted. Each time she began ease into the pattern, clenching and releasing, anticipating the next pain or caress, she bucked and raged at her weaknesses. But her protests were becoming listless. tsukaremash|ta... michi ni mayoimash|ta * * * * * The Master straightened and rinsed the short razor in the basin. The streamer of blood made a lazy swirl as it blended with the already pinkened water. He cast a critical eye over the latest Glyph he'd just carved into her pale flesh. She was strong, perhaps the strongest he'd had in years. He'd carved this Glyph into her back three times now, each time she'd managed to find a way to reject it. He feared not let her waken completely, she might realize the reality of the situation and escape him completely. A sudden broken sob. "Aegon..." The Glyph glowed crimson and faded until it was a tracery of fresh blood on unblemished creamy flesh. He swore harshly. His pocked flesh billowed like a sail in a crosswind for a moment. Struggling for a moment, he regained control. She was like no Ascendant Mage he'd ever consumed. He glared at her bitterly, lashing her with tormenting shadows, layering dream within dream within dream until her body spasmed in a thousand terrors. The Senses-twisting Glyphs already scarred into her body each amplified his power. He could feel her spirit trembling on the brink, the Darkness within her rising and fighting for control. "Hai!" Removing one glove, he stretched his trembling hand toward her hungerly. "No." Shaking her head in a adamant denial, she twisted through the shadows, rejected the dreams, thrust back the Darkness within and without. "NO!" Yui fought with clawed hands against unseen terrors with a frenzied strength. The Master looked at her in disbelief as he quickly withdrew his hand. What DROVE her to fight when all was so hopeless?! Leaning forward, he patiently began again. One. We are One... * * * * * He is dreaming of when he was a child. His father is near, the one light of his life. He is laughing and at peace, when the sky darkens. A sense of foreboding sweeps him, a fear from his father. Mother's voice comes from behind him, calling them in from the storm. He can almost hear her name over the rising wind. His father's heavy cloak, embroidered with Ancient Words, swirls as he turns and they retreat in from the storm. Mother's grey-green eyes are filled with love as she looks at them both. His heart drums so loudly it wakes him up. Ancient Worlds? Mother? Something has changed the dream. Where were the marauders? Slowly the memory of the burnt mangled remains of his father strangle the dream. He voluntarily seeks sleep again, for the first time in 20 years, chasing the new dream. Outside, the storm lashes and growls with balked hunger.

Yui-Temae: It moved along quickly, as all dreams do, the colors and patterns joining in a dance of celestial artistry, creating between them a world of unreality and bald truth. Absorbed in the fluidic motion that was her purpose for existence, the immortal who sat before the weave passed long moments before raising her eyes from the tuck and weave of her hands to behold the finished product that flowed into the ether beyond the loom. What she saw there made her freeze, the shuttle sliding to a stop in the middle of the strands as the DreamWeaver stared in shock at the face of the tapestry-dream she was creating. Darkness. In the midst of a thousand bright colors, a stain of faded greys and blacks sat upon the dream, the ominous Black Strand at its center. An icy chill of foreboding went through the creature of eternity as she reached out to touch the dreadful fragment, feeling the rending tension that remained despite her best efforts to loosen her weave. The DreamWeaver stared at the dark dream, the color draining from her face as she whispered, "It is not my work..." On the floor by her feet, the child idly played with the skein of thread from which she drew, fingering the reds and greens and golds of the strands in an idle attempt to untangle them. At her words, he raised his dark gaze to her and blinked innocent eyes at the stain. Frowning, he turned his gaze back to the threads in his hands and raised them for his mother to see. "Mommy, the bad one’s all tangled with this pretty one. Can you untangle it?" She wrenched her eyes from the puzzling sight of her own work altered and looked at the boy with a worried frown. "I can’t, sweetlings. I wish I could... but I can’t..." ******* She stood on the parapet of a high tower, whipped by the winds and rain of a violent storm. Around her, the darkness was lit by the constant strobe of sizzling lightning bolts, though no thunder rumbled through the chaos. In fact, she could hear nothing, only feel the sting of the shards of rain against her skin and feel the lash of her unbound hair across her cheeks. Alone there, she shivered against the seeping cold of the water soaking her cloak. ‘Fool.’ The sound surprised her, and she turned with a start to find herself staring at her own face. In the darkness, the icy blue of the eyes that stared back at her shined like a beacon. She felt the cold seep deeper. ‘You’ve lost me. You’ve freed me.’ She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She tried to raise her hand to this other self, but she could not move. Ebon... Helpless, she could only watch in worry as the darksoul shard of her own being stepped forward and reached out a hand to her. Time slowed, straining forward as the pale fingers closed the last inch towards her cheek... and then the hand was not hers. A man stood before her, swallowing her in his infinite, black eyes as he caressed her soft skin. Aegon... Yet not Aegon. She stared, paralyzed, at her lover’s face and body, his smooth, tanned skin bare to the cool night breeze that eased through their bedchamber. The firelight flickered on the angles of his cheekbones as he leaned forward to touch his lips gently to hers. It was all so familiar except that his skin was cold and his warm blue eyes were so terribly black. She quaked in a mixture of longing and fear as his hand trailed down her cheek to her neck, memories of the thousand other times her love had warmed her with the comforting gesture flashing through her thoughts. Free to move, again, she reached her own hand up to the stubble-roughened cheek of this man, torn by the familiar mixed with the unfamiliar. Aegon was never this cold, this empty, yet foolish hope prompted her to whisper, ‘Love...’ The word might as well have been the final arcane syllable of Chain Lightning for the effect it had on this phantom of her soulmate. With a jerk and an angry snarl, he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed the breath from her throat. Her eyes went wide from the shock, and she gripped his wrists in desperation, struggling to draw breath through the clamp of his grip. ‘Kiree na omocha. *’ The gravelly voice drove a spike through her heart, and she stared in terror at the dark face of the man before her. Enshrouded in a cowl that covered the features of his face with shadows, suddenly, he looked nothing like Aegon or anyone else she knew. His skin was lined and pocked, harsh angles and a sharp nose topped by black eyes and the hint of long, red hair. A fearful shudder rocked her, and she stopped struggling, captured by the depth of nothingness in those eyes. The room around them faded into a place just as empty as the soul she saw in the man’s gaze, and she sobbed silently. This, she knew. This was a place she had been before. She fought futilely against what was to come... ‘One.’ The voice closed around her heart like a vise, stopping it cold. Unable to move, unable to breathe, she could feel the cold seeping into her core, into her soul. Without motion, she struggled, fighting to hold onto a light that was quickly extinguishing, a warmth that was fading to nothing under the onslaught of pitch black. ‘We are One.’ ... ******* The Master watched her face as she dreamed, a thoughtful look upon his creased face. She was everything he had hoped for and more, a delicious mix of power and vulnerability, light and darkness. Her beauty made her appear almost fragile as she stirred in tormented sleep, yet what he saw in the dream he gave her was a strong, stubborn will, forged in the tragedies of the past and tempered in the white light of a love that was both her shield and her weakness. Even more, he touched a magnificent pocket of the coldest dark within her, a delicious irony in one so very luminous. The triumph was agony. The anticipation, torture. "Bring her." His hoarse voice punctured the clatter of the storm around them as he faded like a shadow exposed to light, leaving the ragged man alone in the violent downpour. The Slave stared at the woman laying unconscious on the rough ground, still wondering at the shock of recognition, trying to reconcile the pale, rain-drenched form before him with the all-too-fresh images from his dream. The storm... we helped each other against the storm. What does it mean? Carefully, he lifted her limp form into his arms, tucking her sodden cloak around her before he began to trudge back towards the looming stones of the castle. All the while, he watched her face and wondered... *"Pretty toy..."

Zool: Yui flew through the storm, the staccato hoofbeats below her a tympanic backbeat to the rumbling thunder in the clouds and the stinging rush of the rain in her eyes and on her face. Brilliant strokes of lightning briefly illuminated the roilling depths of the storm she had been riding towards since leaving her and Aegon's countries. She knew she should slow down, had known it for a dozen leagues. The gelding was a spirited beast, but the foam now ran freely from his mouth, and his wind whistled over the din of the storm. She had left the forest behind some time ago, and was now coming to the end of a wide meadow at the base of a tall rocky mountain. Leaping over a raging creek, she unexpectedly hit shale on the other side. The horse skidded and bucked, nearly throwing Yui, but both managed to maintain their positions. Regaining their pace, they resumed their flight through the rain, the wind, and the night. Yui rode league after league. The ground was much rockier and muddier now, the bushes sparse and leafless, looking like overgrown spiders, legs everywhere, hairy and misshapen, starkly outlined by the constant strobing of the cloud lightning. The going kept getting steeper, but a trail had appeared between the bushes, making it a little easier. The wind kept rising, from a moan, to a roar, to a shriek. Constantly on her mind was the certain knowledge that they had Aegon, that he was in deadly peril, and only by coming as fast as possible did she have any chance of saving him - a chance she was uncertain still existed. She resolutley did not think about it, but kept riding, kept spurring her gelding on. Deeper in her mind, was the sucking darkness. It was palpable now, almost a part of her, seemingly growing stronger and colder by the second. But whenever she tried to look at it, all she saw was her fright and horror that it was too late to save Aegon. Must save Aegon... The thought was overriding. All uncertainty was driven from her mind in a frenzy. All she wanted was to go faster. There was no doubt of where to go, she felt absolutely certain of where she was going, nor did she think to question why that was so. Lightning flashed. She saw that she was almost to the top of the mountain. Ahead of her, at the end of a lonely winding track, was a castle. Tall and imposing, the appearence was eery and dreamlike. She saw no lights, but could see it clearly, even through the storm. She did not stop to wonder at this, but put her head down and spurred the gelding on. The wind shrieked around her, but was behind her now, seemingly pushing her on, her ebon cloak actually flowing out in front of the horse. The rain was no longer fresh, as she would expect, but seemed to carry the taint of sulpher. The thunder in the clouds was louder, deeper, slower, and the lightning was muted, with a reddish tinge. The closer she got to the open castle gate, the easier it seemed to get. Then, she felt an odd shift in energy... Suddenly a bolt of pure energy from the sky touched down directly in front of her. She was immediately blinded by the intense blue afterglow in her retinas, and the thundercrack rang in her ears. The startled horse bucked and reared, throwing Yui off. The last thing she remembered was flying through the air, before landing on the rock strewn ground into unconsciousness.

Zool: The child ran the celestial reaches, distracted from star streams to comet tails, laughing as he danced through spectral veils, the suns of a thousand nebulous beaches tanning the hands that darted here, and there, and there. Nearby, the Dreamweaver travailed, her usually swift fingers now flying. It was not usually in her nature to wonder at the increased cosmic stresses vectered in her astral loom, but she did wonder at the force of it of late, for it was not like anything she had ever seen. Carefully examining a sprouting sun which was just emerging from the heavenly firmament, the child felt someone standing behind him. He turned to see a large dark figure standing over him. The figure stepped into the light, revealling a very tall, old man, in a pointed wizards hat, and a flowing Wizard's gown. His clothing was all a very dark blue, with arcane symbols in a glowing violet thread woven thoroughout. He had a very long, very thick white beard, over which peered soft, kind eyes, and a long thin hooked nose. He carried a long wizard's staff, the grain of the wood squirming with an internal light, and the crystal at the top gleaming a pure white beacon light. The wizard held something out to the child. The child looked at it blankly, for he was not used to seeing strangers in the Dreamweaver's realm, before returning his gaze to the soft kind eyes. The wizard's eyes creased, and the child knew the wizard smiled wide, and a wink decided to set the child at ease. Smiling, the child took what the Wizard was offering him, what appeared to be a chip of wood, sanded thin. The child looked to the Wizard again, who tipped his head in the Dreamweaver's direction. The child took off as directed. "Here," said the child to the Dreamweaver over the looms din. She pigeonholed the shuttle, and let her limbs slow to rest. Taking the woodchip from his tiny hand she turned it over curiously, wood being rather unnatural where there are only ghosts of trees. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "From him," said the by, pointing from where he had just come. They both turned to look, but no figure was to be seen, only endless cosmic expanse... The woman and the child looked at each other, both somewhat confused. She took another, closer look at the object in her hand. She felt something odd about it. It felt... bulkier than it looked. She felt it carefully, and definitely felt something there that could not be seen. She held it up to the astral light, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she was able to catch a glimpse of a long crystal thread, wound round and around the piece of wood. "It is a skein of thread!" she exclaimed, "The likes of which I've never seen." Her wondering eyes scoured the object now, looking for whatever else it could tell, and there, in an ink almost the color of the silvered wood it was written on, were the words; "You will be needing this soon. -The Wizard Chronos"

Yui-Temae: The messenger strode through the hallway, urgency in his every motion and the intense gaze in his pitch-black eyes. Servants scrambled to get out of his path after he had knocked the first young page aside who had moved too slowly, gawking in surprise at the unexpected disturbance. There was obviously something of great importance in the man’s business, and it instantly pricked the curiosity of the entire staff. So little out of the ordinary ever happened here at the castle nestled snugly on the shared border of Aegon’s Nether lands and Yui’s Ascendant ones that the curious whispers were quick to bloom through the grey-stone corridors, spreading along them and into the high-ceilinged space of the Great Hall. The sound buzzed among the assembled men and women breaking their fast until a small figure adorned in green-trimmed white stepped through one of the massive archways that ringed the room. In that second, everyone in the room might well have dropped over dead for the sudden silence that descended. Yui-chan scanned the Hall, a certain tension and feverish intensity radiating from her with the palpable air of a flickering flame. Her voice was relatively quiet when she spoke, but it rang like a whipcrack in the expectant atmosphere. "Where is he?" "I am here, Huntress." The mysterious messenger spoke from behind her, and she turned, regarding him and the pouch that he carried with a businesslike eye. He returned her gaze boldly, the fathomless depths of darkness in his eyes sending a chill skittering down Yui’s spine. Her sense of dreadful foreboding intensified as he continued. "I must speak with you at once. In private." Biting back the urge to shiver, the young woman merely nodded and stepped past him, curtly replying. "Follow me, please." As they stepped away from the Great Hall, everyone was too busy speculating on the purpose of his visit to notice that the mysterious messenger strode away on stones completely void of his shadow... ******* Not even a candlemark later, the Huntress stood in the darkness of the closed stables, saddling her fastest gelding as silently as she could, her dreams and fears forgotten in the glare of her urgency. She whispered comforting words to the spirited beast as she cinched the saddle, knowing that her fear, anger, and tension were making it nervous. When she had tightened the last strap of the plain, leather tack, she turned and lifted the light wood of her favorite elven longbow, slipping the grip into the carrying strap slung over her ebon-cloaked shoulder. Her eyes in the depths of the cowl’s shadows were a window into a churning pool of determination and worry as she attended to her final task, tucking a bloody and torn cloak of heavy black fabric into the horse’s single saddlebag. The dark and dull symbols of what Aegon called the ‘Ancient Words’ that adorned the hem were damaged and warped, but what threatened to free the tears the young woman was holding back was the jagged, blood-lined gash through the complex rune that adorned the center of the back panel of the garment. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she allowed herself one moment to trace the symbol of the Del’Rath family - Aegon’s family - with a shaking finger before she stuffed the evidence the rest of the way into the saddlebag and closed it firmly. On the farthest edge of the forest ringing Yui and Aegon’s castle, a piece of shadow broke free of itself and stepped into a ray of light, illuminating one pale hand gripped tightly around the reins of the gelding that lumbered out after it. Within a heartbeat, the Huntress was mounted and kicking the beast into its fastest gallop out over the gently-rolling hills of her own lands. The wind whipped the ebon cloak around her body, writhing and flashing bits of color like a nightmare struggling to consume her. Oblivious, she shivered with more than just dread in the warmth of the early morning sunshine, her thoughts fixed only on one thing... Aegon... they have Aegon... Within, a darkshard of ice and evil stirred, again, growing stronger as the warmth and hope of the lightshard grew weaker... ******* In the castle, a shadow slid under the door of Aegon and Yui’s chamber and over the warm coverings of the bed, flowing like a living puddle across the surface and down the far side towards the balcony, where it disappeared into the lightless haven of the solid stone railing. Behind it, the pristine white of the sheets was left marred by a square of yellowed parchment with a seal of white wax visible on the front. Above that, in a neatly-formed script that anyone in the castle would recognize, was a familiar word. ‘Aegon’

Peredhil: Yui felt a chill as she stared off the balcony into the lemony morning light. She warmed her hands on the tea Soi had brought, but her Love wasn't back to warm her heart. She felt very uncharacteristically small and frightened like a mouse cowering below the monotonous circles of the hawk. Everytime she examined the fear, it sparked a white hot anger that she should feel this way. But the helplessness seeped crept back in and snuffed the anger. One... We are One... Far down in the hidden depths of her soul, a shadow best left alone stirred in its slumber. Raising a sleepy head, it fluttered silver eyes and subsided again, murmuring soft noises. Yui's body was wracked by a chill, causing a tsunami in the tea cup. A dark foreboding spun up like a spiral of bats to torment her. * * * * * After the endless climb up the tower stairs, he found himself staring at the cold iron ring that opened the silver-banded door. Outside the storm howled and raged with a sick berserk fury, beating at the stalwart tower. The ring would be heavy as always, and the cold would bite at his hand. With a sigh, he opened the door to his Master's Chamber. A shadow slipped in unnoticed at his heels. * * * * * "Mommy, can I weave too?" "Hush-a-nonnie sweetlings," she crooned as her hands flicked in and out of the Loom. "you're much too real and not enough dream. Like as not, you'd be pulled into someone's dream and then where would you be!" She smiled at the serious frown on his face as he considered her warning. "Mommy, what's a Dream?" * * * * * The Master fairly rippled with power as he avidly gloated over something in the crystal. Perhaps he shouldn't have come here to the chamber. But he'd felt a pull - The Master answered his unspoken thought. "Yes, come gaze into the Crystal." . As always when the storm raged like this, he felt much more real than the Master. It was like waking in a fever dream, complete to the ringing in his ears after every clap of thunder. The Curtains billowed suddenly and a man stood confronting the Master. * * * * * The Master gazed in puzzlement for a moment. "I haven't summoned you. Go away." Looking around, he saw his slave standing fearfully near the door. "You! Come here." The Man walked between the youth and the Master and stood staring at him. The Master met the intense red glare for a moment. "A vampire? I have no time for you. I've had too many. Go away. I don't want you. I want my slave," he said in a querulous tone. The Vampire snarled at being brushed aside so dismissively. Stepping forward, it once again sought the Master's eyes, this time raising its hand in a compelling gesture. The Master ignored it. "Boy. Come here now!" The ragged figure began edging helplessly past the Vampire. With a gutteral cry of fury, the Vampire grasp the youth's arm, who fell to his knees with a cry of agony at the icy grasp. The Master stood and walked forward with an inevitable motion. The Vampire looked up at the motion, and froze in the Master's gaze. The Master's leather gloves carefully pried the young man from the Vampire's grasp. With a convulsive jerk, the Vampire slashed a taloned hand at the Master's face! * * * * * His arm felt bruised where the Vampire'd gripped him. His spirit felt bruised at the Vampire's ruthless attempt to grasp and drain it. Shaken he remained kneeling. Above him he heard echoes in the Master's voice as his hoarse whisper said " Sozo ijo no mono deshta... "Pardon Master? I do not understand." "Nothing of importance. I am One with another that I didn't want. I've gone as far as I desire that way. Unfortunate." With gentle hands the Master lifted him up. "Come, let us gaze together and see what we see." * * * * * Yui watched with impassive face and beating heart as the Messenger whipped his lathered horse for a sprint to the House. The news he bore must be of great urgency. She moved inside to prepare herself to recieve him.

Peredhil: It seemed as if he'd been climbing these same steep stairs forever. Strange echoes reverberated through his mind, the many times he'd climbed to his Master's chamber. Sometimes the Master would have him sit at his feet silently and they'd watch the storm together. Other times he'd make him peer into the Black Crystal and tell him stories. He paused. That's where he'd seen that face before! That exquisite face! He'd been dreamily watching the ball, idly listening to the story his lips told of a Princess and her Golden Ball, when he'd seen that face! It had peered slyly from the shadows, watching Flames dance and Winds blow hard, with one raised eyebrow and a melancholy air. He stopped in his story, barely mindful of his Master's hoarse whisper prompting him, his gnarled misshapen hands cradling his head. Then they'd - NO! He stood shuddering on the stairs, forcing his mind to think nothing. NOTHING. Slowly his breathing calmed. A tremor passes over his body and his eyes regained their grey-green luster. As he climbed the steep winding stair, his mind tentatively reached out to the dream he'd just experienced... * * * * * The Dream Weaver returned from adjusting the Loom's pegs. The fabric was under great tensions of late, threatening to tear itself in its torments. Unwillingly she found herself drawn to the Black Strand.. She arrived just in time to see a red thread snap. The severed strand jerked back coiling, then slowly turned black. In moments it had been absorbed into the Black Strand. She shuddered with horrific fascination. Her hand reached out to touch the repellent black, then jerked back. Moving to her chair, she picked up her sewing and soon her needle was flashing furiously in the flickering light. * * * * * The Master stood in the center of the room. The warm humid air beaded moisture on the stained walls. Streaks of black mold and green algae outlined the rough stone blocks. The fetid slime made strange moire patterns on the bare skin of the man chained to the wall. We Are One! At the hoarse cry, the chained man raised his head. Glazed blue eyes glared through the damp strands of brick-red hair curtaining his face. Never he snarled. The Master smiled at the show of spirited defiance. They both knew at this point how hollow it was. Moving forward, the Master raised a gloved hand slowly. The prisoner flinched in reflex. Struggle my beauty, I need you to fight with all you have. Your beautiful essence. Your Will was strong, so strong. In a voice that make a mockery of love, the Master whispered. Have you been having Bad Dreams? Shall we play The Game again? Sick loathing rose in the blue eyes, then they focused inwardly in rage and desperation. The chains rattled like rain as his muscles began to swell, old scabs tearing and flaking away. Strange mind-twisting patterns of scars flashed a silver-white network against the reddening flesh. As the gloved hand touched his forehead, he finally flashed into Berserker Frenzy. Veins swelled and snaked like rapidly growing vines under his skin. His nose and eyes began to bleed. One massive arm flexed. The chain's links popped; the broken wrist seemed a small distant price to pay for such freedom. The Master retreated several steps and began crooning a eerily welcoming raspy note. Turning slightly, the Berserker ripped his other arm free. He seemed unmindful of the heart's spurts of blood or glistening bone at his wrist. Turning with an animal howl, he flung himself at his tormenter. ONE! Screamed the Master as the Berserker's scar-Glyphed body hit his. Only one body hit the door. The Master's cloaked figure writhed, expanding and contracting wildly as he screamed his throat raw once more in lickerish exultant agony. Finally straightening, he opened his cloak with shaking hands and let the blood-streaked bones fall. Tucking a long strand of brick-red hair back under into the dark abysmal depths of the hood, his triumph whisper echoed in the empty chamber. We are one. Staggering to the door, he hoped that the new one would prove to be this strong. Back in his Chamber, he focusing his gaze on her, he extended a whispering shadow across her sleeping face. One... We are one... Letting a flicker of his essence rest on her to stain her dreams, he allowed himself to rest in observation of her beauty. Corrupting this one would be difficult and slow. The anticipation was exquisite agony. "Anata wa haru ichiban no sakura no yoni utsukushii..." He murmured, then started at hearing the words leaving his lips. He must be careful with this one. One. One... We are One

Yui-Temae: ******* Somehow, Yui made it through the day, despite being exhausted, worried, and constantly chilled. She did not miss the looks the staff gave her as she went about the business of the kingdom, looks that spoke to just how much of a mark the stressful and sleepless night had left on her face, however she said nothing and refused to complain. She may have felt weak and tired, but the people and the army needed her attention. There would be time to fulfill her promise to Aegon later, when the letter to the guilds was finished and the recruiting reports had been read. It was not until well after sundown, as she sat curled in a chair before the fireplace in her bedchamber, that the true weight of her exhaustion reached the Huntress. As her chambermaid, Soi, turned down the covers in the too-big bed, her mistress watched with heavy lids, barely able to summon the will to bring the teacup in her hand to her lips and sip the soothing liquid. "Do you require anything else, Yui-chan?" Soi approached the chair, sweat glistening on her brow in the firelight. Shivering, Yui answered, "No, my friend. I will add a few logs to the fire and then get my rest. Go and sleep well, tonight." The maid hesitated, frowning, until Yui was prompted to tilt her head curiously and ask, "What is it, Soi? You know you can speak to me freely." "It is just ..." Soi gently reached out to her magess, pressing a hand to her wan cheek. "Yui, it is as hot as the great sun in this room, yet your skin feels as though you have been out in the deep winter. Let me fetch the healer to you." Smiling weakly, the Huntress shook her head and patted her maid’s hand. "I feel fine, Soi. You need not bother Nakarei at this hour. I did not sleep well at all, last night, and I fear that my body has slowed because of that. You know how exhaustion cools the fires that power a mage." With a displeased sigh, Soi nodded and then bowed respectfully. "Very well. Call if you have any need of me. Oyasuminasai, Yui-chan." " Yasumi, Soi." Yui watched the woman cross the stone floor and leave the room, closing the thick, wooden door behind her. Ill... no, I’m not ill. I’m as afraid as I’ve never been before. Every time I glance at a shadow or pass the darkness, my heart beats like a panicked rabbit’s. What is wrong with me? I am a ‘Walker! I control the Shadows, linking space through the common darkness. Being afraid of that darkness is absolutely ridiculous... With a weary sigh, she stood, dragging herself and her blanket across the chamber to the bed. ... absolutely ridiculous. Yui-chan stared down at the empty expanse of white cotton bedding, a sense of dread settling in her chest. At that moment, she missed Aegon’s presence more than ever before, desperately wishing he were there to reason away her fears. But he’s not, and you can’t hover beside your bed all night. You’re just exhausted and irrational... You need sleep. The truth of that final point spurred her into motion when nothing else would, and the young woman crawled into a bed gently lit by the flickering fire in the hearth. While she pulled and settled the covers around her body, she kept her eyes on the patches of light that skittered over the plastered walls, avoiding the frightening depth of the encompassing shadows by refusing to look at them. It was only as she settled down against that pillows that her glance brushed the darkness beyond the firelight, and Yui shuddered against a sudden chill. It’s nothing... nothing. Repeating that simple phrase in her head like a protective ward, the young woman slowly slipped off into an exhausted slumber... and as the last vestiges of wakefulness left her, one ephemeral finger of darkness spread down the wall, falling across her forehead. One... We are one...

Yui-Temae: The growing fire of the sun’s light slanted into the bedchamber, extinguishing the night’s shadows with the power of its indomitable will. They died slowly and without protest, simply fading from existence as if they had never been, as if they had not spent the long hours of darkness tormenting the young woman who watched them from the warmth of her bed. As light flooded the room, Yui drew a deep, shuddering breath and cuddled more closely against Aegon’s warm side, her arm draped protectively over his chest. They’d both been so exhausted lately, expending great amounts of time and energy and mana on the war effort that it was no surprise to her that he had slept so deeply through the night. He so needed the rest, and she could only be glad that she had not woken him with the ravages of her nightmares. Gods... As she ran her fingers gently along the smooth skin of his cheek, the memory of her most recent nightmare assaulted her, sending a blade of ice through her heart. For a moment, she imagined him laying lifeless beside her as he had been in the dream, and the pain nearly caused her to cry out aloud. Gods, I could never live without you, my love. It would kill me to see you like that... I know it. A single tear sliding slowly down her cheek attested to the depth of the Huntress’ fear as she held onto the man she loved and tried desperately to forget what it had felt like to see his cold body. ******* "I wish you did not have to go." Yui chided herself for the tears stinging her eyes, repeating for the thousandth time, that day, that they had only been nightmares, that there was nothing to fear. She clung to Aegon, shivering slightly despite the warmth of the day, as he wrapped his arms around her in a tender embrace. "As do I, my love, but you know I don’t have a choice. We may be at war, but that doesn’t mean I can ignore my duties as diplomat to the other guilds of Terra." Her lover sighed softly, brushing his lips across her forehead in a feather-light caress. "I’ll be gone for just a few days." Protected by his warmth, it was easy to feel like the dreams and the fear were silly and foolish and childish, so Yui merely nodded and forced a small smile. "I will wait for your return with my usual impatience, dearest heart. Be very careful." As she lifted her face to his for a kiss, she added a prayer to her words, Gods bring you back to me safely. When their lips parted, Aegon gave his lady love a warm, heartfelt smile and gently traced a finger along the darkened circles under her eyes. "I promise, worrier. And you have to promise me that you’ll get some rest. I don’t want to come home to find you laying abed, ill, because you’ve been exhausting yourself." "I promise." ... and, with one last loving kiss, he was on his horse and gone...

Peredhil: Yui dived under the covers and snuggled next to Aegon. As always he slept on his back. Burrowing under his arm, she nestled her head against his chest and let the calm rhythms of his breathing and heart lull her fears. Aegon's calm presence was the sun from whose shadows she walked and returned. Until now. We are One A chill frission wracked her frame and she snuggled even closer to her Love, pulling the comforter higher over her head. Waking suddenly, she felt smothered by her coverings. Clawing her way from under the twisted blankets, she broke air like a dolphin emerging from warm waters. The shadows danced eerily in the flickering flames of the chamber's many candles. As her heart subsided to a slower rhythm she chided herself for being caught like a child in fribbling thoughts. The shadows reached for her contrary to the their natural movements. Looming high over the bed, shrinking to naught, they approached steadily, slipping like an odor through the wards. Yui faced them with a certain confidence - Shadows she walked, Shadows she travelled, Shadows she controlled. Sitting up, heedless of the blanket slipping down to pool at her waist, Yui lunged forward and caught one of the approaching shades. Flipping its extremity around her hand rapidly, she sent a surge of power that blasted its Essence. A narrowing of eyes and a moment's concentration and she held a shadow Whip. Snapping it with lightning flicks she began to drive the other Shadows back from the bed. Play with the Huntress? Her teeth gleamed like pearls as she bared them in a snarl. Flick. Flick. As her Whip struck the Shadows, holes began to tear and run with in them. Advancing from the bed, she herded them toward the center of the Chamber. Whirling the Whip around rapidly, she enfused it with power until its core was Stygian blackness, an aching hunger, and then lashed it forward to encircle the night marauders. With a pop, they imploded. Someone will pay for this! Turning back to the bed, the light in her green-grey eyes went out. Aegon lay lifeless, a cloying black veil resting over his nose and mouth. With a scream, Yui awoke. The shadows danced eerily in the flickering flames of the chamber's many candles. Rumbling in the recesses of her mind, a Cheshire Smile and a voice. We are One... She spent the rest of the sleepless night watching Aegon peacefully sleep. * * * * * With a hoarse chuckle, the mage jerkily heaved himself erect. The sparks in the crystal had begun to die; the brazier's flames had sunk to reddened coals. As he moved to shovel more fires into the gold-washed basin, his black robe was revealed to be closer to the color of a buboe's dark clots of blood, a sickenish blackish-red hue. Moving back to the floating ball, he allowed his shadow to play across it. Lightning thundered in response as his anguished scream fought through the curtained walls to fuel with the raging storm. We are ONE! * * * * * The child sat at the Dream Weaver's feet, lolling as bonelessly as a sleeping puppy. His large dark eyes watched the bottom of her embroidery, the flickering needle and stitches. From his position, the fabric is a tangled weave of threads, dangling blacks and browns, knotted yellows and blues, broken greens and whites. "Why do you stitch such an ugly thing when the finished ones are so pretty? The Dream Weaver smiled down and nudged him with a slippered foot. Graeson, you see only the back, not the face shown to the world. Stirring and stretching, the youth complained sleepily. I think it's ugly. And why do you always call me by Father's name. I know I'm his son. Who am I? The needle hovered and stopped, trembling. Dearest child, if I called you by your true Name, you would awaken to your self leave me. I'd never leave you! the young man protested, eyes flashing. Turning the embroidery, the Dream Weaver showed the man the other side. Golden flowers carpeted a grassy glen, framed by hoary trees in which nightingales sang. Not all threads' Weave Are as they first perceive The tangled paths of Dream Contain more than they seem... With a start, the Dream Weaver jerked awake. Rapidly her fingers sorted the thousand threads that had spun into being, her shuttle flashing in and out of the Warp and Weave, the threads passing on and out of sight as she wondered what Hand had laid such a memory on her. With a frown she noted that while she'd nodded, the jet black thread had strengthened. The golden thread had been caught in others, several threads so braided and wound together that the individuals could hardly be distinguished. All together they spun around the black thread as ivy around a Doric column. Her frown was tinged with fear, for sometimes the Loom weaved the Weaver...

Zool: As he climbed the steep winding stair up to his master's chamber, his mind returned to the dream he had just experienced. For years he had been having the same dream, of his boyhood happiness, and then the death of his father when the marauders came and sold him into slavery. But that was 20 years ago, and a slave he might as well have been all his life. But why the change now? He wondered at the hard real feeling of the storm, and the sun, and the woman's presence... Most dreams were fleeting, unreal phantoms that left an impression, and then left. But not this one. This one felt so REAL! He would never forget the woman's face, literally burned into his memory like the rays of the sun. He was nearing the chamber now, and his mind tried to return to his tasks, but still a part of him lingered on the dream. He hoped he would see the woman again, but was afraid he would also find the storm...

Zool: High on the crags of Lonely Mountain, a perpetual storm whipped at the crumbling battlements of an ancient castle. Thunder cracked, the lightning brilliantly strobing the rainsoaked stone and bare mountain peak the castle rests on. A thin track wound it's way up to the castle gate, which stood open, for who would want to come here? Deep in the castle a sinister figure sits. It is a large room, the walls covered by black curtains. The only light is from a small glowing brazier some distance behind the seated figure. Cloaked in black, nothing can be seen of the mysterious mage. A large ball, perfectly ground from black crystal, is floating in front of the figure. He appears to be concentrating, meditating on the crystal ball. "We are one…" he whispers hoarsely. "We are one." Sparks begin to flash within the ball… * * * * * At the outer edges of consciousness, beyond the plane of fear, lies the place where dreams are made. In this realm between the light of today and the darkness of nevermore, of mis-spent regrets of the past and deep desires for what may never come, the Dream Weaver steadily labors. To the heavenly sounds of the roiling celestial symphony, gleaming strands of infinite minutia are wound together in her loom of the unconscious, skillfully depicting the pattern of scenes and actions we see in our slumbering. We can see the the larger pattern, but the secrets of the weave are hers alone. She worked tirelessly at her loom, flying the shuttle, kicking the beater, constantly monitoring the weft and the warp. The strands she constantly checked and snipped, weaving the dreams she knew the dreamer would dream, with complete confidance and perfect skill. But then something made her pause… She looked at the Jet black strand again in disbelief. This couldn't be right, she thought, staring up the length of the thread. But as was often the case, it was very difficult to make out details from outside of her realm, and it's origin quickly became indistinguishable amoung the infinite other meta-urges somewhere in the darker reaches of the Omniverse. She had seen all manner of dreams, all manner of horrors and delights, of fantasies and memmories, but something just wasn't right here. She had no choice but to use the strand, that was clear, but the fiber was of a severity she had rarely seen, it made her hand grow cold just to hold it. Checking the warp of the tapestry in progress, showing the horrible mismatch that was occuring out of the golden thread of the dreamer and the jet black thread available to her, she knew she would have to take action, as a tear was imminent with this strand. She Took a careful look at several of the other tapestries being completed that night. "Ah-ha," she said at the sight of what she needed. Deftly she picked up the silver shears and snipped a glowing thread, skillfully working it into the shuttle and letting it fly. The tapestry continued in a now workable pattern. Thus a new strand was was worked into the pattern, adding a new dimension to the twisting influence of the jet black thread. The Dream Weaver smiled a little smile in satisfaction at her work. * * * * * A sleeping figure lies in a jumbled mass of rags on the floor. The stone and wood room is dark, the one window boarded up. He mumbles to himself, deep in a dream. He is dreaming of when he was a child. His father is near, the one light of his life. He is laughing and at peace, when the sky darkens. This is what normally happens in the dream, just before he sees the burned, mangled remains of what moments before was his father. Suddenly something different happens. He looks up, and sees a furious dark storm approaching from the east. Then he looks west, at brilliant fleecy white clouds, and at a ray of sun which breaks free, picking him out, illuminating him like a god. The storm descends, and lashes him with it's fury. He feels the storm try to blow through him, trying disintegrate his spirit. "We are one," he hears. "We are one." The icy chill of the storm starts to penetrate the sunray he is caught in, and for a moment he feels as though his flesh is about to freeze, only to burst from the fiery heat of the sun… But the cold cannot penetrate far. He feels a young woman near. She is the sun! He sees her features in bas-relief on the photosphere, and her hair and ebon cloak as flowing coronas waving in the cosmic wind. Together they bear the torment of the storm, easing it for each other somewhat. They are new to each other, but yet, they have something powerful in common… And then she breaks free. Like a lamp blown out, her flame is gone. He watches as in the blink of an eye she retreats back to the sky. He sits bolt upright in his bed of rags, sweat pouring from his brow in the frigid air. Rats squeak at his sudden movement and scurried to the safety of their holes. Outside the perpetual storm beat against the boarded up window. "I had better check with the master," he thought half aloud as he crawled from his bed and felt for the door. The storm had been more severe of late, which he knew meant he would be needed shortly.

Yui-Temae: " You’ll find, I think, that the battle you are trying to fight is the wrong one. This war of insults and debate will go nowhere until t" ... The rest of the words faded into illegibility, the neatly-formed script shrinking down to nothing but a scribble. Beside the page, her fingers still loosely gripping the shaft of the quill, Yui-chan lay with her head on her arm, fast asleep. The guttering candle on the tabletop beside her sent shadows dancing across her features, creating motion on the stillness of her smooth, fair skin and lighting the tired circles that underlined her eyes. In the stillness of deepest night, the only sound was the rhythmic whisper of her breath stirring one corner of the yellowed parchment. But even in sleep, peace eluded the Huntress-mage, and her brow furrowed in consternation as the dream began... ‘One.’ The voice closed around her heart like a vise, stopping it cold. Unable to move, unable to breathe, she could feel the cold seeping into her core, into her soul. Without motion, she struggled, fighting to hold onto a light that was quickly extinguishing, a warmth that was fading to nothing under the onslaught of pitch black. ‘We are One.’ She wanted to scream, wanted to shout her desire to stay apart, to keep herself, but she was not free to do so. ... and she knew she was losing, caught between the enemy without and the enemy within, fighting a battle against hopeless odds. As the realization stabbed into what was left of her heart, she cried silently, tears sliding down her cheeks as the void closed over her shoulders, crawling its way along the soft skin of her neck. Fear joined the grief as she reached desperately for the soft, flickering light that pierced the blackness high above her head. ‘Help me,’ she whispered, the void flowing around her ears and along her cheekbones as she strained, stretching her hand as best she could. Silence was her answer, but there was never a chance for another plea. With finality, the icy darkness flowed into and over the only color left, swallowing the grey-green of her terror-filled eyes... Yui-chan awoke with a violent jerk, her arm whipping across the surface of the desk in a desperate attempt to protect herself from nothing at all, sending parchments, quills, a wax stick, and her glass inkwell to the ground in a flurry of chaotic motion. The crash of the fragile container against the bare stone of her chamber floor only made the Huntress jump again, watching in mild shock as the pitch black liquid flowed around the broken glass and across the stones towards her bare feet. For a moment, she could only stare in mute horror as it moved, the imagery of her dream flashing before her eyes... It reached for her, staining her with its grip, infecting her with ice and emptiness. With a little yelp, Yui shoved her chair back, only further damaging her shattered nerves as the chair toppled with a terrible clatter. Unnerved, shaking, unreasonably terrified, the young human backed away from the dark puddle as if it truly could harm her, wide eyes fixed on its every motion. As her nervous retreat took her to the foot post of her canopied bed, she reached out absently to grab a hold of the sturdy wood, using its strength to restore what she could of her own. After a moment, the magess managed to tear her gaze from the innocent ink, closing them in an effort to gain control of her rampaging fear. G-gods... calmly. It was a nightmare, only a nightmare. As she sank weakly onto the soft mattress, she took a deep breath, wondering why she did not quite believe that. Calmly... Yui sat motionless on the edge of her bed for long moments, forcing herself to breathe and simply concentrate all her attention on the steady rhythm of those breaths. Eventually, she felt composed enough to open her eyes and force herself to look carefully over the room. With the exception of the mess that she’d made around the desk, everything looked normal, the deep shadows growing deeper as the nub of candle began to burn to its wick end. Heaving a deep sigh, Yui pushed back to her feet and went to the cupboard to fetch a spare candle. At this moment, the last thing she wanted was for the light to die in the room, leaving her in total darkness on such a moonless night. It would come for her, then, and – Stop that! There’s nothing going to come get you, Yui. It was just a nightmare. Her anger at herself momentarily overshadowed her fear, and she strode across the room to the dying candle, quickly using its flame to ignite its younger twin. Are you a child to be skulking about your chambers like a mouse because of a dream? Yes, it was frightening, and felt very real, but it was nothing, a figment of your exhausted imagination. Ebon is silent and under control, way too weak to be any danger! You’ve just been working too hard, worrying too much, and fighting too often because of this war. The Huntress nodded to herself, carrying the lit candle over to her bedstand and slipping it into a spare holder there. Now, stop quaking like a mouse and get some sleep. The letter to the guilds can wait until morning. Despite her determination, Yui-chan could not stop the fear from returning as she slipped under the soft covers... She fell asleep with the candle still burning on the little table beside her, and a chilling voice echoing through her thoughts. ‘One. We are One...’

Archmage: Reincarnation from Hell, Archmage Bulletin Board : Conservatory -> Stories Yui Temae - Author's Introduction: This is written for and by myself, Zool and Peredhil. I would ask that the rest of you please restrain yourselves from writing here, for now... You'll get your chance in one of the other threads, but if you're desperate, start your own. Well, Zool and Peredhil, you'd better be prepared by now. I'm afraid, in typical Yui style, I've written a sizeable introduction to the story already. Do with it what you will, and if you don't want to do something with it yet I'll likely add more tomorrow. This is completely freeform, meaning that I have no particular plan (or at least, if I do have something in mind, I fully expect you two to mutate it into something completely different with your own writings ) but want to give you free reign throughout the story to guide it in whatever direction you want. In some ways, this means that whoever posts controls the story, I guess. I'm rather fond of this method because we get to challenge each other by throwing puzzles or obstacles in the way. If you're scratching your head, There's Always a Tavern was a freeform roleplaying story. We just ... wrote it in turns, without a direction in mind. When someone had a good idea of where to take things, they just ... did. Now, then... since I've already written a small book for this thread... I think I'd better start.

Peredhil hastens through on a bicycle and shouts Whether prose or poetry or twittle, I'd hope we'll see more than a little- Titles you may see Serve you and for me And for them we shouldn't give a fiddle. Dexteriously avoiding the person walking through the door, he shoots out down Jechum's path.

Peredhil, passing by, Thrust his head through the window with a cry. Excellent idea! However I fear, I shan't be able to comply. Checking his List, he hurried onward, missing the comraderie of his friends.

Peredhil quickly casts a cleansing spell on his Armani suit and glares at Santa Wvyern. After a moment, he casts and cleans Rahsash Geldich's clothing as well. Grasping the guitar firmly by its neck, he resists other neck-grasping motions. Turning away from Wyvern, he welcomes Rahsash with a Polite "If you'll email me at peredhil31@hotmail.com, I'd be pleased to send you the password to the Critic's Corner..."

Rushing as always of late, Peredhil enters through one door and immediately heads toward another. His Lists of Lists tops the stack of Lists and he's marking off items as he walks at a brisk pace. Guido, at the bar talking with Guido the Bartender, motions to Nuncio and they converge on the bustling Half-Elf. Moments later, Elrond realizes his legs are moving, but he's not going anywhere. Once they have his attention, the Guinea Pigs lower him until his feet touch the floor. "Yo Boss," rasps Guido in an itchy whisper, "I tink youse fergettin' some lil' ting." With a sigh, Elrond begins frantically flipping through his Lists. Nuncio leans in and whispers to his other ear. "Bhurin just joined. You remember him?" Gesturing vaguely in the direction of the enormous Battle Angel, Nuncio prompts Peredhil memory, "Emissary? Order of the Quill from Legion? Exciting writer? Polished P-" "Bhurin!" Elrond's grey eyes lighten momentarily, Of course!" Turning to the Bartender, Peredhil announces loudly, Drinks are free until the next immediately coming New Year! (Local Time!) Ignoring Wyvern's shrieks of horror as visions of lost geld dance in his head, Peredhil continues out the door, meeting Elladan as he exits. "I don't have time for that, just Counter with what you ha-" The door snicks shut after the enervated Elder. ~~~ Elrond Peredhil, 31 Elder of Lists and Manners Bard of Terra (Thinks he might've won an Order of the Quill too, but would need to check the Legion site. )

Peredhil, walking back with Bhurin's contact information, cheers the newest applicant's poem, but unfortunately has little time to stop and chat. "I do hope you'll be patient on our Elder of Initiates," Peredhil says, gesturing at the brooding Elder, "he's thinking about how to get the most presents during the holidays." "Feel free to join in any of the public boards, I'm sure you'll find some of the feedback you desire." "Also don't be reluctant to provide feedback of your own. Many here are starved for echos of creativity and intelligence!" "Again welcome welcome!" "Please forgive me my haste!" Peredhil bows and hastens toward the door. Elrond Peredhil, 31 Elder of Lists and Manners Edit to match Wyvern's post. Edited by: peredhil31 at: 12/28/01 5:11:38 am

Peredhil wonders from where the pin came, as he uses sticky stars. Suspecting a practical joke, he looks for Wyvern, the Squirrel Duo, and Doctor Evil, in that order. With a shrug in turns to Bhurin. Thank you for the contact information, I appreciate the timely response. And I'm truly sorry if I injured you! That would be Rude and therefore I'm disconsolate. Respectfully (and hastily), Peredhil

Peredhil wanders in and licks a gold star with the word Initiate written on it with a Sharpie pen and sticks it on to Bhurin's chest. Welcome! You'll need to send me an email address so you can get passwords and such. he says laconically and wanders away to update his lists. Elrond Peredhil, 31 Elder of Lists and Manners (peredhil31@hotmail.com)

Rah! D&D inspired events. Love 'em. Your works are always work reading. -Peredhil

He spent the next day walking on air. It was a pecularly slippery feeling, and he didn't really like it. It was better than the pain. It was strange to look through the shimmer layer of refracting air and see the raw wounds where he'd walked through the blisters into the flesh. He tried poking at them with his finger, but it slid off to the side. The Voices on his feet laughed shrilly at his exploratory efforts, unbothered by such gross material things as fingers. His uncle winced in sympathy at the sight of his soles. He was starting to like Uncle Mordecai.

I'd welcome another covering of the battle from the other point of view as you originally intended. Pick up a Pen and start writing!