The Gaze of Eternity

Ozymandias · June 6, 2003

Some dozens of yards away, Gyrfalcon tended to Timothy's injuries as best he could.

Even as a mage, the young man had him worried. While he had taken only supeficial outer injuries in the battle with the zombies, he still wasn't sure what Timothy's altercation with Elena had done to his insides. And the fact that they had had to stop their trek abruptly due to the bedraggled man's rapidly rising fever concerned Gyrfalcon even more. Even though his outer injuries were relatively light, there were several of them that were open wounds- that had been caused by animated cadavers. Kaylera had done what she could, but had seemed far too distracted with what could very delicate work, so Gyrfalcon had kindly but firmly sent her downstream to relax. And so she would hear no screams, if need be, he relflected grimly.

Gwaihir · June 10, 2003

It was fun frightening this ridiculous bird Myth thought, but this was beginning to get out of hand. She just hadn't remembered how little teasing the bird-lady could take.

The frazzled assassin rubs her hand through her hair and turns to glare at Kalyera. "Sit down and chill out! You're driving me nuts."

Kalyera shivered a bit at this sudden out-burst and the way Myth had turned on her all of a sudden . Numbly, she obeyed the order to sit down, but clutched her pack as tight as ever. It was probably best to do as the assassin said, particularly if she'd killed Y'Tren. Nothing about this conversation was reassuring.

Myth, from her point of view, saw that she was going to have to drop the hard-line intimidation tactics that were her wont. Clearly, only a calming hand could put this woman together to be of any use to

anyone.

Myth tried to take a kinder tone as she went on. "If I had killed him myself then why would I be telling you? If I killed him I'd end up having to the rest of this company and that sounds ratherŠbad for my health. No, of course I didn't kill him!" Myth noticed as the tension visible in the bird-lady's body dropped a bit. Evidently Kalyera believed her. She certainly did seem the trusting type and that was convenient considering that Myth wasn't even lying, for

once.

"He was fighting beside me after that friendly little priestess acquaintance of ours decided to give us multitudes of

zombies." At this the scholar looked a bit surprised and probably would have said something, but Myth would brook no

interruption and hurried on before the she could speak. "We killed the zombies, but then she blasted him. He was dead on

the spot. I revenged him, but when she died the priestess created more super-strong zombies. That got boring so I ducked

off and came to find you all."

Kalyera took a deep breath. It was at least a relief that this rather brusque companion of hers seemed to have not murdered any of

her company yet, but her way of telling stories leftŠa lot of room for improvement. "More zombies" she said, thinking of the

zombies that her piece of the party had met. However, Myth only took the statement as a reference to the second instalment of zombies that she and Y'Tren had met.

"Yes, I just said that," she snapped. "When she died she sent more super-zombies." Kalyera blinked, but Myth went on

again. "Now, I was thinking that maybe this stream leads to the pond. It would make sense at least. Things do tend to

flow into things. Let's walk along the stream towards its source and meanwhile you can tell me what's been happening over

here." Mentally Kalyera underscored pushiness on the list of Myth's bad traits. She paused for a moment, divided. On

one hand, she wanted to see this pond that might be--she strictly quashed her doubts--that was the saving of her people.

But, on the other hand, she wasn't sure that it was wise to go galumphing off without telling anyone and without regard for what

Elena might feel she had to do to protect this water, which she was the self-appointed guardian of.

Yui-chan · June 17, 2003

"I... " Kaleyra wavered, uncertainty clear in her eyes as she glanced back towards where she knew Gyrfalcon, Timothy and the mysterious Elena were waiting for her. In the end, it came down to the fact that there was nothing to tie her to the others any longer. Timothy needed a mage like Gyrfalcon more than he needed the scholar's limited medical knowledge, and she certainly owed no favors to the Pool's self-styled guardian. In fact, it would probably be best to distance herself from the woman, so that she couldn't interfere with the Avian's mission. And Gyrfalcon... Kaleyra's eyes clouded at the thought of how little she had to offer, to Gyrfalcon most of all. Now that she'd gone to the limits of her research, she was nothing but a burden to the mage, especially with more zombies about. She could not help in battle or in the last leg of their journey. He and the others would do perfectly well without her.

"Um... that sounds logical, Myth." The winged woman nodded, finally, her gaze meeting the assassin's. "We can ascertain the precise location of the Pool, and once we've availed ourselves of the wisdom it grants, we can help the others find it." She didn't mention her thought that they could also verify that it wasn't going to kill them outright. It wasn't worthy, and she didn't believe...

Myth made a noncommittal sound and gestured impatiently downstream. "Let's go, then."

"Wait..." The Avian shook her head, rifling around in her pack. "We should at least let the others know that we've gone, don't you think? We don't want them to worry about us."

As Kaleyra fished out a piece of parchment and her ink and quill out of her pack, Myth shook her head and leaned up against the nearest tree trunk. "What makes you think they'd worry, hm?"

Her biting tone was rewarded by a wince from the scholar. "... well... it... doesn't harm anything to cover the possibility, correct?" Myth grinned a bit. It was amusing the play on the bird's insecurities.

A few moments later, two filled canteens and a hastily-scrawled note hung from the trunk of the largest tree in the clearing, pinned to the scarred wood by a small throwing knife. They were the only remaining sign that the scholar and the assassin had ever been there.

Wyvern · June 17, 2003

Elsewhere, at the clearing where Gyrfalcon heals Timothy's wounds, Elena paces back and forth in front of a tree restlessly, taking note of each second of valuable time the party was losing in waiting for Kaleyra's return. Pausing for an instant, the guardian of the isle quietly clenches her teeth and growls in frustration before turning towards Gyrfalcon and Timothy and exclaiming:

"This is absurd! I've waited for your companion Kaleyra long enough... we're losing precious time. I'm certain that for each minute the avian has been spending in quiet contemplation, another undead minion has moved a step closer to the Pool. We musn't waste another instant! Let us go find her... now!"

Gyrfalcon silently nods as Timothy raises himself to his feet, brushing the dust from his tunic. Kaleyra had spent quite a bit of time in solitude... it was high time the adventurers met up with her and departed towards the pool in the hopes of defending it.

Elena leads the two adventurers as she swiftly follows the trail Kaleyra had made towards the small clearing by the stream, agilely dodging several hanging vines and bushes of thorns as she rushes through the overgrown wood. Upon arriving at Kaleyra's previous clearing, Elena comes to a halt and frowns, slowly crossing her arms over her chest as she scans the now-empty grove. Gyrfalcon and Timothy arrive closely behind her, and are both shocked to find that their scholarly companion is missing...

"Kaleyra?!" shouts Gyrfalcon, to no response.

Turning towards the two adventurers, Elena coldly mutters:

"It seems that your avian companion has abandoned you... you needn't be so shocked. Betrayal is a rather common occurence amongst parties who have discovered this isle, as is cowardice. As it stands, with her lack of faith in you all, she would not have been an asset to the party-"

"You're wrong." interrupts Gyrfalcon somewhat angrily. "Having traveled with Kaleyra, I know that she's a brave and caring individual... Besides, even if she doesn't represent an asset to the party, she's an asset to us."

Timothy nods vigorously to this statement, turning towards Gyrfalcon and then Elena. Suddenly noticing the note that Kaleyra had attached to a tree, the historian quickly rushes towards the trunk and tears the sheet off of it, reading it over carefully...

Gyrfalcon · June 28, 2003

Timothy turned around and looked at Gyrfalcon. "Sorry, Gyrfalcon... it looks like Elena was right."

Gyrfalcon looked puzzled, then took the note that Timothy handed him. He read the graceful, flowing hand that could only be Kaleyra's with growing disbelief. Finally, he shook his head and growled something in the rolling Dwarvern language. He held his breath for a long moment, his eyes closed, then slowly let it out, slumping slightly.

The half-elf opened his eyes and looked at Elena. "Well, it seems you were right. Kaleyra and Myth, our companion who you have not yet met, are traveling towards the Pool. Myth killed a member of the other party, but our other companion, Y'Tren, died during that struggle."

Elena shook her head and sighed, as if to say See? It never works out... She looked grim "So now there are three groups, it seems. Hopefully your companions and this other party will listen to reason, or can be tricked away from the Pool."

Gyrfalcon took a deep breath, then let it out. "I hope that this hold true for my companions, but the others... I doubt."

Elena shook her head and looked grim. "We must get to the Pool as quickly as possible, before anyone else can reach it. Come, follow me." She strode from the clearing without looking back at the other two.

Gyrfalcon and Timothy exchanged glances for a long moment, then Timothy walked after Elena. As he passed Gyrfalcon, he stopped. "Ideals fall hard, don't they?" Timothy asked softly, his tone almost... compassionate. Without waiting for a response, Timothy departed the clearing, pausing only to collect the filled canteens that Kaleyra had left behind for them.

Gyrfalcon closed his eyes and sighed, alone in the clearing now. He couldn't believe that Kaleyra would abandon the rest of the group, though he understood that Myth would. That Y'Tren was dead was likewise a surprise. But Kaleyra...

Why, Kaleyra? Why would you abandon us... and me? Gyrfalcon stopped at the thought and shook his head. He liked the scholarly Avian and was astonished by how much she knew, even more so for the fact she was not an Archmage and did not have their endless lifetimes to learn. He wondered if there had been something growing between them that he had missed. Lost in his thoughts, Gyrfalcon didn't hear the shuffling thumps of footfalls until they were close.

Spinning around, the half-elf drew and slashed with his katana, but the zombie raised an arm to block. Normally, that would have presented no problem to Gyrfalcon's heavily enchanted blade. This obviously wasn't 'normally'. The blade cut through unfeeling flesh, but glanced off the bone and deflected away. Almost gaping, Gyrfalcon barely managed to get out of the way as the zombie clubbed at him with its arms. Gyrfalcon learned quickly that this zombie was much stronger then normal as his arms nearly buckled after he tried to block one clubbing attack. Dancing backwards, he parried and deflected the zombie's blows, countering with quick slashes but unable to get the space to counter with a heavy enough blow to really harm the zombie.

The half-elf was nearly struck by the zombie when the brush rustled right behind him. Darting out of the path of whoever was coming, Gyrfalcon deflected another blow from the zombie as it turned to continue its attack. There was a silvery flash, and the zombie's head tumbled forward, mostly severed from its neck. With a yelp, Timothy hit it again with his oversized sword, finally severing its head from its shoulders. The zombie flailed blindly for a moment or two longer, then collapsed.

Gyrfalcon grounded his katana and panted for breath. "Thanks... Timothy. How'd you... know to... come back?"

Timothy edged away from the zombie, looking slightly green. "I looked back a minute or two down the trail and you weren't there, so I decided to check back to see if you somehow missed the path."

Elena strode into the clearing, angry and impatient. "What are you two dawdling over?! We have to get to the-" She caught sight of the zombie. "Oh."

Faintly, Gyrfalcon could hear brush rustle and crackle, and he straightened. "I think more of them are coming. I suggest we leave now."

Timothy nodded vigorously, and Elena nodded as well. "No time to waste, we must get to the Pool." She said firmly. The three set off down the trail, moving rapidly, each knowing that somewhere, an hourglass had been turned, and that it was now a race between themselves, Kaleyra and Myth, and the church burners.

Wyvern · July 8, 2003

As Elena and the two adventurers dart down the path as fast as their legs can carry them, and Myth and Kaleyra make equal progress rapidly following the stream towards the Pool, two ominous figures arrive at the ancient entrance of the Temple of Isaiis. One of the figures casually steps passed the numerous crumbled statues of heroes that litter the grounds outside the Temple, happily admiring the many ancient sigils that mark the Temple's enormous arched gateway as he approaches it. The second figure follows closely behind the first, gently rubbing a spot where one of his eyes used to be as a large sack he carries bounces relentlessly against his sword scabbard. Upon every bounce, the contents of the bag seem to figdet and mumble, and occasionally a stifled cry can be heard from within...

Arriving at the gateway of the giant temple and tenderly rubbing a hand across the many symbols engraved on the exterior walls, Jagon cheerfully turns towards his companion Kraisis and grins as he exclaims:

"We've finally reached our destination... doesn't the temple look glorious?! Even after all these years, it still maintains the majestic appearence that the clans had intended when they built it... Such is the result of a monument built by those true of faith, with only the purest of intentions..."

Kraisis silently nods to this statement as the sack that he carries continues to fidget at his side.

"Our minions should be left outdoors..." continues Jagon "Call them from all sides of the island and position them for an ambush. I'm certain that our rivals will be arriving here eventually, and we musn't make entering the temple an easy task for them..."

"What of this pathetic excuse for a barbarian?" grumbles Kraisis as he holds up his bag. "I don't recall him being one of theirs..."

"Keep him." responds Jagon. "Even if he isn't part of the opposing party, the half elf has a soft spot for humans... use him as bait, and reap upon him the judgement that you see fit. Soon, vengeance shall be yours... an eye for an eye, as they say..."

"Aye... and a heart for a heart." growls Kraisis as he spits towards the ground coldly, kicking his sack angrily as another cry is emitted from within.

"Indeed..." mutters Jagon soothingly "It is most unfortunate that Celestia cannot bare witness to the Temple with us. She is certainly here in spirit, and you will have your revenge... Now come with me, and stand guard while I pray..."

With that, the two figures push open the enormous gateway and step into the Temple of Isaiis...

Wyvern · July 10, 2003

Myth and Kaleyra dash briskly through the tangled overgrowth adjacent to the stream, the avian scholar occasionally having a bit of difficulty keeping up with the assassin's pace. After what seems like an eternity of running and cutting through vines, the two adventurers finally come to a halt as Myth abruptly stops in the middle of a bundle of tangled weeds and trees, a delicate echo suddenly catching her attention. Glancing towards the ground on which she stands and noticing only vines and overgrowth, the assassin decides to feel the spot with one of her feet to make sure that nothing is amiss... Sure enough, though the feeling of plants and dirt is still there, another texture also seems to be present... that of stone.

Turning and signalling towards Kaleyra, Myth coldly exclaims:

"Come here, I think I've found something... You're the scholar, so you check it out..."

Kaleyra glances inquisitively towards Myth and the seemingly meaningless spot on the ground to which she points, hesitantly approaching the assassin...

"Something's here..." continues Myth in the same cold tone "... feel that spot by my feet."

Kneeling down on one of her knees and stroking a hand across the vines and dirt that line the ground next to Myth's boots, Kaleyra notes that the texture is certainly different... far more solid than the area surrounding it. The avian scholar immediatly sets about shaking off the vines and dirt that cover this particular spot, and Myth quickly kneels down to help her. It's not long before the two adventurers unveil a granite trapdoor embedded in the ground, with several ancient symbols still visibly engraved on it.

Kaleyra immediatly notices that two of the symbols are those of the S'den clan and the Vishari clan. Another symbol seems to depict a Temple, while yet another seems to show a man in distress...

Though the two adventurers weren't aware of it, they had accidentaly discovered an alternate entrance to the Temple of Isaiis that even Elena, who knew the island by heart, was completely unaware of. An escape route built ages ago for emergencies, yet which had never been put to use and had been completely forgetten, even by the Clans themselves...

Ozymandias · July 17, 2003

Timothy lurches along as fast as he can make his legs carry him, just barely staying at the rear of the Gyrfalcon and Elena. Suddenly, a tree looms up in front of him, and he manages to cushion the impact with an outsretched sweat-soaked palm at the last moment. He slumps against the tree in agonized relief, taking his breath in short, greedy gulps.

Damn, damn! Those were the curchgoers from the mainland we fought. Of course they're rife with infection by now...or poison. Death... Or worse. My brothers... I fear your predictions will come to pass...but would that be so bad?

The beleaguered adveturer gags on the literal and figurative bile in his throat. He wipes his mouth shakily.

Damned right it would, boy. Kalyera...Sulette...Sulette, my sun...I won't fail you again...come Hell or high water. With a mighty heave, Timothy pushes himself back upright.

Meanwhile, Gyrfalcon's battlefield commander's eye for his troops noted Timothy's abscence mere seconds after they had gone around the bend ahead of him.

"Something's wrong," he shoots back at Elena, already striding quickly back down the path the way they had come. He comes upon a wan and wasted Timothy standing alone, staring blankly ahead. "Tim? Tim, it's Gyrfalcon, are you alright?"

The young human fixes him with a steely gaze that his pallor belies. "I'm fine. Let's go." And with that, he slowly begins the jog forward again.

Edited July 17, 2003 by Ozymandias the Elder

Yui-chan · July 21, 2003

"By the first Mother!" Kaleyra knelt at the boundary of the strange stone, a smile blooming on her face as she tore away the last of the vines and brushed the dirt out of the carvings. "This is stupendous. It's not designated, nor even alluded to, in any of the texts, and yet its existence and purpose are unequivocal."

Myth raised brow, crossing her arms over her chest. "And that purpose is…?"

She earned herself a surprised glance from the scholar and a moment of pause before Kaleyra blinked and grinned, gesturing back at the stone. "It's a door, Myth. We're standing at the far end of a heretofore utterly unknown emergency egress from the Temple of Isaiis! Look, here are the acknowledged symbols for the S'den and Vishari clans," she gestured, tracing a finger around the intricate crest of the S'den, "and this pictograph clearly depicts a cleric fleeing the temple in a state of apparent distress. This one over here –"

"I get the picture, Bird Lady." The assassin interrupted, tapping her foot impatiently. "Can you open it?"

"Well, um... I'm certain I can," Kaleyra mumbled, her attention diverted as she rummaged in her pack, "The exit is clearly defended mainly by its remote and concealed location, so ... uh... I doubt that there will be any significant trap mechanisms. It's simply a matter of ... oh, come here you odiferous little – "

"What are you looking for?" Myth snapped, glaring down at the scholar as she muttered into the depths of her bag.

Kaleyra paused, blinking up at her with wide, blue eyes. "Why, my charcoal, of course. I must make rubbings of the carvings in order to add the relevant facts to the texts when I return."

The assassin growled in the back of her throat, closing her eyes in an attempt to control her rising temper. She ground out her words between clenched teeth. "Kaleyra. We're ... in... a... hurry."

The winged woman blinked, taken by surprise by her companion's anger. "W-well... I ... ah... it won't take but a moment, and ... um... a-and really it's quite imperative that this discovery n—"

"Do you want to reach the Pool or not, featherbrain?! We don't have time for sightseeing and note taking if you want to beat the church-burners and the others to your prize!" Myth shouted, glaring down at the cringing Avian as her harsh voice echoed in the sudden silence of the forest. Her nails bit deep into the palms of her hands as she fought the urge to strike out at the annoying scholar.

"I-I ... of course, I want to reach the ..." Kal stuttered, quickly tying her pack shut and tucking it safely between her wings. She frowned, as much because of Myth's agitation as at the sudden realization of what she'd said. "Wait. Beat the others? The murderers, certainly, but ... um... why would we need to attain the Pool before Gyrfalcon and Timothy? They aren't – "

"Oh, yes they are." Myth smirked, folding her arms across her chest once more. "They're our rivals now – have been since we left them by the creek. We betrayed them, after all." She leaned forward, watching as the scholar went ashen at the announcement.

"... b-betrayed? ... But..."

"No 'but'. What did you think you were doing when you decided to run off and find the Pool without the rest of the group? You left them behind, left Timothy injured and maybe dying. If that's not a betrayal, I don't know what is, Kaleyra," the assassin whispered, a dark grin slipping over her face. She was taking a rather perverse amount of pleasure out of teaching the naive little birdie a thing or two about the world, but she knew how that goody-two-shoes halfelf and his psychotic friend would see what they'd done. Just as she knew that the common-sense-deprived scholar wouldn't have thought of it in the same way. People could be so much fun to play with.

Kaleyra blinked, swallowing against a terrible, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. "T... Timothy isn't dying, he... " Her whisper trailed off into silence as the true weight of her decision struck her. She hadn't thought about Gyrfalcon and Timothy's feelings about her choice; she'd only done what seemed logical at the time. The scholar's eyes dropped to the stone beside her, and she blinked back the sting of tears. She hadn't thought. She hadn't realized. It was the worst failure yet.

"Time's wasting. Get this door open." Myth's voice was hard and unforgiving, cutting into Kaleyra's reflection like a whip against her back. She looked up into those cold eyes and saw the pleasure Myth took in her mistake.

Anger replaced self-pity in the scholar's gaze, and her resolve strengthened. She glared at Myth. "Yes. We'll get to the Pool first, and then we'll locate the others and show them the way. I didn't accompany you in order to betray my companions, Myth. I did it to avoid a potential threat to our mission, and they'll understand that. I'll explain it to them. You'll see."

Myth just grunted. "Just get the door open, bird. I'll go cut us some torches."

Kaleyra didn't answer, but bent over the stone, determined to solve its mysteries as soon as possible. She had a mission to complete and a very important mistake to correct...

Gwaihir · July 23, 2003

As she walked off into the brush Myth chuckled to herself-she really couldn't

understand why all the people who thought of themselves as team players always

immolated themselves on their obsession with teamwork. She knew that she was being

partly just being malicious as she showed her puzzlement to the naïve though rather kind

(what use is kindness anyway?) book-reader. That wasn't all though, partly Myth really

was puzzled, so she thought it over. In fact, it's probably good this was a woody

region, because Myth wasn't paying much attention to her task and she would never have

found the wood otherwise.

How could anyone not have realized that abandoning a hurt team-mate would be

considered bad by these self-effacing moralists? More importantly though, why would

anyone blame the flyer for looking out for herself? Whatever use could she have been?

Myth had never been taught to play in a team and to her it was simple to evaluate any

possible action: How much will I gain by that action and is that gain likely to be more

than what I will lose by angering my allies, contacts or even friends? More amusingly

yet, how the hell had Kaleyra got it into her had that Myth was on her side? Didn't she

remember that this uneasy partnership had only been started because no one involved had

wanted to risk an all-out battle? Myth wondered how could Kal not have noticed the way

everyone turned slightly to look at their friendly neighbourhood assassin when they

didn't think she was watching. Of Course Myth was leading the winged lady into actions

that benefited Myth more than Kaleyra! For a person who considered herself smart that

bird could be amazingly dumb.

With these reflections Myth arrived back at the stone slab and dumped four torches on

the ground-Who knows what could happen to one of them and it certainly didn't seem a

good idea to be lost in the dark.

"Aha" Kaleyra suddenly cried out.

"You know how to get it open?" asked the assassin, quite pleased.

"Weell, no not yet, but I will soon."

"So what's with the 'aha'?" asked Myth testily.

"I found the charcoal."

Myth groaned and Kaleyra quickly began to do her tracing.

Then just as the scholar had finished, something happened to make them both jump-

with a great grinding and creaking the stone began to slide forwards and out of the

way-Kaleyra jumped about a foot and then made a gesture that looked like a cheer, but

Myth just smiled slightly and tried to pretend that she had been expecting that. [/i]

"So what made it open?" Myth queried

"Well" The avian didn't sound too sure. "I knew the trigger would be simple; I guess all

it took was to press down on the whole stone. . . And it was a good thing I did the tracing

wasn't it?" she said with a smug grin. "If I had listened to you who knows when it

would have opened.

Myth ignored the avian and stepped down into the hole. As Kaleyra followed her Myth wondered if she didn't hear footsteps echoing somewhere in the stone, but she didnt' know so she said nothing besides "COME on!"

Wyvern · July 29, 2003

As Myth and Kaleyra enter the jaggedly carved granite tunnel leading into the darkness of the deepest regions of the Temple of Isaiis, Elena's party arrives at the central entrance of the ancient monument. Panting for breath and standing where Jagon and Kraisis had previously stood when they had arrived at the clearing, Gyrfalcon and Timothy gaze upon the magnificent architecture surrounding the venerable site of prayer.

The clearing surrounding the Temple of Isaiis is cluttered with the remnants of enormous statues, which had crumbled and collapsed after an eternity of aging. Those monuments that had once stood as symbols of the dominance of mankind now laid in ruins, covered in an aged blanket of moss and weeds. Certain parts of the statues, such as the noses and ears, now sheltered a variety of animals and insects, which had made their nests there. Despite the huge size of the statues, it takes the adventurers a moment to notice them due to their being well camoflauged underneath the dense foliage...

Beyond the crumbled statues littering the clearing lies the exterior walls and entrance of the legendary Temple of Isaiis... the resting place of the Pool of Eternal Reflection. Though the walls of the Temple had been fabricated with a stone similar to that of the statues surrounding it, it appeared to have aged far less... Only a few vines and weeds had made their marks upon the walls, which made the numerous etchings of symbols and writing still clearly visible. The only symbols that seemed faded were two large crests of the Vishari and S'den clans, both of which seemed nearly unidentifiable... The enormous gateway leading into the Temple lies hidden from the adventurers' view points, resting behind one of the many statues.

"Come on." mutters Elena, signalling to the adventurers with her left hand while stepping past a piece of a broken statue's head. "We haven't got any time to lose, let's make our way into the-"

The defender of the isle suddenly stops where she stands, unable to complete her sentence. Gyrfalcon and Timothy notice her eyes widening and quickly rush from their standing points to her current position, only to catch a glimpse of the enormous rusted gates leading into the Temple...

They were open.

"Damn..." growls Elena through clenched teeth, steadily clutching a hand over her staff. "Have we arrived too late...?"

As if to answer her question, the adventurers quickly turn as the trees and bushes surrounding the clearing suddenly quake and quiver. Before the adventurers can so much as mutter a word, hideous zombies and skeletons begin to pour out of the foliage from every direction, approaching the three heroes with awkward movements and swinging a variety of weapons. Dashing towards the Temple and backing themselves up against the walls as it seems to be the one place that zombies aren't emerging from, the adventurers turn to each other with frenzied and worried looks.

"There are too many..." growls a shocked Elena with a brief look of fear in her eyes. "It's impossible... we don't have time!"

Clutching her staff and preparing for combat as the zombies get closer to the walls, a frenzied Elena turns towards Timothy, then Gyrfalcon and exclaims:

"No... one of us needs to go in. Gyrfalcon. You're the strongest of us three, you should go. Go into the Temple, find the Pool, defend it at all costs... Timothy and I will defend you out here. We'll.. we'll join you later, right Tim?"

Timothy nods solemnly to this, unseathing his blade as his green eye shimmers slightly.

"We're counting on you."

Gyrfalcon · August 5, 2003

Gyrfalcon glanced at the undead, then at Timothy and Elena, their faces already taking on the grim casts of those who saw their deaths ahead but knew that their duty was more important.

Gyrfalcon clasped Timothy's shoulder and nodded to Elena. "Don't be heroes, you two. These undead aren't all that fast- all I need is a head start. If you can skirmish until the first cross corridor or whatever is in there, I'm sure you two can lose the undead inside. They'll never catch up with me.

Timothy smiled faintly. "Of course Gyr. Now get going, will you?"

Gyrfalcon shook his head and let out his breath slowly. "May the peace of the gods be with you both." He said as a final benediction before running into the Temple, his katana clutched in his hands.

Behind him, he heard Elena shout a battle cry and the meaty thunk of Timothy's sword shearing undead flesh. The half-elf ran on.

At the first intersection, Gyrfalcon slowed for a moment before continuing straight ahead. While this Temple had obviously been built in honor of the Pool of Eternal Reflection, it was also designed for defense. Proof of this was found a hundred feet ahead, a zombie felled by an acid trap, from the looks of the remains. Gyrfalcon's lips thinned. The charismatic man and the anti-paladin had obviously come this way. Gyrfalcon had hoped that the only ones ahead of him were his wayward companions, but this was obviously not so.

Gyrfalcon charged ahead, leaping over the zombie's remains and raced down the corridors ahead. Every moment now counted. He had to overtake the church burners or reach the Pool ahead of them. Despite Elena's warnings, Gyrfalcon didn't want to trust to the possibility that his enemies had not found out a way to avoid the death that followed eternal wisdom.

Ahead, the corridor split into three paths. Gyrfalcon hesitated, but something warned him from taking the obvious path down the center. Instead, he raced down the left-hand path. Moments later, his senses screamed a warning to him. The half-elf felt something tug against his leg, and he threw himself into a twisting dive, feeling the rush of the wind as darts swept abovehim at chest level, a few imbedding themselves in his cloak and one bouncing against his shoulder, but none penetrating.

lying on his back, Gyrfalcon recovered one of the darts and inspected it. As he suspected, a dried black substance stained the tip of the dart- no doubt that it once had been a virulent poison, but now, it was nothing but a black stain. The half-elf doubted he wanted even the dried version of the poison in his body, however.

Rolling over, Gyrfalcon crawled forward, not surprised to find another tripwire several feet down the corridor to deal with anyone who managed to avoid death in the first trap by luck or by guile. After a few moments, Gyrfalcon determined that this trap repeated the same trap as the one before. Gyrfalcon shook his head at the trap designer's lack of cunning- if the first attempt didn't work, why would more of the same?

The half-elf stepped over the trip wire and continued cautiously down the corridor. However, no other trip wires presented themselves, and all of the stones seemed firm under his cautious step. Reaching the end of the corridor, Gyrfalcon was presented with a simple doorway. There was a simple lock on the doorway, but even after several minutes, the half-elf couldn't detect any sort of trap. He extracted a probe from the top of his boot and used it to quickly unlock the door. Replacing the probe, the half-elf walked through, and as he did so, felt the tingle as he breached a magic ward.

With a mental curse, Gyrfalcon threw himself away from the doorway, even as the ceiling rumbled and collapsed, a massive block slamming down where the half-elf had been standing moments before. Leaping to his feet, he raced down the corridor, the ceiling collapsing in behind him. He reached a simple archway and dived through, and again felt himself break a ward.

"Damn it!" The half-elf said as he rolled to his feet, ready to run again. But the room didn't seem to be in any danger of collapsing.

The half-elf walked forward into the center of the large room and looked around. It was completely unfurnished and nearly unornamented, when compared to the rest of the Temple. Two statues, armored and armored as warriors, one each from the Vishari and S'den clans flanked the doorway across the chamber from the half-elf. The walls were nearly unornamented, worked with only simple designs.

Gyrfalcon shook his head, a bit surprised that death wasn't raining down all around him, but more then willing to accept the momentary respite. Stepped forward, he started to walk between the two statues when their arms moved, crossing swords in front of the startled half-elf.

In a grating, rumbling voice, one of the statues demanded something in a language that was beyond the half-elf's experience. "I don't suppose you'll believe me if I say that I'm allowed through, will you?" Gyrfalcon said dryly. The two statues slowly rose, shields rising into position and swords held ready.

"I thought not." Gyrfalcon said, retreating away from the statues as they stepped forward.

"You know..." he said, darting forward to hack at one statue before having to dive back as the sword came across, much faster then he had expected. "It's things like you that made me retire from adventuring once!"

The statues didn't seem to care that he had retired before, but only that he was here now. With implacable steps, they advanced, swords slashing whenever the half-elf seemed to be in range. Gyrfalcon was forced to give ground steadily against the golems' awesome strength, darting in and out as he could to hack at the statues, his enchanted blade cutting gouges in their shields where a normal blade would have only created sparks, but it wasn't doing anything to stop the golems.

Gyrfalcon knew he was running out of room, and fought as hard as he could to slow the golems' advance, but he was forced back against the wall. The two swords thrust ahead, and the half-elf spun away, avoiding the blows by a hair's breadth. Turning with a vicious sweep, he managed to cut through one golem's leg and nicked the other golem's arm. The first golem went down with a resounding crash that shook the chamber, and failed to move. "Heh, I see that 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall' rule holds true." Gyrfalcon said, ducking a vicious backhand slash as the second golem freed its sword from the wall. Darting forward, Gyrfalcon put his sword through its kneecap and heaved on the hilt, widening the crack. Despite his efforts, the leg refused to break, and he was forced back as the golem bashed him with its shield, sending the half-elf flying across the room.

Gyrfalcon unsteadily rose to his feet in time to watch the golem lurch towards him, and he heard a grinding crack as the golem's weakened left leg gave way. He covered his ears as the statue toppled forward and smashed into the floor, shaking the chamber with its fall. The half-elf shook his head to still the ringing in his ears from the shield bash and moved forward to reclaim his katana. Looking at the golems, he shook his head. "I hope I don't have to deal with too many more of those."

The half-elf trotted from the chamber, remembering that he was in a race, and hoped as well that his competitors were experiencing as many troubles as he was.

Wyvern · August 6, 2003

Panting and catching his breath for a moment while glancing at the crumbled remains of the granite golems he had defeated, Gyrfalcon suddenly remembers that he has no time to lose and makes haste. Silently praying that the ceiling rock trap he had set off wouldn't cause any obstructions to his allies should they need to escape from the hords of zombies outdoors, the half-elf hero takes a deep breath and pushs open the ancient doors previously blocked by the stone Temple guardians... Stepping through the arch of the doorway and into the central prayer chamber of the Temple of Isaiis, Gyrfalcon stops for a moment to intake the haunting beauty of his surroundings.

Before him lies a vast chamber of numerous well-carved seats, with an ancient pulpit and alter resting at the far end of it. Many of the seats have become rusted and have degraded with age, yet still hold a strange, mystical beauty about them. This is particularly the case of the alter at the far end of the room, which ressembles what once might have been an angel holding a jewel-studded chalice...

Noticing doors adjacent to each side of the giant alter along with two open passageways on the left side of the camber and a door on the right, Gyrfalcon curses to himself and randomly chooses a passage, dashing down one of those on his left. Striding down the hallway and passing another potential passage on his right, Gyrfalcon stops and sighs as he comes to a T-junction. Frustrated at not knowing the directions to the Pool in this maze, the heroic adventurer is about to search for guiding symbols of some sort when suddenly, a sound catches his ears. The sound is faint, almost non-existant...

"... he... l..."

Gyrfalcon halts in his search for symbols and remains motionless, focussing on hearing the faint sound. Tilting his head a bit, he hears it slightly more clearly:

"hel...p..."

... Help...? A cry of distress? Gyrfalcon turns towards the left-hand pathway of the T-junction from where the sound seems to be coming. He had no other leads to the Pool in the enormous Temple, and someone seemed to be in need of aid...

"...he...lp..."

Marching towards the source of the sound and slowly reaching for the hilt of his enchanted blade should he need it, Gyrfalcon begins to recognize the voice as he grows closer to it. It was a voice that had often annoyed him, a voice that he had come to hate and always associated with trouble...

Reyn's voice.

-----

Elsewhere, in a tiny and extremely dark tunnel, Myth and Kaleyra continue to follow the passage of the secret entrance they had found, forced to crawl on all fours in order to fit into it and having no idea where they're headed. They had been crawling for quite some time, and Kaleyra was rapidly growing tired from the trek... Myth didn't feel particularly comfortable in the tiny space either...

"Are you sure this is going to lead us anywhere...?" growls the assassin to her associate. "We've been crawling for a while now and haven't come across anything... hell, it's a miracle we can even still breath in this tiny passage..."

"It's not a miracle." responds Kaleyra, panting for breath as she follows behind her companion. "I'm certain that the clans designed this passage in a manner that allows air to circulate... after all, it's supposed to be an escape route."

The two suddenly stop their chatting as they notice a faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally, an entrance to the Temple's interior.

-----

"help... m... e..."

Gyrfalcon stops briefly at the open arched entrance of the chamber at the end of the passage, where the sound is coming from. Taking a deep breath and making sure he has a firm grip on the hilt of his katana, the half-elven hero carefully steps into the room...

Brushing aside a few cobwebs, Gyrfalcon notices that the chamber is lined with majestic pillars that reach to the ceiling and have numerous runes engraved on them... A giant cross hangs on the wall on the far end of the room, an object that had been used countless times for prayer... an object...

"hel..."

Gyrfalcon's eyes suddenly widen in shock in horror as they adjust to the dimness of the room and notice the figure attached to the cross. As Gyrfalcon suspected, it was Reyn. He had been crucified. The vibrant colors that once marked the mischevous thief's face and chest were now replaced with a deathly paleness, the blood flowing freely from his nailed hands and feet. On Reyn's bare chest there was also carved a strange symbol of some sort, from which blood also flowed in large amounts...

Gyrfalcon suddenly breaks from the horrific sight as Reyn's face glances past him and twitches into a final grimace. Taking the former-thief's facial expression as a warning sign, the half elf warrior quickly unseaths his blade and turns just in time to parry a blow from Kraisis the paladin. Glaring at Gyrfalcon angrily, the paladin locks swords with him and growls:

"By my lost love and my left eye... you shall suffer a similar fate!"

Gyrfalcon · August 16, 2003

Gyrfalcon's arms numbed slightly as he blocked the dark paladin's massive blow. Behind him, Reyn's breath rattled in his throat as his spirit flew free of its mortal prison.

Gyrfalcon retreated in perfect balance, getting distance from the knight, but his thoughts were not on the knight in front of him, but on the pitiful wretch behind him.

Ever since they had first met, Reyn had dogged Gyrfalcon's steps, looking to make a quick buck. Associating with those both violent and evil, Reyn had never really been either. An opportunist, certainly. Reyn was willing to stretch his morals for enough money, but he was... or had not been... a soul stained black by any stretch of the word.

One of those monsters advanced now upon Gyrfalcon. The half-elf looked up, and Kraisis paused momentarily at the grief in the half-elf's eyes. Grief that was replaced with a burning rage. Gyrfalcon's face froze into a determined expression as he started towards Kraisis.

"Anti-paladin..." Gyrfalcon snarled, and Kraisis flushed with the insult. "For your crimes, the gods will judge you... prepare yourself to meet them!"

Gyrfalcon charged, his katana cutting arcs through the air, ringing from Kraisis's sword as the warrior blocked the blow and countered. Gyrfalcon parried, and the two fought in circles, trading blows that sparked on chainmail and steel studs, but most often on steel blades.. After long moments, the two stepped back, their weapons held ready.

A wary respect had entered both sets of eyes, and Gyrfalcon forced his rage to the side to regard the fallen knight with cool, dispassionate eyes. In contrast, even as the half-elf calmed to a state of frozen serenity balanced on the edge of a sword, the fallen knight grew steadily more angry. Raising his sword, the knight snarled an oath, then charged, shouting "For Celestia!"

Gyrfalcon stepped forward before spinning out of the knight's path and guiding the sword away from his body. His counter was weak and clanged off of the knight's chainmail, but it served to sting the dark paladin's pride. "For all those you and your companions murdered. Father Andrews... even Reyn..." Their blades sparked and wove as they struck and parried, countered and riposted. Breaths came hard as they locked blades and stood face to face. Gyrfalcon locked his eyes with Kraisis's one good one. "Can you hear their voices when you sleep, paladin?" the half-elf whispered. Kraisis snarled and thrust Gyrfalcon away with his greater strength.. Yet as Gyrfalcon set himself, he saw a momentary look on the fallen paladin's face, perhaps a shadow of guilt. But Kraisis's face hardened again. "You stand in the way of destiny, fool." the one-eyed man snarled.

Gyrfalcon sighed quietly as he looked at the paladin's eye, and saw the eye of a fanatic. There could be no redemption for this fallen paladin. Without words, Kraisis struck.

"So be it. May the gods judge you mercifully." Gyrfalcon said, meeting the knight's slash and turning it. Their blades rang as the half-elven blademaster and the paladin who had trained all his life for battle fought. Both bled from small wounds, but neither was willing to yield. Both knew that the first mistake would be the fighter's last.

The two fighters began to gasp for breath, and sweat poured down their faces. Gaps began to open in their defenses, but neither had the strength or speed to exploit these gaps before they closed again. Then Kraisis arced a heavy slash, and the half-elf's block was a moment too slow. Gyrfalcon cried out as the blade slashed sparked off studs and slashed through leather, cutting a gash across his upper right arm. Kraisis panted, his sword in a weak guard, but he knew the half-elf could not counter.

Gyrfalcon stepped back and clutched at his wound, his katana's hilt pressed hard against bleeding flesh, a bar of agony laid across a stripe of pain.

Kraisis stepped forward, sword raised. "Your death shall avenge that of my lost love!" he said, swinging the sword back farther, intending to end the life of his enemy in one crashing blow.

Gyrfalcon stepped forward, and Kraisis stiffened as the half-elf's sharp blade pierced chainmail and leather, and the flesh underneath.

"May the gods judge you mercifully." Gyrfalcon said as the fallen paladin's sword fell from his hands to ring against stone, unheard by its owner. Kraisis stared ahead blankly, and sighed as he slid from Gyrfalcon's katana to the cold stone floor. "My love... there you... are..." he whispered with his last breath.

Gyrfalcon slumped against a nearby wall and panted for breath. Wearily, he cleaned his blade and sheathed it, then set about binding his arm. It took a few tries, but he managed to finally secure the knot on the bandage to his satisfaction. Testing his arm, he grimaced in pain. At least I'm left-handed. he thought grimly. Walking past Kraisis' body, He spent a few moments freeing Reyn from the cross he had been crucified on. The half-elf spent a few moments arranging Reyn in a position of repose, wishing that he was a cleric, to remove the bloody symbols that had been carved on Reyn's chest. They were familiar... but the language and meaning eluded the half-elf. He sighed and closed the mercenary's eyes.

Rising, the half-elf started to walk back Kraisis, but paused. "I don't have time for this." he argued with his conscious, but he bent down and closed the paladin's eyes anyway. Anything more would have to wait. The half-elf stumbled from the hall, and searched the floor near the entrance. Sure enough, the way he had come was marked by four sets of feet, one being dragged... but the corridor leading away, had only one set of tracks.

Gyrfalcon rose and had to wait a moment to let the dizziness fade. Shaking his head, he trotted forward, letting his enemy lead the way for him. He just hoped that Jagon didn't have too much of a lead yet.

Wyvern · September 14, 2003

Elsewhere, directly outside of the Temple of Isaiis, Timothy and Elena continue to frantically defend against the seemingly endless hordes of determined zombies approaching...

"Damn it all!" cries Timothy, gritting his teeth as he lances his blade into a zombies left eye while elbowing another in the face. "There's no end to them! Elena, we need to retreat into the Temple!!!"

Timothy recieves no response from Elena, however, as she is too caught up in the heat of battle to hear his words. Striking down several zombies at once and grimacing as she turns to counter another blow, the most Elena can manage to utter is another battle cry.

"We can't keep it up like this, do you hear me?!!!" screams Timothy, his voice getting hoarse from shouting and his arms growing weary from the continous combat. "Elena?!!!"

Elena lets out a war cry as she swings her staff to crack open a rotten skull. She is about to turn and face yet another of the mindless creatures when suddenly, she notices the features of a particular zombie and can only stop in sudden shock. Elena recognized the figure even in his current deformity... it was Fruu, a friend of Jakob's at the monestary.

"Elena??!!!!"

Elena catches the sound of Timothy's voice just as the zombie that had previously been Fruu stabs a piece of a broken pole directly into the center of her chest. The island guardian grimaces, clutching at the pole in a mixture of pain and fury as she gasps.

Timothy has time to catch a glimpse of Elena's current situation between parrying the blows of two zombies, and immediatly tries to break free from his deadlock to rush to her aid. Unfortunatly, he fails to do so and is instead knocked over by the blow of a zombie behind him... The creature lifts the large hammer it's holding, prepared to deal a final blow to the helpless historian...

But then, suddenly, it all comes to a standstill.

The zombies cease to advance, dropping their weapons as their eyes grow dimmer in their whiteness. With Kraisis fallen, the strength Celestia had imbued in her minions now passed out of their lifeless shells, their power being connected to her lover's own. One by one the creatures fall back into the heaps of carcasses they truly are, never to move again...

Lifting himself from the ground in pain and practically tripping over a corpse in his dizziness, Timothy has no time to celebrate the unexpected victory as he rushes towards his wounded companion...

"Elena! Are you hurt?! How bad is it?!"

Elena grimaces and twitches in pain, her hands still firmly grasping the pole embedded in her chest. Mustering what strength and durability remains in her, the island guardian slowly pulls the pole out of her body, screaming in pain as she does so. As she drops the pole by her feet and collapses next to a wall of the Temple, Timothy immediatly rushes to her aid and begins searching for ways to bandage her wounds.

"Don't worry, Elena..." mutters Timothy gravely as he tightens a piece of cloth around her wound. "This should stop the blood flow, you should be fine..."

"I-" starts Elena, an expression of confusion and sorrow clearly present in her eyes. "He-"

"I wouldn't talk..." says Timothy softly. "Save your strength..."

"The zombie-" continues Elena. "I-"

Timothy is shocked to hear Elena's voice crack as she says this... It was a voice that he had come to associate with adamant will, and he hardly recognized as it was...

"I-it's-" manages Elena through sobs "... so horrible..."

As tears stream down Elena's cheeks and she falls into sobbing in silence, Timothy stares at the ground and realizes he can offer her no consolation...

Wyvern · September 20, 2003

Meanwhile, within the Temple of Isaiis, Kaleyra and Myth finally arrive at the end of their long trek through the narrow escape tunnel, exiting it and entering into a very small, confined room made of finely carved stone. Hundreds of strange and obscure symbols completely cover the walls of the chamber, and Kaleyra barely has time to stretch her legs before turning towards the walls and running her fingers over the strange designs in fascination...

Myth, who had grown rather tired of ancient enscriptures at this point, sighs and mutters:

"We don't have any time for looking over pictures now, Bird Lady... we need to find the Pool, remember?"

The assassin grumbles something under her breath as she scans the tiny chamber in it's entirety, adding:

"I don't see any doorways either... great, this is probably just some place people went to hide out in. So much for our plan..."

"It can't be..." notes Kaleyra while still examining a line of writing in amazement. "The symbols on the outdoor escape route entrance clearly depicted it leading into the Temple, as do the symbols here..."

Myth sighs and shakes her head, rapidly growing tired of the avian scholar's obsession with ancient culture and wishing she could just find the damn Pool and get off the island. Slumping against the nearest wall in the hopes of resting for a moment, the assassin accidentally triggers a mechanism hidden there. Much to the pleasant surprise of the two adventurers, the wall that Kaleyra is examining slowly shifts open to reveal another, much larger chamber...

Myth and Kaleyra both step into the enormous room and examine it for a moment, intaking it's majestic appearence. The high domed ceiling of the room seemed to be largely made of stained glass, on which many beautiful pictures of angels holding wine goblets were depicted. At the center of the large circular span of the room there is a hole in the ground around which several symbols have been written. Directly above the hole rests a statue of a singing angel, and a ladder extends from the angel's hands down into the depths of the hole. Two open passageways also connect into the room from the East and West ends of the chamber, and Myth immediatly notices a set of footprints from the West end leading up to the ladder, where they stop.

"Damn it..." growls Myth while rushing towards the ladder in the center of the room and yelling towards Kaleyra. "Come on, let's hurry! Looks like someone may have beat us to it!"

Kaleyra stands startled for a moment, still uncertain if what she's doing is the right thing... Hesitating and then beginning to run after Myth, the avian scholar comes to a sudden stop as she notices a figure arriving at the passageway opening of the West end of the room...

Gyrfalcon, who had just arrived in the room and caught Kaleyra's attention, suddenly notices the avian scholar.

The two adventurers simply stare at each other from across the room in silence for a long moment...

Ozymandias · September 22, 2003

Timothy sits in numb silence for what feels like a lifetime with Elena cradled gently in his arms. He gazes at the droves of corpses ringing them round like some demonic may festivitiy, her words the only sound in his head. ...so horrible...

Tears, the first in nearly a decade, flow freely down his cheeks. Not wishing the dying woman to see, his quickly wipes blood and water away from his face, as he continues to cry a trail of cleansing down one cheek, and red down the other, from his ruined left eye; it had been lost, he realized, when one of the creatures had clawed his face.

I hadn't even noticed, he thought with grim humor. Elena stirred again, and he pushed the pain from his face. Instead, he smiled softly down at her.

"I'm here. I'll stay with you," he whispered hoarsely.

Yui-chan · September 25, 2003

"Gyrfalcon!" The Avian smiled as she spoke his name, her feet carrying her towards him of their own accord for a few steps before her logical mind caught up with her, reminding her that he may very well not be glad to see her. Still a few yards away, she slowed to a halt, watching him uncertainly.

The half-elf stepped from the shadows, a bloodied hand holding his right arm tight against his side, and met her gaze. "Kaleyra," he intoned, his voice neither cold nor warm, but only... tired. In his eyes, pain, grief, rage and doubt warred with the relief he felt at finding the warm-hearted scholar alive and well, and he stood just as uncertainly as she - too wary of her recent actions to approach but too trusting of his belief in her character to consider her an enemy.

After a heartbeat's pause, his trust was borne out as he watched the winged woman's sky-blue eyes travel the length of him, darkening with worry. He looked a sight, half-dried blood darkening his hand and arm, his hair plastered to his forehead with perspiration. The colored light streaming down from the stained-glass dome above them did nothing to hide the pallor of his skin or the sharp lines of strain around his eyes. Without another doubt, Kaleyra closed the distance between them, stricken by the many kinds of hurt she could see in the man she had come to consider a friend. "You are injured. Here, let me –"

"No," he interrupted, gently brushing her hand away as she reached towards him, "There's no time for that. The leader of the church-burners, Jagon, is ahead of me. I can't let him reach the Pool."

"You cannot do anything effective to dissuade him if you are passed out on the floor from loss of blood," she responded, her eyes and hands firm. In a deft motion, she ripped a wide swath of fabric from the bottom of her faded tunic and gently lifted Gyrfalcon's left hand away from his wound to bind it. "Give me ten seconds, and I will buy you an hour..." Her words were a mumble as she concentrated on her ministrations.

Left with little choice against her moment of stubbornness and her impeccable logic, the half-elf watched the top of her blonde head as she bent close to him, his thoughts swirling chaotically. So much had happened. So much was ahead of them, and in the midst of it all, he was left with a lot of troubling memories and unanswered questions. The proud warrior resisted the irrational urge to pull his companion closer in a proper hug, to steal a moment of comfort from a friend.

"Kaleyra?" he muttered, frowning.

"Hm?" She didn't pause in her care, carefully working the torn ends of the cloth into a secure knot.

"Why did you leave?"

The worry and... maybe hurt? ... in his voice made her hands freeze in the act of snugging the knot, but he couldn't see her eyes to determine exactly what she was thinking. He could only watch her shoulders sag and her wings droop as the strong woman he'd glimpsed retreat back into the meek scholar. "I ... I ..." She struggled with herself, both in finding the words and in forcing them past her lips and, more, her worries. Would he understand, or would he hate her as Myth had predicted?

In the end, she took the coward's route and raised her head to glance down the hallway behind him. "Where are Timothy and Elena?"

It was the right question to ask, and Gyrfalcon stiffened, then slumped as he winced at the situation he'd tried to set behind him for the moment. "They... stayed at the entrance to the Temple, fighting the zombies to give me time to get in here and stop the others."

Kaleyra stared at him, horror in her eyes. She could still see Gyrfalcon and Timothy slashing away at a seemingly endless horde of rotting undead, and the memory chilled her. "Are they..." She didn't want to finish the sentence, didn't want to think of brave Timothy or even Elena lying dead in the jungle outside.

But Gyrfalcon could offer little more than a commiserative look and a quietly muttered, "I... don't know, Kaleyra. I hope not, but..." He, too, didn't want to finish his sentence, to voice how hopeless the odds looked when he left. Instead, he tilted his head towards the ladder disappearing down the center of the room. "Come on. We've got a rogue monk to stop."

Blinking back the moisture in her eyes, the winged scholar simply nodded, burying fears that matched his.

As Gyrfalcon moved to step around her, another thought occurred to him, and his brow furrowed. "Where's Myth?" he asked, scanning the chamber around them.

"Myth? Oh, she's right th-" The scholar's mouth snapped shut the moment she turned, finding the room filled with nothing but colored light and shadows. Myth was gone. Kaleyra blinked, surprised that the assassin would have left them. "She must have gone down after Jagon."

"Hvechlagh!" Gyr cursed, the dwarvish rolling like a thunderstorm off his tongue. He broke into a run towards the ladder. "Hurry, Kaleyra. I don't trust her down there alone."

The scholar tucked her wings and hurried after him, but her brow furrowed in confusion. She held her tongue until they'd both reached the bottom of the ladder and were staring along the length of a wide, round tunnel beneath the chamber's floor. Faint illumination flickered from widely-spaced torches burning off in the distance.

"I still don't comprehend why everyone is in such an excessive rush. There is nothing in the texts to suggest that there is any limit as to the number of individuals who can use the Pool to gain enlightenment, after all, so why do we care whether others get there first?"

The half-elf stopped in his tracks, turning in the dark to regard his shadowed companion with a puzzle frown. It was probably the first time she'd displayed anything akin to an unintelligent thought. "You've seen what Jagon and his cohorts are willing to do. Whatever they want the Pool for, it can't be good, and we can't trust them to achieve their goals. And Myth...? I don't know what she wants the Pool for, but more, I want to save her life. Did you even tell her what the Pool really does?"

Kaleyra blinked at him, her head tilted in a manner that reminded him very much of the hawk she resembled. "Well... no. I failed to mention the lies Elena told us, if that is your meaning." She shrugged, walking past him down the tunnel so that he couldn't see her eyes cloud with remaining doubt. "There is no need to propagate su-"

"They're not lies, Kaleyra," he frowned, hurrying to catch up with her. His strong hand latched onto her upper arm, firmly but gently drawing her to a stop. She turned to look up at him, confusion mingling with surprise in her eyes. "You can't really believe that."

"Of course I do!" the scholar shot back, her chin raising stubbornly. "There is absolutely no logical reason to believe the half-desperate guardian of this island over a millennium and more of documentation and study. None!"

She weakly tried to pull away from the ranger's grip, but he held firm. In her eyes was a world of doubt and fear barely masked by an anger fueled mostly by desperation. He recalled the story she'd told long ago in Father Derick's study, the moments of quiet contemplation he'd seen in her over the past few weeks, and suddenly it all clicked into place. She couldn't believe Elena because she couldn't believe that this quest would fail. He'd never realized how utterly the search for the Pool consumed her, defined her, and how much pressure she'd put herself under to succeed. She believed that without the Pool her race would die, and she would be at fault. Whether Elena was right or not, Kaleyra would never allow herself to believe in anything but the fragile hope of success. Gyrfalcon shook his head, suddenly understanding so much more about the young woman before him.

"Logic doesn't really rule this world, Kal," he said, softening both his tone and his expression. "An immortal lifetime has taught me that one lesson above all others. It's also taught me that there's always another solution, another path that'll take you where you need to go. You can find another way to save your people; you don't have to risk throwing your life away on the Pool of Eternal Reflection."

The avian's eyes filled as she stared up at him, but she shook her head, blinking back the tears. "I cannot do anything else, Gyrfalcon. My people, my city, will not persist long enough for me to find a new quest. They are too close to extinction as it stands." Again, she tried to pull her arm from his grip, and again he held tight, not letting her go. "I will have my answers from the Pool, and when I survive, I will prove Elena's fears wrong."

The ranger gazed at her, willing her to see the folly of it all, to change her mind, but all he saw was a woman enveloped in a wall of stubborn intent and dedication. If she reached the Pool, she would throw her life away on her misguided hopes, and nothing he said would dissuade her. There was only one way to keep the scholar alive, and though she would hate it, he decided that he would rather live with her hatred than watch her die for nothing like Reyn, Y'tren, and all of the innocents who'd burned with the church.

Steeling himself, he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a length of rope. Kaleyra watched, puzzled but still held tight. When he slipped his grip down from her shoulder to her wrist, she gasped, yanking futilely against the steel of his swordsman's muscles. "W-what are you doing?!" She followed the rope with wide eyes as he brought it close to her captured arm.

"I'm preventing you from committing suicide," he intoned, his eyes never straying from the rope so that she couldn't see the sorrow in them as he started to wind it around her wrist. "I'm sorry." he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"You cannot stop me! You'll destroy my entire race!" The winged woman struggled in earnest now, her powerful wings flapping in an attempt to help her pull free. When Gyrfalcon stepped closer to hold her more tightly, he received a sharp rap to the forehead with a feathered cudgel for his troubles. He stepped back, wincing as spots danced before his eyes, but his training let him hold on to his quarry despite the surprise. He cursed himself for underestimating the strength of her wings, but he knew how best to incapacitate a bird.

With a quick thrust of his free hand against her chest, the half-elf shoved Kaleyra against the smooth stone of the tunnel, leaning his body against hers to pin her wings between her back and the wall. Now she was truly overpowered, her weak arms no competition for his weight or his strength. After a few moments, it was clear even to her, and she stilled, breathing hard against the dusty leather of his armored shoulder.

"Please, don't do this," Kaleyra pleaded. He could feel her shaking, but he didn't dare pull away or look down to see what she was thinking; his head was still ringing from the last blow she'd dealt him. He also wasn't sure his resolve could survive what he suspected he'd see in those expressive eyes of hers. Instead, he simply paused, giving her a moment to calm herself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again as he pulled her hands together between them, "When this is over, I'll help you save your people some other way. I promise."

The scholar drooped against him for a minute, letting her forehead rest against his collarbone. It was a strange moment, really, with the two of them so close physically but at such odds emotionally, and the irony of it all was not lost on either of them. Kaleyra sighed before she lifted her head again, meeting her friend's eyes in the darkness.

"It is a kind offer, Gyrfalcon, but I will not need it." The soft words were followed by a sensation like no other he'd felt before, and the half-elf staggered backwards under the pressure of another set of thoughts behind his eyes. There was no chance to react, no time to do more than wonder what was happening to him, before a clinging weight dropped over his mind like a heavy blanket and sucked him down into darkness.

Kaleyra darted forward and caught the half-elf before he could hit the hard tunnel floor, staggering under the dead weight of his body until she managed to prop him gently against the wall of the tunnel. For a moment, she knelt on the ground beside him and looked him over, worried sick that she had not been gentle enough, that her psionic attack might have truly hurt him, but a quick brush of her mind against his reassured her that he was simply unconscious, safely on the edge of a dream. She hoped it was a pleasant one.

Her smile was weak and as watery as the tears that welled in her eyes.

"I am sorry that I could not let you succeed," she whispered, lifting a hand to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. She let her gaze linger after her hand had dropped once more to her side, watching Gyrfalcon's peaceful face and wishing that she could have seen him so carefree more often during their quest. Perhaps, after ... Kaleyra halted the thought before it could fully form and leaned down to press her lips gently to his cheek.

"May your gods protect you." The words were a breath against his ear before she stood and turned away from him, her heart heavy. There was no time for regret. She had a duty to perform...

Kaleyra d'Avie broke into a run as she left her unconscious companion behind her and very carefully focused her mind on one thought: For better or worse, soon the quest would be over.

Gwaihir · September 26, 2003

Myth groaned to herself as she realized that yet again the Avian was not following the way she was supposed to. Normally she wouldn't care, but Myth wasn't about to be the first one to go near the special water No one in Myth's normal company would behave the way this annoying bird did. It was a wodner the bird was still alive.

Myth grimaced to herself and turned back to find the lost dopey lady. She was probably off rubbing on some new inscription.

It only took a few backwards steps before Myth stopped, however. There were two voices and the other one was clearly Gyrfalcon's. What were they talking about? She paused, because it was wiser to find out what they were talking about before she barged in.

"Why did you leave?" the mixed blood was asking

This was worth hearing--the assassin froze to the wall.

A few moments later Myth laughed to herself. No surprise that Gyrfalcon didn't trust her. Anyone with his morals would have to be dumb to do so. She turned and began walking back towards the two--Best to act as if she had been coming back to get them instead of listening.

But then she stopped again, because they began to speak again, in fact they began quarrelling.

But what was this? Somethign she didn't know? Well that had to be handled. The next person who came around the corner would tell her what was happening.

As she heard the sounds of struggle, Myth rolled her eyes. Both of these two t hought they were more civilized than she, Myth was, but they fought each other! No assassin would EVER do that!!

Yes, it sounded as if Gyrfalcon was winning...naturally.

Then they began to whisper so Myth crept near enough that she was right by the door.

"I am sorry that I could not let you succeed," she heard Kaleyra say...what was this? Had the avian actually managed to stop the magic using swordsman? Myth made a mental note to have more respect for that funny looking bird.

There were running feet and it sounded as if Kal were coming. Quickly Myth ran into the doorway "Oh THERE you are. I had to come all the way back for ....What happened to him?"

Wyvern · September 27, 2003

Kaleyra strides past Myth swiftly, barely hearing the assassin's words as the adamant determination present on her visage hardens. Suddenly stopping in her steps and reluctantly glancing over her shoulder at the inert form of Gyrfalcon, the avian scholar turns her eyes towards Myth and quietly mutters:

"He... needed some rest..."

Myth raises a brow curiously at this statement, further intrigued as she notices the tint of Kaleyra's eyes... There was now a deep sadness present in them... perhaps even a hint of despair...

"He'll be safe here." continues Kaleyra, her voice now far more firm and ringing with determination. Turning towards the opening at the end of the tunnel and dashing towards it before Myth can so much as speak, the scholar exclaims:

"We'll secure the Pool and then immediatly return for him, let's hurry!"

Myth is once again shocked by the avian's will and air of determination, offended that the scholar should suddenly take charge of the situation yet never the less respecting her more by the minute. Quickly nodding, the assassin follows Kaleyra and sprints towards the end of the passage...

Arriving at the open gateway where the underground passageway cuts off, the two heros are somewhat surprised as they enter into an enormous rocky cavern. There are no statues, no symbols, no carved pillars or domed ceilings... Instead, the chamber is a gargantuan cave, a place untouched by mankind's industrial hand. Huge stalactites hang from the ceiling, menacingly glaring down at the uneven rocky floor below. From the far end of the room, Kaleyra and Myth catch sight of a single civilized-looking structure, their eyes brightening as they see it... It was a rock formation that had been carved into what appeared to be the shape of a well. Above it, a droplet of water falls from a stalactite and silently hits the pool present below... The Pool of Eternal Reflection.

Kaleyra breaks into a grin and happily exclaims:

"We've found it... the Pool!"

Running towards the well and almost tripping over the rocky ground in the process, the avian scholar stops half-way through the chamber as she suddenly notices that Myth is not following her and is staring at something by the rock formation. Following the assassin's line of sight, Kaleyra suddenly notices a detail that deals a devastating blow to her already deteriorated hopes... Surrounding the edges of the well of the Pool lie the bones of several aged skeletons...

"Surprised...?" chimes a familiar, charismatic voice from the opposite end of the chamber.

Both Kaleyra and Myth immediatly turn towards the source of the voice, only to be met by a figure they immediatly recognized... A handsome man cloaked in a black monk robe and wearing a yellow bandana...

Jagon.

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

"I'm here, it's alright..." continues Timothy at the outer walls of the Temple, stroking one hand through the back of Elena's hair and holding her tightly as he let his tunic soak in her tears. "I'll stay here with you..."

A long moment passes in which neither adventurer speaks, the two of them almost relishing the connection brought about by their interchange of agony. Finally, Elena lifts her face from Timothy's chest and directs her bloodshot eyes towards his... She stares at him for a long moment before softly responding:

"No..."

Timothy stares back in a mixture of sympathy and confusion and responds:

"What...?"

"Your friends..." continues Elena meekly "... your companions are counting on you. You should join them, fight alongside them against the greater evil."

"But Elena-"

"I'll be here..." she interrupts "... alive when you get back. I promise. Now go, please..."

Timothy stares at Elena for a long moment, then reluctantly nods and lifts himself from where she lies, adjusting his scabbard and making sure his sword is fully secured in it. The brave historian's left eye was beginning to sting a bit, but frankly he didn't care. It seemed so insignificant when placed in context of the grander scheme of things...

"Timothy..." mutters Elena softly as he turns to towards the Temple entrance. "... one last thing."

"Yes...?"

"Please come back... return. For me."

Timothy silently nods and wipes the remaining grime and tears from his face, gritting his teeth as he musters all of his strength and dashes into the Temple, swiftly following the footprints of Gyrfalcon...

-----------

"I must say that I'm slightly disappointed..." continues Jagon in his soothing voice while eyeing both Kaleyra and Myth in the cavern chamber. "I would have thought that experienced scholars and heros such as yourselves might resist the temptation of the Pool, the sense of unreachable security and comfort it brings, the ideal notion of the insurmountable truth one can kind find within. I suppose that in the end, you are all alike, no different than the men and women who's bones now litter these premises..."

Kaleyra frowns and stares at Jagon with a hint of anger present on her visage, the words "security" and "comfort" leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Speaking up, she responds:

"We are here to secure the Pool from your grasp, Jagon... now step away."

Myth nods to this, pacing forward to join Kaleyra while placing a hand on the hilt of her dagger.

"'Secure' the Pool?" responds Jagon, a grin making it's way across his face. The cloaked scholar's aura of charm is momentarily shattered as he lets out a laugh that echoes throughout the chamber. Though not forced, Jagon's laughter is the polar opposite of the soothing nature of his speech, echoing hollowly and leaving the adventurers with a feeling of discomfort. There was no joviality, no peace in that laugh.

"If only you realized the irony of what you've just said..." chimes Jagon in a semi-whisper, his right hand slowly reaching through the back of his hair towards the knot of his yellow bandana. "... the Pool is least secure when placed in the hands of humans."

With that, the knot holding Jagon's yellow bandana on his forehead becomes completely undone. The headscarf quietly drops to the floor, revealing the "religious scholar"'s visage in it's entirety... Kaleyra gasps and takes a step back while Myth's eyes slowly widen...

On Jagon's forehead there rests a third eye, currently shut. The closed eyelid throbs slightly, beating in accordance with Jagon's heart...

"A demon...?" manages Kaleyra softly.

Upon hearing the avian scholar's reaction, Jagon laughs once again, louder and harder then before. Whereas the first laugh had caused a feeling of discomfort, this one emanated an aura of fear. The hollow echoes seemed to suggest a man on the brink of insanity, and the noise slightly stinged the adventurers' ears...

"The irony is quite overwhelming..." responds Jagon in a slightly less charming manner than before "... that you should be so close to the truth, yet still so far from it! The tragic fault of humankind, is it not? Well..."

Jagon pauses for a moment, a confident smile making it's way across his face as he looks towards Kaleyra, then Myth.

"You came for clarity, thus I shall shed it's light upon you."

With that, the two adventurers jump back as Jagon's third eye flicks open, causing the chamber to suddenly become immersed in a blinding light. Kaleyra and Myth fall over and clutch their eyes in pain as the light flares in the room and throughout the passageway leading to it, brightening even the room with the stained glass domed ceiling and causing it to radiate beautiful colors. After a long moment, the light passes and the two adventurers squint and fidget in their positions, noticing that the familiar figure of Jagon is no more...

Where Jagon once stood now stands a majestic figure, bathed in divine radiance and unspeakable beauty. A shining armor of purest gold and silver adorns his firm chest, a platinum cross embedded on it's front plate. Six enormous angelic wings sprout from his back, three on each side, their feathers white as the Heavens themselves. The third eye on his forehead radiates and shines like a morning star, never shutting... forever gazing into the vastness of eternity. Above his head of fine silver hair burns a dim circular light.. a halo.

"I-" manages Kaleyra meekly from her position, not mustering the appropriate words to say as she stares at the divine figure.

Myth doesn't move or speak, her eyes locked on the figure's appearence...

"I am Jagon." booms the seraphim in a regal voice, spreading his wings broadly so that they are clearly seen. "Arriving here has been part of my destiny, a destiny that has nearly been fufilled. I was sent from the farest reaches of the Heavens with a mission... to view the current state of humankind and to bring back news of it's progress."

He pauses, silent for a moment before continuing:

"However, I have been disgusted to find nothing here but false idols, greed and selfishness. I decided to take matters into my own hands, to judge humanity for the corruption it has caused... I have found only one cure for this: humankind's ultimate destruction."

Jagon smiles and waves one hand through the air.

"This 'Pool' which you seek, this 'bringer of life' is in fact nothing more than a grave. Centuries ago, in the early years of humankind's existance, the great sea beast Leviathan laid waste to cultures and civilizations, eliminating everything in it's monstrous path. Here is where it rests in eternal sleep."

An expression of shock enters onto Kaleyra's face as she suddenly recalls the fate of the majority of her race, engulfed by a "tsunami" caused by oscillations on the ocean's floor...

"I have come to awaken him..." continues Jagon "To restart the process of elimination and lay waste to humanity. You and your kind are doomed... May I suggest using your last moments on this Earth for prayer."

"No way..." responds Myth suddenly, lifting herself to her feet and glaring at the seraphim. "I'm not about to let humanity die off... I haven't been paid yet."

"We can't allow such a monster to be ressurected..." growls Kaleyra as she too stands up. "Angel or not, you have no right to unleash such a fate on the world..."

Jagon stares at the two heros in a mixture of anger and amusement, stating:

"I am no mere angel, I am a seraphim... a second-hand to only the most powerful of deities. Am I to understand that you wish to face me? Absurd..."

"Not so absurd when you don't see us backing down, is it?" responds Myth while drawing one of her daggers and glaring at him.

An awkward moment of silence passes...

"Fools!" finally booms Jagon, his voice now ringing with anger. "You cannot stop what destiny has dictated! If you wish to waste your lives and be the first to fall, then so be it! Behold!"

With that, the seraphim raises his right hand to the sky and energy suddenly begins filtering into it. Slowly, a sword of light materializes into his hand.

"Gaspoliner, the sword of faith itself! Pray you petty creatures, for these breaths shall be your last..."

Gyrfalcon · October 7, 2003

Gyrfalcon felt all the world fall in on him, and as he sagged to the floor, he felt his eyes inexorably close, despite his mental protests. As he slipped into a dream of New Muriska, he thought he could hear a whisper on the morning breeze. "I'm sorry I could not let you succeed."

He drifted deeper into his dream, striding the walls of New Muriska. The weeks and months had been peaceful since he had decided not to journey after that strange rumor of a Well of Eternal Reflection, and Gyrfalcon smiled and chuckled to himself, remembering how concerned, even obsessed with the idea he had been. Gyrfalcon stopped suddenly as a guardsman looking out over the southern marches dropped his pike, his face sheet white inside his helmet. Gyrfalcon whirled to see what the man was staring at, and the rushing light consumed them both.

Gyrfalcon woke with a start, as a ringing voice echoed down the corridor.

"I am Jagon. Arriving here has been part of my destiny, a destiny that has nearly been fulfilled. I was sent from the farthest reaches of the Heavens with a mission... to view the current state of humankind and to bring back news of its progress."

Gyrfalcon forced himself to his feet, shaking off the last remnants of his forced nap and checked to make sure he still had his blade. Surprisingly, it was still in its scabbard, and Gyrfalcon forced himself down the corridor, one foot at a time.

"However, I have been disgusted to find nothing here but false idols, greed and selfishness. I decided to take matters into my own hands, to judge humanity for the corruption it has caused... I have found only one cure for this: humankind's ultimate destruction."

Gyrfalcon forced himself to move faster, feeling his blood begin to surge more quickly as adrenaline and anger flooded through him. No one, and he meant no one was going to destroy his city without getting through him!

"This 'Pool' which you seek, this 'bringer of life' is in fact nothing more than a grave. Centuries ago, in the early years of humankind's existence, the great sea beast Leviathan laid waste to cultures and civilizations, eliminating everything in it's monstrous path. Here is where it rests in eternal sleep. I have come to awaken him, to restart the process of elimination and lay waste to humanity. You and your kind are doomed... May I suggest using your last moments on this Earth for prayer?"

Gyrfalcon unsheathed his katana and growled. "Jagon, I think I'm going to be a little guilty later on about how much I'll enjoy killing you." He breathed easily as he ran, but the end of the corridor still wasn't in sight.

"I am no mere angel, I am a seraphim... a second-hand to only the most powerful of deities. Am I to understand that you wish to face me? Absurd..." The voice said, its powerful tones puzzled. Gyrfalcon paused for a second, but then he picked up speed again. Jagon wanted to destroy the world. Against that, it mattered not if he was angel or devil.

Gyrfalcon saw the end of the corridor and tried to run faster.

"Not so absurd when you don't see us backing down, is it?" He heard Myth say, her voice quietly cold.

"Fools!" Jagon's voice boomed, his voice now ringing with anger. "You cannot stop what destiny has dictated! If you wish to waste your lives and be the first to fall, then so be it! Behold! Gaspoliner, the sword of faith itself! Pray you petty creatures, for these breaths shall be your last..."

Jagon darted forward, and Myth agilely rolled out of the way. Kaleyra, never trained as a fighter, looked up with wide eyes as Gaspoliner swung back, then forward, its fatal arc descending to end her life.

Gyrfalcon slid desperately, his momentum too great to allow a perfect block. He settled for deflection, Gaspoliner scraping down the edge of his keen katana even as he slammed against the seraphim's armored bulk, nearly losing his footing from the impact. The seraphim's sword whistled by Kaleyra, narrowly missing her wing as she flinched back.

Startled, Jagon danced backwards, his flaring wings forcing Myth away as she tried to dart in to stab him. She struck anyway, but the seraphim's feathers turned the blow, leaving only a single incandescently white feather floating down to mark her attempt.

Kaleyra quickly stepped away from the fighters as Jagon and Gyrfalcon squared off, their eyes narrowed. Jagon beat his wings slowly, forcing Myth to back off from her attempts to plant her dagger somewhere painful, and the balance hovered on a single point, suspended between the two sides.

"So you would all pit your might against mine?" Jagon asked, a cold sneer on his face. "Then you shall all die. Make your peace, and prepare to face my Lord in judgment!"

Blade met with blade as the two fighters attacked, but their divine enemy quickly gained the upper hand, forcing Gyrfalcon back with heavy blows, Jagon's wings keeping Myth at bay, especially after one sweep sent her sliding halfway across the room.

Gyrfalcon growled and counter attacked, and the two spun circles as their blades clashed together again and again, Gyrfalcon managing to slip through an ineffectual blow or two that harmlessly slid off of Jagon's breastplate. Their circles ended with Gyrfalcon being backed towards the Pool of Eternal Reflection, Myth once again slipping around behind Jagon.

Kaleyra wrung her hands helplessly, wishing she could do something, anything to help her friends. Then Gyrfalcon's foot came down on a thighbone from an unfortunate victim of the Pool, and he fell.

Myth cursed and Kaleyra cried out as Jagon reversed his grip on Gaspoliner and raised the sword up. "And now you die!" Jagon cried, beginning the thrust straight at Gyrfalcon's unprotected heart.

Kaleyra made a snap decision, not bothering to think of consequences or what was best, not caring if what she did harmed her target. She focused her mind and will on Jagon. And then she unleashed the full force of her will, the will that she had so carefully concealed from her companions.

Jagon staggered as the massive psychic blow smashed his thoughts apart. His thrust wavered and stalled, and Gyrfalcon rolled to his feet, his katana coming across in a cross slash that razed a line of blood across Jagon's forearm. The seraphim blocked the following slash and backed up, shaking his head to no avail as Kaleyra clamped her lips tight and focused her will, hammering against Jagon's mind again and again.

"You... you dare..." the seraphim gasped, a wing batting Myth away from him, but not before she slashed the back of his thigh, leaving only a shallow cut but a cut none the less.

"We dare." Gyrfalcon said grimly. "This is our world, not yours. You shall not destroy it."

Wyvern · October 23, 2003

"You..." continues Jagon, his voice now slightly less majestic and trailing off due to his being lost in the clutter of thoughts brought about by Kaleyra's psionics. Both Gyrfalcon and Myth slash at the seraphim once again from different angles, creating notable dents in his armor and drawing a long line of blood across his left arm. Gyrfalcon grimaces and aims his katana at Jagon's chest, rapidly moving in for what he hopes to be the final blow.

"You insolent fools."

The third eye on Jagon's forehead suddenly flashes in a deep silver light, causing Kaleyra's continual psionic attacks to abruptly twist and deflect back at her. The avian's eyes momentarily flash in a similar hue of silver before she screams and clutches her head in pain, collapsing to the rocky ground of the cavern.

Gyrfalcon's seemingly flawless chest blow is suddenly blocked as Jagon's free arm moves with a supernatural speed and calmness, his hand catching the katana's blade in midswing without the slightest hesitation. Pushing the half elven hero back almost playfully and raising Gaspoliner in the sky, the seraphim swiftly moves forward and arcs the blade so that it slashes down the length of Gyrfalcon's chest in an unpredictable manner. Gyrfalcon cries out in pain and clutches at the glowing wound caused by the Sword of Faith, having no time to recover as Jagon swiftly elbows him in the face and sends him sprawling on the floor.

Myth curses as Jagon turns in enough time to parry her dagger blow, backing away defensively. Swiftly moving towards the assassin, the seraphim grabs her by her left arm and proceeds to stare directly into her scarred face. His three eyes begin glowing simultaneously as a powerful holy magic begins flooding through Myth's body, causing the souls of those that she had previously murdered to sing an unbearable choir in her mind. The cacophony of noise is so great that Myth grits her teeth and clutches her head in pain, falling to her knees as she devotes her energy to fighting the voices.

Jagon smiles to himself calmly as he gazes at the three fallen heroes now laying on the ground, pausing for a moment before adamantly stating:

"My destiny is clear. As I told you all, your efforts are worthless. Never the less, I admire your bravery, and will see to it that you three recieve a respectable position in the afterlife."

With that, the seraphim turns and begins walking towards the Pool of Eternal Reflection, ready to accomplish his ultimate goal of ressurecting Leviathan and put an end to his mission. The three adventurers twist and fidget in their positions on the ground, fighting their pain as best as they can in the hopes of finding some remote possibility of still stopping Jagon, yet discovering only futility and despair.

Jagon has walked halfway across the chamber to the Pool when suddenly, a noise from the hallway leading towards the cavern catches his ear.

Footsteps...?

Ozymandias · October 31, 2003

Timothy slowly followed in friend and enemy's footsteps alike. His fever had begun to rage again, even as he heard the echo of battle meet him in the front hall. Every step a test of will, still he continued, disregarding too the stabbing pain in his chest.

With each step, his vision swam. Still Timothy continued doggedly onward.

Sulette...I may finally have my chance to atone. He passed a now unmoving corpse that was pinned to the wall by a dozen crossbow bolts.

Gyrfalcon...you noble fool...

Gyrfalcon grunts in fury and detrmination even as swinging his sword with all his might has met an equal measure in Jagon's arm and blade. He sweats profusely with the effort, a small corner of his mind idly amused by the fact that he's sweating and that he can't remember the last time he did. The rest is nearly consumed by a righteous wrath for this-this thing that seeks to murder all of his subjects, no all of the world on the pretense of all of them being evil. A sentiment he knew to be a pack of lies. While Gyrfalcon stood, Jagon would not succeed, he silently vowed to all he held dear, those whom had never known, and would never know.

You told me right at the begining that everyone is worth saving... Even in the face of...of...the cold fact that many refuse to be saved, you still insisted...that it did not remove their being worthy of at least the attempt. I never understood why.

Timothy continues his weary trek onward, for what feels like an eternity spent walking through water. He passes several more bodies that have been lacerated, dismembered, burned, and a myriad of other things. Even their sour stink barely registers on his consciousness.

Kaleyra...Sweet, innocent Kal...

Kaleyra narrows her eyes in preparation for what she had hoped to never even hear of a fellow avian doing to another living thing, let alone ever even imagine doing herself. She tore down every mental guard, all blocks, all filters she had to separate her consciousness literally from everyone else's, and did what could be called moving them behind her thoughts and feelings, pushing them out with a devil's speed in a tidal wave- all her anger, frustration, hurt, insecurity, anxiety, depression,

jealousy, all pain, every corrupting thought she had ever known, as well as the echoes of that of every other Avian's, the miasma of a dying race- a titanic battering ram carefully aimed at one target: Jagon. He reeled with the impact, face a mask of pure agony. A scrap of rational thought she had saved for herself cheered. It lasted only a moment.

You search for understanding as relentlessly as a wolverine stalks its prey. Knowledge is of utmost importance to you, and your entire race as well, I'd imagine.

You fe...fe...feel, no...know that there is a reason for everything...You simply have to divine what. Crazy. Timothy smiled wanly to himself, even as he pitched forward, tripping over loose brickwork. He caught himself against the wall a hair's breadth away from falling face first on a very sharp stone. You're more like Grandmother that way than I had first guessed. Heh...it wasn't just in looks alone. Though your eyes...they are definitely...hers...

Echoes of fighting had grown stronger now, even as he came to a large rockfall. Had he begun to lose consciousness? Timothy couldn't recall how he'd gotten there.

Gingerly, glacially slowly, and determinedly, he began to climb. He swore he could hear a voice shouting, "You insolent fools."

On the other side, he climbed out. He looked at the unnocupied prayer chamber dumbly. One look at his face showed almost as much sorrow as the rows of empty seats and unoccupied pulpit. Picking a corridor, he continued on.

Even Myth..., he chuckled to himself, but the sound came out as more of a dry wheeze. He walked on, turning this way and that. The echoes grew louder and clearer still.

Myth hissed her frustration openly as she swung her dagger again. She was using every killing stroke she knew, as well as a few she'd made up on the spur of the moment, and the creature bled. Only bled. Somehow, it properly deflected her strikes each and every time. It was begining to madden her. She refused to die to an anachronism!

Even Myth...because after all, what would an assassin want with ultimate wisdom and peace, otherwise?

Timothy came to a very ornately decorated room that had a ladder leading down. He began the arduous climb, though the sounds of battle had abruptly ceased. This had to be the place.

Reaching the bottom of the ladder, he carefully dismounted and put his hand to his sword. Creeping forward as best he could, he heard soft moaning.

Rounding the corner, he came into the large cavern and was dumbstruck- but only for a moment. Remaining eye opening wide upon spying Jagon, Timothy threw his head back and barked out mirthless laughter.

Wyvern · November 1, 2003

Jagon flaps his gigantic wings for a moment, brushing off the feathers that had come loose from his previous battle as he turns to face the direction of the corridor leading into the chamber. Gazing calmly down the hallway and patiently waiting as the footsteps grow louder and louder, the seraphim's confidence and calmness momentarily waver as he watches the form of Timothy stride into the chamber.

A mortal human, tattered and bleeding, hobbling from exhaustian yet decidedly willing to fight given the position of his hand on his scabbard. Jagon knew foolishness, and as much as he feared to admit it, it simply didn't apply to this case. What the seraphim saw instead was courage, mingled with a hint of insanity and a definitive bond between allies. The notion of the bond strikes at Jagon deeply, like an icey dagger of fear, a devastating contradiction to his hypothesis about humanity...

Jagon frowns as he stares towards the dumbfounded Timothy, thoroughly uncomfortable at his inability to look into both of the human's eyes. The seraphim is about to speak up in a regal tone when suddenly, Timothy lets out a mirthless gale of laughter. For a brief period, it is Jagon who becomes the dumbfounded one.

After a moment of disbelief and perhaps even fear, Jagon's shock is replaced with an air of anger mingled with uncertainty. The seraphim spreads his wings broadly and holds Gaspoliner in the air as he majestically exclaims:

"Dare you laugh upon viewing my countenence, mortal? Are you aware that he who you gaze upon is an emissary of the highest Heavens?!"

Timothy simply shakes his head at this comment and begins laughing even harder, tears beginning to stream down his bruised cheeks. Jagon clenches his teeth, tightening his grip on his blade.

"Stop laughing."

Timothy ignores Jagon's demands as his laughter grows louder, reaching the ears of his allies littered about the floor of the chamber. To Gyrfalcon, Kaleyra, and Myth the laughter is more than the voice of a friend, more than a moment of insanity... it rings in a prophetic tone, as if Timothy were meant to be at their side all along. Yes, as if he were destined to be there with them.

"S-Stop laughing!" exclaims Jagon in disbelief, his will and commands normally enough to stop even the most powerful of denizens. "Cease immediatly, or feel the righteous power of my blade!"

In their positions on the ground, the three fallen heroes feel a sudden surge of vitality in the knowledge of their weary companion's arrival and their duty to aid him in battle. More than strength... a revitalization of confidence, vigor... Hope.

Jagon lets out a deafening battlecry as he charges towards Timothy in rage, positioning Gaspoliner in a deadly striking position...

Ozymandias · November 1, 2003

"I know who you are. That's why I'm laughing," manages Timothy, wiping away tears with his sleeve. "I saw it back when you met us on the road, so long ago. Your past, that is."

Jagon had nearly closed the distnce betwen the two, even as Gyrfalcon hoisted himself up, grim determination writ on his face. Kalyera refocused finally, on her thoughts and the matter at hand, hoping she was not too late. Myth simply gazed steadily at Jagon, murder in her eyes. Jagon's concentration was in fact, broken. They were free.

Jagon fairly dived in front of the battleworn scholar and raised his sword for one, and only one blow. "It's just so sad it's funny you and your kind be corrupted, just like us." With that statement, Timothy moved his arms and sword upward and out in an impressive overhand block, simultaneously twsiting his body to the side of Jagon's killing stroke even as he moves to cleave Timothy's head, perhaps whole body in two with his burning sword. A block, Gyrfalcon realizes in some shock, that *he* uses in tight situations.

Ultimately, however, the maneuver does not serve the young human as well as it has the battle-hardened half-elf. Gaspoliner's might alone reduced the section of blade it touched to white-hot molten metal instantly, the force and arc of Jagon's swing spraying it through the air, even as the top half of Timothy's sword spun away madly to embed itself in a wall. Jagon dodged back despite himself, narrowly avoiding the droplets, but Timothy screamed in agony as he was caught full in the face - a fat wad of burning steel landing home in his ruined eye- then laid open at the right shoulder almost to the bone from the follow through of the incredible weapon.

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