Jareena Faye

Salinye~ Okay, sorry! The "IF necessary, use your voice" thing kind of threw me... I've met too many Christians who just sit on the sidelines doing nothing. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't mad or anything!

Hey yo... if you ever wanna talk, PM me.

What are you saying? That Christians shouldn't stand up for what they believe in?

I'm confident that if a person was cloned, they would have their own individual soul... just, as we said before, an identity crisis. Mean. And how, exactly, would you just create a "lump of flesh" for mankind's benefit without creating the rest of the person, too? Doesn't cloning involve infants, which is also stated above? Or do you put the DNA in a special microwave and out comes the transplant liver?

Everybody together now!! To the tune of "The Old Rugged Cross." Ready? On a board, far away Is an old RPG But nobody posts there at all For twas on that RP That the first R of me Was lost in a bad cave's dark walls! So I'll cherish that old RPG 'Til my character at last I lay down I will cling to that old RPG 'Til I pawn it someday for a pound! Yeah okay, sorry, I've been wanting to do that for a while. :yuiwink:

Well said, my friend. And if God made you, then God is your father, and He has great things to pass on to you.

*thoughtful nod* Sounds better than using abortion fetuses.

Exactly. As for cloning, even if you could say it's not scientifically wrong, I fancy the clone would have a severe identity crisis. "So you don't love me... you just loved the person I was cloned from, and you wanted them back?" "So God didn't make me... does that mean I have a soul?" "DID God make me?" I suppose that's off-subject, though.

Well, I like to say that the "gray" areas aren't neutral/both right and wrong, they're simply hard to discern. And sometimes a person can be right about one thing and wrong about another. (Like I said about Buddha.) But there most assuredly are absolutes. And if there aren't, we have to believe in them anyway, or life is pointless.

Gollum, gollum. *swallows hard* They STOLE it! They STOLE the preciousssss!

As a big Creationist, I usually don't appreciate it when people make fun of God. But you're an exception, cuz you did it so cutely. Good job! Let there be me leaving... *exuent*

Well, we're still waiting. It's all okay, really, but I hope you can find/make/get time soon.

Excuse my narrow-mindedness here. I'm not trying to offend or anger anyone. But I've read a lot on this subject, and I think this theory is a very dangerous one. If any of this makes you upset, just don't read/reply to this post. "Apart from consciousness, no absolute truths exists." So you're saying there's no right and wrong, no you, no me, no anything? To say that there was would be saying they are absolutes. The thought doesn't exactly fill one with hope. If you came upon some one trying to commit suicide, would this theory give them anything to live for? "False reasoning declares one view to be true and another view wrong. It is delight in their dearly held opinions that makes them assert that anyone who disagrees is bound to come to a bad end." It was pretty clever to say that just after the last statement, because it claims that anyone (like me) who disagrees is not only stuck-up, but expects you all to burn in Hell. I do not. But how can Buddha claim my reasoning is false, when there are no absolutes? Is he saying I'm WRONG? I thought wrong didn't exist. "But no true seeker becomes embroiled in all this. Pass by peacefully and go a stainless way, free from theories, lusts and dogmas." Passing by peacefully sounds nice, and believe it or not I do that often. But it is impossible not to have a "dogma" or sorts. You have an opinion, I have an opinion. No matter what it is, we all believe something. (If you say "I do not believe in God," that could be translated as saying "I BELIEVE there is no God.") There are no unbiased opinions. To be "free from theories, lusts and dogmas" is to not be human. Sounds more like a computer to me. The same goes with being stainless. Buddha was all for peace and that's great. But that doesn't mean he was right about everything.

JAREENA FAYE My armor clanked loudly as the three of us moved down the tunnel--- Distarius and I walking, Ryuu riding and flapping her wings irritably. Every now and then she informed us about a crevice caught in the stafflight that she couldn't see, and told us to follow it; but for the most part, she remained silent. I don't think she was particularly interested in anything else. I noticed that Ryuu sat on the shoulder farthest from me, where she was hidden by Distarius's head. She seemed to be patiently tolerating me, as I did her. Still, it was disappointing. I owed her an apology, too... but it would have to wait until later. When we were alone. "You think you've heard the name Skraelan before," I said slowly. "Yes," Ryuu replied. "I only wish I could remember where..." "Any vague intuitions?" I asked. "Thoughts, feelings..." Distarius picked up on my idea. "She means whether you associate the name with something similar to a mercenary, or another god, et cetera." The bird ruffled her feathers. "I don't know. I wish I did." "It had better not be another 'god'," I grumbled, looking ahead and pacing faster. Distarius gave me a look. "Weren't you going to try to be more agreeable?" "Trying," I sighed. "I'm sorry, there's no excuse for the way I've been lately. I only... I've heard of how difficult these things can be. I know I can't face these people alone." "You aren't alone," Ryuu said. I looked at them sadly, but said nothing. I think they were insulted by that, but how could I say I wasn't doing spiritual warfare alone, when I was the only one who had truly chosen a side? It was harsh, but nevertheless true. "What have you heard... exactly?" Distarius asked. "If I want to know, that is." "I love to tell the stories," I smirked. "Stop me if they frighten you." :yuiwink: "How many stories?" Ryuu wondered aloud. "For your benefit, I'll only tell one. It takes place before the creation of the earth." "A pre-Genesis?" I smiled and nodded. "Yes. "In the ages before the ages, when the earth was only an unformed mass, there was only God and the angels who praised Him in the Heavens. Of these legions, he created three archangels to command one third each--- Michael, the warrior; Gabriel, the messenger; and Lucifer, the most beautiful angel of them all. God had given each angel autonomy, though He knew that Lucifer was vain. Eventually, the archangel's pride was fully conceived, annd it gave birth to rebellion. He thought that he should be God. One third of the angels followed him in his rebellion, and God cast them out of Heaven, onto the unformed earth. "Lucifer's name was changed to Satan. He fancied that he ruled the 'earth'. When God made it into a place of life and beauty and gave it to Adam and Eve, he was filled with hatred, and set out to win the earth back from them. Man fell from his lies, and the curse of sin came upon them and all other creatures. Satan ruled it once again. But before casting His creations out of Paradise, the Lord promised to send a deliverer. "That deliverer was God Himself, incarnate. Satan thought he had won when his followers killed Jesus Christ--- but when Jesus rose, He had not only paid the price of all sin, but He had defeated death. Satan had lost, and when God came to take the earth back, the angel would burn in eternal fire. He has lost. The Devil can only hope to drag as many of us down as possible before the final battle." "What does that have to do with this?" Ryuu asked. "I know I've been exceedingly narrow-minded already," I replied, "but there's only one god. Every city has a demon 'prince' who rules it, just like human rank. If humans decide to make their own gods of wood or stone or nature, their prayers end up going to a demon, who adopts that name." "Then why are you worried?" Distarius asked. "One demon prince shouldn't be that hard to defeat, if you have enough Biblical weaponry." I grimaced and shook my head. "Think again."

Good thing I was too lazy to post this morning. Can either of you leave an opening for me to tell a quick story before we're separated? *toothy smile*

Elinthar didn't kill anyone! Bust them prayer warriors in there to exorcise him or something! No one's dead yet!

OKAY! That is... if I'm guessing correctly at your definition of "set." (?) More lazyness in third person! Weariness may have set in on the fighters in the sanctuary, or it may not have. Most every bloodstream surged with adrenaline, which they used either to try to escape, to fight those trying to escape, or to fight the syrakk; but as mentioned before, the sanctuary's main doors were weakening. It seemed that the bugs wanted to get out of the sanctuary, as well, and open more windows and doors for their brethren. Syrakk and soldier alike froze when a loud groaning and snapping resonated across the stone room. The way was clear at last, opening to a hallway that led to any other place in the hold. Clicks and shrieks buzzed in all ears as the creatures left their adversaries and prey to swarm through the open doorway. They were met by an angry crowd of men and women, armed with backboards, lances, swords, carving knives, dogs, and chair legs. They had heard the commotion in the sanctuary, and now they were ready. With a cry, they flooded forward in unison, swinging and hacking at anything non-human. One syrakk flapped its wings and flew to the back of the sanctuary, turning at the high crucifix to tuck its wings and dive back the way it had come, barreling through other bugs, barreling under the threshold of the doorway, barreling through the rag-tag army. A path was cleared momentarily, and the other syrakk took advantage of it. They poured into every opening in the ranks, biting and gnashing, but looking more preoccupied with getting through the hallways. Each stopped at a doorway or window, trying to rip it open. The hum of a thousand wings could be heard outside, waiting. Like madmen, the serfs and knights charged after them. They would keep as many windows closed as possible, and take care of the syrakk one at a time if they could. That hope was lost, however, and soon became only a desperate fight for survival, when several courtyard doors were sprung open. It was insanity, chaos. Blurred images of flailing limbs and swords. Barely noticed pain. The occasional burst of fire from a shifting bug. Weapons and claws clashing. "FORM A LINE!" General Garth roared, his hoarse voice somehow rising above the din. Knights and Crystlin soldiers came to stand shoulder to shoulder. Raising their swords and lances, they became a human wall blocking the corridor. The syrakk moved together as well, sharpening newborn talons to reciprocate. Colin stood as a reserve behind the first line. He heard a voice screaming incessantly, in anger rather than fear, and turned back against his better judgment. His eyes fell upon a calm, unarmed few, kneeling on the floor and holding hands with heads bowed. Korrin stood over them, roaring in their ears. "YOU SHOULD BE FIGHTING!" Running, Colin approached them. "RALLIS! You were a killer and a thief! That was all you knew! We need that knowledge now!" Korrin shouted to one man. He whirled. "Isha! You take your fate into your own hands, remember? This is all in vain! Rise up and attack!" None of them seemed to take notice, closing their eyes to the battle around them and praying aloud. "Stop it!" screamed Korrin, spitting with the effort. "You'll die! Do you hear me? You'll DIE!" Colin finally reached the boy and grabbed his arm. "Stop it, boy, and join the fight! They are adding to our strength in a more powerful way!" Yanking his arm free, Korrin gave the older knight a look of pure hatred, one Colin had never seen on the sweet boy's face before. Korrin lowered his head and charged Colin with incredible strength. Colin fell onto his back, winded. He saw a sword spinning in the air before arcing straight toward him. Colin tried to roll. He felt the sword fall just to the right of his heart. It should have bounced from his breastplate, but it stuck, quivering. He stared at it in wonder, feeling warmth trickle down his chest beneath the armor, and looked up to Korrin again, as if to inquire if he saw. The boy was smirking, and ran off. Hands grabbed for Colin, dragging him across the battle-thrashed floor. The sounds of war grew fainter as he was pulled into a small side room, where other people were hiding. He recognized the dark-haired woman bending over him, though her face was distorted with horror and grief. "Colin!" Anaya said. "Colin--- Oh, God!" "That's right," he said calmly. "Pray." "You're in shock. You don't--- Grison, look away! Would some one take him---" Anaya was looking around frantically, at her son now shielded in an old woman's arms, at the sword piercing Colin's armor, at the room as if it might contain something she needed. "I have--- I don't know wh--- Oh, where---" "Dearie me, calm down," Colin scoffed. Anaya buried her face in her hands. "Now, I'm sure if we can pry this sword out, I can give the syrakk some good licks before I fall. It will get in the way, you see, if it's sticking out like this." "You fool, don't you understand?" Anaya wailed. "You're going to die!" "As opposed to what?" he asked dryly. He sat up on his elbows, confused by his own calmness in the present situation. Round, white eyes were fixated on him with horror. Colin wondered what to say. His mind was void and empty. Peering through the old woman's arms, Grison looked calmer than anyone there. They exchanged quiet smiles. "He who dwells in the shelter of the most high," Colin said slowly, "...will rest in the shadow of the almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my rock and fortress, my God in whom I trust.' " All eyes still watched him, some now showing hints of confusion and sorrow. He continued, "Surely, he will save you from the fowler's snare, and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with His fathers, and under His wings you will find refuge." "I'm not ready to die," some one whispered, and began crying. "You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand my fall at your side--- ten thousand at your right hand. But it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. They will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone." Anaya swallowed her sobs and asked, more-or-less composed, "But why would He do that for me? I don't know your God, nor have I served him." "He saves us for His son's sake," Colin said, "who loved us. Jesus made a great sacrifice for us, the sacrifice of His life. His Father will not forget it. If we are in Him, we will never be forsaken. Even if we do die, death has been defeated." Colin smiled. He felt no pain, so he didn't see why they should. One of the cowering few spoke up. "I believe it. I have to." "What is the work required to obtain this?" Anaya asked. Colin jerked the sword free, ignoring the glare of red at the tip of the blade. "The work of God is this: to believe in the One He has sent." "It can't be that easy," some one muttered, as Colin stood. "That's what I said at first," he shrugged. "You just watch. He won't let us down!" With that, he opened the splintering door to return to the battle. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that the rest of the deserters were behind him, hopeful, afraid, and smiling. ~*~ [How do I manage to make such little scenes so long?] "FALL BACK!" General Garth roared, now completely unsure of where his voice's strength came from. The man retreated with him in an orderly fashion, entering the deserted dining hall. Other men where there, with their assorted weapons. The dwindling crowd moved to the opposite side of the room, luring the flood of syrakk in after them. When the flood stopped, six men slammed the doors shut, trapping the monsters inside. The knights came together again, forming disciplined lines. The order was given. They charged again. General Garth found himself barely a foot from his foe again, swinging his heavy sword with vigor. So many lives depended on him. It nearly sapped his strength to emerge from berserker mode and even consider it. "I will protect him, for he acknowledges My name," the man muttered breathlessly, and was surprised to see the syrakk stumble for some unknown reason. He killed it and moved to another. The next syrakk was taller, standing on the hind legs of some mammilian beast and waving all six bug legs in a frenzy. The general watched for a weak point and attacked it. Somehow, yet another leg he had not seen struck him onto his black. Mantis-like claws were raised to strike. "Lord, help me!" The syrakk bent low and hissed in his face. He cut off its head. Garth rolled to his feet and jumped over a recently crushed table to fight another foe. Something immensely strong struck his side, knocking him over. They tumbled across the stone floor, landing near a body that had ceased to live in the process of shifting to another form completely. Garth struggled against the arms which pinned him down at ease. He moved his head within the loose helmet, trying to position it correctly once more. His eyes moved behind the visor once again, and he looked upon his attacker. The thin, red-headed teenager grinned as if he could see Garth's shock. "Hello, solider!" Garth's arm swung, sword gleaming, to remove the young traitor without question. Korrin's hand caught it in midair, bent it back, wrenched it free, and tossed it across the room. "Syrakk," Garth breathed. Korrin laughed as though it were a joke, then jumped back, picking up the general as if he were a rag doll. Garth found himself slammed onto the broken table, breaking it further. The laugh was obviously too intelligent for him to be a bug, his aching head calculated, but he was much too strong to be a boy. "I've wanted to kill you since before you were born," Korrin sneered. "How could you have been around?" the general asked, unable to move in the boy's strong grip. "I saw the earth before its foundations were laid!" Korrin boomed. His young voice held chilling resonance. "And it was MINE, before it was given to the likes of you! I saw Eden created. I saw it flooded! I saw it become a desert." He struck the Garth so hard that his helmet was knocked away. It too clattered across the room, bent out of shape. "I am the Prince of Crystlin! Unseen, I ruled over your home city before it could even be considered a village! I am your master!" "No," Garth rasped, blood flowing from his mouth. "You are not my master. My master is---" Korrin's hands curled around Garth's neck tightly, choking off the last word. He threw the man to the floor, where he stayed, too injured to defend himself. "Show me who you are, if not a simple boy named Korrin," Garth said in a whisper. The room was filled to the brim with screams and shrieks, but he could see understanding in his attacker's hateful eyes. "In Jesus' name, show me who you are!" "With pleaure." Korrin reached for the sword at his side. As he drew it, a brilliant flash surged through the air. The sword was held high like a flaming tongue of steel blue. Garth saw that in the flash, Korrin's outward appearance had changed as well. His hair was a streak of gold, his skin silver, eyes white, like the dwarven towers of Crystlin. Wings stretched across the room. His black robes billowed over his feet, dispersing and flickering like fire. Garth's heart stopped beating as he stared at the higher, more powerful being. "I am Elinthar," it boomed. "Prince of Crystlin!"

Hmm... I suppose I could write something. Or I could be lazy and make you wait 'til Monday. Lazy lazy lazy.

~*~ COLIN AP WARREN It was barely dawn when General Garth--- lord, I wonder if that man ever sleeps ---roused the fighting men of the hold to do carpentry work. That's right, I said carpentry. There I was, without even having eaten breakfast, nailing large pieces of wood over our stained glass windows. Hmph. Apparently the general decided windows looking like walls weren't safe, either. I really shouldn't complain. I'm just protecting my home. Doing my duty. I only wish duty didn't always come so early in the morning. "Hand me another nail," I said, gripping the ladder to lean down at my assistant. Korrin quickly bent down to reach for one, holding it up eagerly. "Say, Colin?" (Here we go.) "Aren't you best friends with the lord mayor's sister's husband the general's daughter?" "Ah... the lord mayor's daughter, who is the general's niece... yes." "Yes well she left with that dragon and the wizard last night so they could go up to the ridge without you. I bet you're mad she didn't ask you to come. But anyway, don't you think it's unfair that they get to go off having adventures while we're quarantined in here? There's nothing to do. And why haven't they fed us?" "Because we're quarantined," I answered. "W---" "What's quarantined, anyway? Doesn't that sound like a type of rock to you? Maybe I'm thinking of quartz. But why does quarantined mean you can't eat your own food? How long do we have to stay in here? Are quarantines supposed to last this long?" "We're TRAPPED in here, Korrin," I said, rather disappointed that the banging of my hammer didn't drown out his voice. "That means we eventually run out of food. And it will last as long as the syrakk are outside." "You mean we could starve in here?" "Hand me another board. And be quiet." Korrin picked up another broad sheet of wood, once the bench of a merchant's wagon. "Why are people always asking me to be quiet? I can say whatever I want!" I gestured with my hammer across the sanctuary. "Boarding up the windows is loud enough. And you see those people by the altar? They're frightened. They're trying to pray. They may die very soon, Korrin, so they want to make sure they have reservations in Heaven." Korrin wrinkled his nose at the people, and several monks who were trying to assure and counsel them. The small trickle of yesterday had now become a flood. There was no room for them all in our once-spacious sanctuary. It was a rather fearful sight, and at the same time uplifting to see so many finding peace of mind. Korrin didn't seem to share my views. He talked louder than ever. It's funny how your subconscious remembers things so vividly, right before disaster strikes. I remember hearing one quavering voice say, "Amen." Then the air exploded into screaming, tinkling crash. Human screams and syrakk screams intertwined as a huge black body burst through a stained-glass cross, sacrificing itself as it tumbled and died in a pew. Other syrakk flew in behind it. People were running. More windows were breaking. Some had already been boarded up. The syrakk, not knowing this, broke through merely to break their necks against the wooden barriers, which cracked and splintered. I was watching the people milling about beneath me when my own window, only partially-boarded, broke. The syrakk was caught between the wood and the sill, but it managed to tilt my ladder. I fell into another pew. Weight struck the ladder on top of me. Another syrakk had landed on it, forming reptilian jaws with which to gape at me. I punched its lower jaw and used the ladder as leverage, throwing it off. I then stood and tossed the ladder into another syrakk like a spear. I whirled around, searching for Korrin. His back was partially turned to me, and he held my sword. "KORRIN! TOSS IT!" He looked at me and hesitated, then did so with a hateful look. I had no time to wonder about it, discarding the sheath to meet a monster in battle. I wondered where my helmet had gotten to. Several people had already fallen prey to the syrakk, and it seemed like more and more were pouring in all the time. The people were running across the sanctuary for a pair of tall, oaken doors at the end. "No!" I shouted over the noise, but my voice did no good. "Keep the doors closed!" Other knights had already blocked their path. We knew that even if we died in here, we couldn't allow the bugs to get into the rest of the building.

FATHER BERAK Inrah Warrensra certainly was mad, there was no question of that. His motive, that of revenge, was hardly original and certainly wouldn't prove fulfulling when all was said and done; but I could not deny his power. It was neither invisible nor mysterious, a refreshing sight. Perhaps I had been weak to lose my faith in God the Father, and perhaps we would be defeated in the end. I could only hope to gain as much as possible now, in the lifetime, and deal as many blows to God as possible. I knew what hurt him most--- the annhilation of His children before they came to know Him. And I knew what angered him most--- the death of His saints. Yes Jesus, Your blood was most certainly in vain. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that--- considering the fact that God wrote the Bible ---there was really nothing to say Satan couldn't end up winning, once he had chosen a vessel and seized full control of the earth. And when that happened, even more of God's people would be killed. So why not join him? Inrah was in a trance when I entered his chamber. Skraelan had grown considerably, coiled completely around the room. I waited, not wanting to disturb them. However, Skraelan soon opened his eyes, raised his head, and said, "Welcome, Father Berak." Inrah immediately fell from his trance, hitting the floor. He pushed himself up weakly, beginning to curse, before he found himself face to face with Skraelan. Inrah fell silent, letting the insult go. Skraelan turned back to me. "The Prince of Crystlin is hungry. If you're finished with your monestary, we will be starting." I began to speak. Skraelan cut me off, as well. "The cathedral windows--- I know. We are everywhere." He turned to Inrah. "You may begin." Inrah crossed his legs once more, held up his hands as a secret sign, and began to mutter an incantation, incessantly. Skraelan looked at me, his dragon face full of calm derision. "By the way. Your friend and the mage have escaped, thanks to the shifter who was in here some minutes ago. If you wish to put your newly acquired skills to the test, I suggest you change the cave's shape in order to separate them." "Easily," I said, looking a bit more confident than I felt. "I'm sure I can figure out how to turn the shifter's power against her. Jareena is most likely still soft toward me. And the mage should fall prey even faster." "Do not be so sure," Skraelan snorted. Puffs of sulfur wafted from his nostrils. "He no longer channels our magic. Another Spirit occupies that place now. Your best bet would be his staff." I nodded and turned to leave. Still, the Platinum had more to say. "Berak! Distarius is not the only one filled with a Spirit! Make sure neither of them provoke the name, and do not allow Jareena to use her sword." "A simple freezing spell---" "Her spiritual sword, dimwit!" the dragon huffed. I nodded shakily and rushed out as Skraelan turned his glare back to Inrah. "Hurry up!" I heard him shouting. "The people down there are almost lost to the enemy!" ~*~ Outside, the syrakk stirred restlessly, as if awakening from a dream. They looked at one another, wiggling their mandibles hungrily. Something deep within, the controlling spirits that were not their own, were pointing down the ridge at the building they had been staring at all night. There was a click and a screech--- one grew wings to spread thick and black against the pale sky. Others were doing the same. Like a cloud of deformed, demonic bats, they plunged into the sky, pouring at an arc toward the Hold of Bakurus.

Ry-uuu come baaaack.... I hate walking in secluded areas. My aunt always told me my stride was much too broad, making my footsteps heavy even though I wasn't. The syrakk crowding around my feet made that impossible. I was forever skipping and stumbling, trying to avoid the hissing, snapping pinschers at my ankles. It was more annoying than anything else. After staring at the screen for a long time wondering if I should start another conversation with Distarius, my author finally decided to skip ahead. Very suddenly we were at the end of a third tunnel, herded into a wide cavern. There was an opening at the far end, although we couldn't feel the air. Through that opening we could see the Hold of Bakurus far below, now partially lighted in approaching sunrise. The sky was becoming a light blue, soon to be yellow. I looked down suddenly when I felt the syrakk retreat. In reality, they hadn't moved at all--- their bodies simply seemed to be dissolving into nothing. Through my helmet, I looked to Distarius. "What's happening?" "Ryuu told me about this," he said, watching the bugs disappear. "They're very powerful shifters. Shifting into air." I returned my gaze to the syrakk, until the last of them was gone. Or appeared to be gone. I felt as if I was surrounded by demons, unseen yet always watching. Nevertheless, if they were air, there was nothing to say I couldn't walk right through them. I did so, slowly at first, then confidently as I paced toward the edge of the cavern to gaze upon Bakurus. There was a sudden, painful jolt, and I was thrown to my back. Something invisible had knocked me to the floor. I was aware of a field of rippling yellow above me, while Distarius asked, "Are you alright?" "Yes... fine." I was pushing myself up on my elbows. "What on earth...?" Distarius stood beside me, watching the rippling energy until it became invisible again. "It looks like a prison spell." "You mean, we're prisoners?" I asked as I struggled to stand. He gave me a disdainful look. "That's the general idea, yes." Pacing the cavern carefully, he held his staff outstretched. Whenever it struck wall, the field would ripple like water, holding a sparkling yellow glow for a moment afterward. When he was finished, we had a general idea of the cell's size--- about fifteen feet in diameter. The mage then shrugged and sat down to wait. Although I suppose I can't call him a mage anymore. But, rather than think him a fraud, I think I admired him more that way. He could have been any number of worse things. "What are you waiting for?" I asked, feeling rather incompetent since he seemed to have all the answers. "I'm waiting for the bad guy behind all this," Distarius replied. "It's always the same. We're captured, then he shows up and explains his evil plan. He finds some reason to spare us, we find a way out, and then we beat him." I took off my helmet, so that he could see my disdainful look. "And you're positive it will be the same in this case?" "Pretty sure. I give it a seventy percent chance." Shaking my head, I sighed. "In life and death, Distarius, I wouldn't take that chance." "Do you know what's going to happen?" "I'm only saying to be ready for surprises." Distarius leaned to one side, looking over my shoulder. "Here comes Surprise #1." I turned around to face the cave opening. Something appeared to be flying from the hold... which confused me. It was black, at least from this distance. The wings looked strange. As the creature grew near, I saw it had four of them, all flapping at different intervals. Clawed feet hung in the air, as well as something more. Four heads. A fifth head portruded from the monster's back, indicating a rider. It became evident that the creature was approaching our cell with great speed. I stood and backed away from the opening, though I knew there was an invisible barrier. It turned out to be a wise move, for the four-headed syrakk passed right through in a glimmering glow, soared over our heads, and passed out of the cell again, landing on the other side of the wall. A man in a brown robe climbed off, his back to us. As Distarius and I watched him dismount the monster, my mind was filled with confusion, rather than disbelief. Distarius seemed to comprehend what was going on better than I... Easy for him. He hadn't known the man. "Father Berak?" I asked, still confused. He did not seem surprised to see me. "Elinthar told me your father's mercenaries were on their way, long before they reached the Hold. He also told me you were planning on leaving with them." "Forgive me, Father. I should have told you. But who is Elinthar?" Father Berak smiled sadly. "You might say he's a demon." "A demon?" Distarius seemed to be merely waiting for something to occur to me. "I have been speaking with him for several years now, Jareena." Father Berak studied me a moment. "You still don't understand, do you? Or perhaps you don't want to. Long ago, I grew tired of waiting upon One who did not seem to hear or answer. With one, simple prayer, I turned to serve the god of this age." "But... but that's..." "Satan." I stared at him in disbelief. My head pounded with each heartbeat. What he was saying made sense, and yet... it was the exact opposite of sense. "You are a man of God, Father Berak. Belonging to Christ! Bought by His blood!" "The price was cheap," the monk spat, with animosity I had never seen in him before. Had it been hidden from me so long? "I am a mortal man, with no time to waste." "Waste?" "Have I brainwashed you so well?" he demanded. "We will all die, Jareena! If I must live my life away, I will live it on the side that rules this world. It was given to him in the beginning, you know. Haven't you read Genesis?" "Looks like some one hasn't read Revelation," Distarius muttered, unheard by the monk. He turned away with a shake of his head. Father Berak serves the god of this age? This fleeting shadow of the things to come? The argument was clear in my mind, but my mind was not clear on my tongue. I was barely aware of my mouth hanging open, trembling slightly. Father Berak was patting the four-headed syrakk, as if it was a pet he despised, before he walked away from us. "Do you control the syrakk?" Distarius called after him. "You may think that, if you wish." Berak disappeared into darkness. I finally sank to my knees, still in shock. How could he, of all people, betray us? More importantly, the God I had thought he so loved? Closing my eyes tightly, I found myself praying as a child cried to his mother. My heart felt as if it had been wrung dry, and left hanging twisted in my chest. My body was tense and trembling. And I was very, very confused.

Well, I'm getting rather tired of waiting. This RPG has been pushed down to ninth place, and that's not good, not good at all... So, I'm just gonna write some dialogue... and if it messes up your story at all, you can disregard it. I realize I'm probably being an idiot for doing this anyway, so if any inconsistencies are formed just ignore me! ~¤~ There must have truly been angels surrounding us, for we fought roughly fifteen syrakk before they stopped coming. By then, my armor was dented here and there, my sword badly stained. I could feel a few droplets of sweat trickling beneath my armor, an uncomfortable feeling I couldn't easily assuage. I partially removed my helmet to gulp the musty air, also letting the heat in my face radiate away. "Where's Ryuu disappeared to?" Distarius asked from nearby. "I don't know," I replied without glancing up. I sensed some displeasure in his silence, and looked around for myself a moment later. There was no sign of the shape-shifter, in any form. Distarius was holding one arm, where a plate of armor had somehow been dislodged. That arm also held his staff, drooping close to the ground. Strands of hair had escaped from his own helmet, plastered to his forehead with sweat. A look of worry filled his face. "The last time I saw her, she was in better condition than at the last battle," I said, trying to encourage him--- even though my voice was not as kind as it could have been. "If she could survive that, I am sure she's fine now. Wherever she went." Distarius looked around, concealing his worry with thoughtfulness. "Well, there are only two ways to go. Back up to the entrance, into the darkness over there, or through this opening where all the syrakk have been coming from." "You're her friend. Where do you think she'd go?" "Back to the entrance is the least likely." Distarius frowned, obviously having to make a hard decision. His hand still held one arm tenderly. "If the other options are fifty-fifty chances... I suppose we'll have to take the syrakk entrance. That way we have both a chance at being right and at catching up with her." I nodded with as much casualty as I could, though I pitied him, and made the first move toward the tunnel. I stopped and looked back at the mage. "Your light?" "Oh yeah." He shifted his staff into the other hand and stepped up quickly, holding the diamond end forward. We didn't walk long before I glanced at the arm he'd been holding, which was the farthest from me. It was hard to tell in the light now dim, but I thought I saw a few drops of blood hitting the floor. Not small drops, either. "You look to be badly wounded," I said conversationally. Distarius glanced at me, and pressed his left arm to his side, making it harder to see. "Not much I can do about it." "No healing spell?" I regretted the sneer in my voice, but by then it was too late. "I don't... um... That might not work so well." "Why not?" "Well, you see, it's complicated, because..." Distarius's voice trailed off, and he shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Yeah." I stared at the floor ahead, contemplative, before saying, "You really can't do it, can you?" He looked down. "No, not really." "Well," I said slowly, "why not?" Distarius started making another excuse, but he sighed and decided to come clean. He spoke as if ashamed--- either of the truth, or of the fact that he'd hidden it. "For quite a while now, I've been doubting my magic. It's at the point where I can only use my staff and some cheap tricks. Does that make you happy?" I wasn't sure how to answer that question. It occurred to me (rather late) that I hadn't been showing much unconditional love to these strangers, to the point that they thought I hated them. It took me over a minute to think of something to say, and by that time the silence had been fully established. My voice echoed through it almost rudely. "Perhaps I owe you an apology. For not making my opinion clear." Distarius smirked. "Because you don't share your opinion too often!" "I disagree with you and Flameshifter in several areas," I continued. "But I don't think any less of you as people. I don't beleive anyone is better than anyone else, although I suppose my actions have not been much of a testimony to that fact. I need you to forgive my pride." Distarius cocked his eyebrows. "Alright, no problem." While I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly he brushed it aside, the silence that followed did not reassure me. Silence, at least for me, means detachment. "How's your arm?" I asked. "I'll be fine," he said. Although I thought he looked a little paler...

I totally forgot about that... sorry dudes.

If you think you're capable of having an intelligent conversation from opposing viewpoints, vote yes. If flames tend to shoot from your ears, vote no. If you're not interested in engaging in debates, just don't vote. Well, I think I've caused enough controversy for one day. My work here is done. *whoosh*

"Thank you for your patience." Ha, you sound like an airline announcer! Well, I shall wait... and I didn't have time to say sorry! Really, I would have!! :yuiwink: