One Last Chance ...

[wangxiuming]

Alyrian bit down onto his lower lip, as he struggled to feel his way down the halls of the Nexus. Something about Hano's cryptic words had struck a warning bell within him; this might be the only chance he had to save his savior, his dearest friend. Mestra and Ditus were away - he had waited a long time for this moment. He remembered Tyton's words: "If Tifton had his soul, perhaps he would be able to love again. And perhaps then I would be able to love him back."

Tifton ... I have not forgotten you. I will not forsake you. If it is the last thing I do, I will return to you joy, and happiness, and caring, and ... hope.

Suddenly, he convulsed, as a crackle of energy streaked from his fingertips into the air. The power. He craved it so badly! He had to have more of it - Mestra, where was she, where did she go?! My lady - I NEED --

No. He had to resist the urge, he had to leave the power behind. Biting down harder onto his lip, the taste of blood assailed his tongue, bitter and yet calming. He needed to focus at the task on hand. Tifton's soul - Tyton had whispered in his ear, that Ditus might possess it. Alyrian needed to get into his chambers.

He approached the doors to his lords' quarters ... and found the familiar yet sinister forms of the Coterie guarding the entrance, as they always did.

[wangxiuming]

Days Later ...

Alyrian stood at the base of the mountainous pathway that wound its way north of Aquor. Inside, he knew he would find what he was searching for - live bodies for him to practice.

The Coterie had turned him away. No physical nor magical attempt to bypass them had been successful. He had even tried ordering them away, but they merely stood in front of Ditus' and Mestra's chambers, staring up at him with their eyes of void. They were the first set of defenses that Alyrian would have to penetrate, if he was to have any hope of finding Tifton's soul.

But there was more than one way to open doors. Sometimes you just have to knock. Mestra had taken a liking to him. The powers they shared were so similar, and yet hers outdistanced his with ease ... for now. He would gain more power. He would gain her trust and her favor. And the first set of barriers would open willingly to his request.

He hoped.

Tifton ... hang in there.

[Lollercide]

"Nulinus..." The name echoed through Hano's mind as he stood bare before a window in the Four Lanterns. With nothing more than the prayer beads around his neck, the blade in his hand, and a scabbard in his other he stares endlessly to the rooftops of Sundren as the sun began to peek over them. The name inspired him with utter confidence in the actions he must take now. What he must do and become.

"...You have given us hope once more. The key. To destroy Ditus, to free the people from his and his sister's tyranny and corruption."

Hano aims the Harbinger's blade gifted to him into his newly forged scabbard. The scabbard forged from an ancient treant's wood who gave its life to save his comrade's. Bound by the flames of the primal elemental, Cinder, who dared to test his fire against the might and conviction of the Knight and his allies.

All testimony to Sundren's will to survive. The sweat, blood, and tears they have all shed to state their conviction; to stand against and purge any threat that dare endanger them or their rights.

"You offered her your soul, Tifton. I'll not tell you that we'll deny you the offer, because I dare not rob you of the thought. The comfort you might find in the thought that your soul will be used to create life - Opposed to your current existence of being damned to only be able to feed off of it, to destroy it."

With that thought he moves the massive blade into the scabbard with great ease. The flames disperse as it is sheathed followed by the traditional 'click' as the hilt meets the mouth of the scabbard.

"The pieces have fallen into place, but there is one more task that needs to be accomplished..."

Turning from the window he glances toward Tamryn fast asleep and sprawled out on the bed. Not even the warm light from the sun could disturb her well deserved rest. Laying there just as bare as the Knight with no attempt to cover herself with blankets, holy symbol glistening in the sunlight as it rest against the pale skin of her chest.

Taking the blade now safely in its sheath he places it beside Bane Slayer and Fireheart in the corner.

"...to dismantle the coterie."

[wangxiuming]

Alyrian stood atop the peaks of the Kurz Cartel's encampment, looking first from one hand and then to the other, fascinated, completely mesmerized by the raw energy wafting off his open palms. Wisps of light were colored deep scarlet, as they trailed behind every motion of the elf's hands, like a trickle of blood in their wake.

All around him, the screams of the wounded and dying filled the air, but Alyrian didn't hear them, didn't feel the pain, the death, that he had caused. The cartel's outer defenses had been no match for his dark power - one by one they charged at him, launched arrow after arrow, spell after spell - all to no avail. All useless in the face of the dark power Mestra had bequeathed and unlocked from within him. A slow, crazed smile spread across the elf's normally pleasant features, twisting them into something monstrous - something diabolical.

A single cartel mage remained standing before him, exhausted of all but one last spell. Time seemed to flow like molasses; Alyrian watched as the mage's hands moved in circles, runic words spoken that he recognized clearly now. A spark, a flash, and a searing ball of coronal fire blasted forth from gnarled and bleeding hands, smashing itself into the elf's frail body, exploding, throwing into the air dust, and ash, and dead flesh, and bone alike.

Alyrian didn't even blink. As the hellish ball landed upon him, he barely winced, barely felt the blazing flames engulf his body. He merely watched as the fire died and the brilliant haze of dust and blood settled back to the earth like a sheen of sugar on pastry.

He looked straight at the mage, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. His finger lifted up, pointing straight at the offending human. A ball of scarlet energy swirled into a coalescence in front of his finger. It was not large, barely greater than Alyrian's fist, but it trembled with terrible ferocity. His enemy's eyes widened with terror, and his mouth opened to scream, as the dark magic shot forth like a cannon with unerring precision, bound straight for a beating heart.

But Alyrian did not hear anything. Not the magician's chilling cry, not the magicks tearing through his pathetic defenses, not the energy ripping straight through human flesh. Not the body falling with a heavy thump onto the ground. And not the voice buried deep inside his own mind, screaming in desperation, trying to reach through to a soul that had lost its way: "TIFTON! DO NOT FORGET TIFTON!"

[wangxiuming]

Weeks Later...

The frail form of a beleaguered elf cast his shadow across long stalks of wheat, the dark silhouette jagged and distorted against them. They were an echo of Alyrian's struggle within - chaotic, shattered ... lost.

He wandered the grassy plains aimlessly, unaware of the presence of a hooded figure, barely a few paces from himself. The figure's head turned to look upon Alyrian's strange movements, coolly.

Minutes passed before Alyrian finally noticed the stranger's gaze. A ponderous voice escaped his cracked lips, slurred and slow: " ... Tifton?"

Without waiting for a response, the raven-haired elf approached his watcher, unabashed and curious. His bloody eyes looked upon the hooded figure, examining it carefully from head to foot.

"You've got the wrong person."

Disappointed, Alyrian looked away. "No ... you are right. You are ... not Tifton." Minutes passed with only a long silence to fill their wake, until finally, Alyrian spoke again: " ... where is he?"

The hooded figure pondered the question, before giving a casual response. "Might I ask who is asking?"

Alyrian's answer was immediate, with neither caution nor contemplation. "I am Alyrian. Will you tell me where Tifton is now?"

" ... we've met once before, I believe. I do not expect you to remember. And I am not sure where the person you seek is."

"I've ... tried everything." Alyrian's voice was dry, weak - exhausted. "I've searched, and scoured, and overturned and uncovered ... but still, there is nothing!"

The stranger's words were soft, but chill and sharp, in stark contrast to Alyrian's rasp. "You have placed yourself in harm's way for another."

"A pawn ... it seems you were."

Alyrian merely stared back blankly. "A pawn ... a pawn ..."

" ... where is Tifton?"

The hooded figure gave the same answer he had so many times that night. "I haven't your answer Alyrian. Forgive me."

The elf's eyes darted around the surroundings, as if he expected to be able to find Tifton then and there. His distorted gaze fell upon a large slab of grey stone, and his eyes lit up with a crimson hue. "Tifton ... are you hiding from me?"

In a flash, his arm shot out to his side, and a searing blast of energy sliced the stone apart cleanly in half. The stranger merely stared on as Alyrian rushed to the broken remains of the rocks, falling to his knees. He began to dig with his hands and nails, dragging aside the stone slabs and burrowing his fists into the earth, clawing and pulling with a desperate urgency.

"Now now, the answers you need will not be found from underneath that rock. Calm yourself."

Slowly, unwillingly, the elf's pace began to slow to a stop. " ... he's not here ... " Chilling laughter ensued. "Hahaha ... he's not here ... hahaha ... hahaha ..."

The stranger looked on, his hood only barely containing a growing interest. "It seems a rational mind is something you cannot take advantage of." The words were lost on Alyrian however, who only stood up slowly and began to pace once again.

Moments passed as Alyrian walked a few steps forward, only to turn and pace further, eyes always scanning the earth, skies and horizon, desperately searching before turning again and continuing under his maddened haze. It was another few minutes before Alyrian seemed to finally notice the strange hooded figure again.

" ... Tifton?" Alyrian approached without hesitation to take a closer look, the memory of their previous encounter already lost.

The figure's hood turned to stare the frail elf, pausing for a quiet moment.

"Yes, Alyrian. It is I, Tifton."

\\Please feel free to post, Hooded Figure