Intop Rises

[Kaz]

The road through the Northern foothills continued to rise, meandering its way towards the jagged grey peaks ahead. Kaz and his companion continued on in silence. He had been through this pass before, long ago, when he was more than he is now. Memories returning with every step he took he walked on, towards the Northern Mountains, towards the lands of the Droben.

He thought back to his first meeting with Ruark, in the Library that once stood at Toros. Kaz had ventured to the library on his quest to discover the Arian, picking up a companion on route. The memory of the small elf Aurelia brought a smile back to his lips, he missed the little one, perhaps more than any other being he had met - and lost - in his long life. But she was long gone from these lands, she had left with her mistress when Maxim was destroyed. Kaz and Aurelia had arrived at Toros after a long trek through dense jungle. On arrival they had discovered that they were not the only visitors. Ruark, Megalith of the Northern Mountains droben was there before him. With him were two beings of power, Volodimire, and the betrayer Korin Lemire.

He had met the Droben again, later. After he escaped with Volodimire from the time bubble, and returned to his ancient homeland. From Fernabergia they had travelled together, finally locating Solas' tomb at Mac Caros. Inside they had used the crystal from the vampress Islia's dagger to release Niurin from his ancient prison, and to give him a new one.

For years Kaz had shared his mind with the ancient Voice of Intop. In the beginning they had managed to get along, Niruin teaching Kaz of the ancient wisdom of the sun and moons, and of the ten signs of the ages, from the birth of the phoenix through to the fiery end of the dragon's flame. But then it had gone wrong, Niurin took control of Kaz's body and had imprisoned him within his own mind.

Time had passed and Niurin and his cult had become strong. The droben had joined him, led by their leader Ruark, and for years Niurin had killed those who stood against the will of Intop. Until Kaz ended it one autumn afternoon in the Inn of Hopers Hopper, Niurin had become intoxicate beyond what was normal, and in that moment Kaz had forced himself back into control, banishing Niurin to a disembodied existance.

In that moment, the walls that had protected Kaz from years of repressed pain came crushing down driving him to the brink of insanity. For years he had wondered, and the world had changed.

[to be continued]

[Volodimire]

Volodimire grasped Runeweaver's hand in a firm handshake, and then pulled him close with the other arm around his back. They were brothers in arms once, long ago.

Volodimire reflected as he stood beside Runeweaver. Time had passed him unnervingly slow in the years leading up to now. He had felt removed for so long, like an automaton going through the motions. There was even a point that Volodimire had nearly forgotten his name, and had felt his own soul seemingly lost to the strands of time. No longer did his magic bend so easily his will, no longer could he feel those strands tugging at his soul. Isolated and alone, he had prayed desparately for oblivion, but as he pried his way in to the darkness the dark stirred and looked back.

Runeweaver had plucked him from that oblivion, pulled him back to his senses, and had saved him from himself. His insides lurched a little, but he ignored it. It was good being in the company of old friends.

[Vret]

Vrets hands remained steady as he dragged his knife across the throat of the now nameless soldier. Blood gushed in muted gurgling as the soldier uselessly fumbled to be free of Vrets iron grip.

He had become the very thing he had once loathed. Murderous hands tempted his mind till spilling blood became as simple as breathing. Born of the Sisters of Fates, he often could see the persons death before it happened. Echoes of the past replayed in his mind like a soothing lulliby, and he cradled these memories in cherished rememberance. He was the hands of Fate, he did thier will, and he inflicted upon the tapestry of life his own rendition of art.

The body dropped heavily to the floor. The heavy rain covering the noise. He moved switfly across the tent to the locked box. Picking the lock revealed a sealed scroll. He withdrew the scroll and replaced it with another in his coat, relocking the box. Taking other valuables in the tent was merely a ruse. With any luck, they woudl not realize the trechery until it was too late.

[Volodimire]

"Runeweaver, I really need to..." Volodimire had begun to say as one of the sentries entered the group. He had wanted to tell him how he needed to speak to him of a private matter, to inform him of his diminished capacity. But, as always, Fate tugged its wicked strings.

The soldier collapsed at thier feet, barely able to breathe. His chainmail and leather had claw marks over them, and seemed as if they had been cut like a hot knife through butter. The smell of burnt hair and flesh was enough to make Volodimire gag. The mans voice sounded like a wind being raked over hot gravel, his words barely audible. "To the west... creature stirs... devours... burning... Tumult!" and then shudders violently before dying.

Volodimire looked over at Runeweaver and knew that he had to go. With a stern grimace and with no words between them, he mounted his stead and took off in a dead gallop towards the city of Tumult.

[Vret]

Vret had made a successful withdraw from the military encampment. It wasn't until he was far clear of the encampment that he heard the alarm and call to arms, no doubt from somone discovering the dead soldier. The mans blood still on his hands and knife, hearing the alarm made him think of it, and with that he smiled. And in spite of the cold, such murderous thoughts warmed his blood.

Careful not to leave a trace, he got back to his makeshift campsite and withdrew his hidden gear. There would be no rest tonight. No doubt they woudl send dogs and trackers in an attempt to find the assassin-thief. From his gear he took a swig of a potion of rejuvination, tightened his pack against his sholders, and headed up the mountainous terrain.

They would not catch him, at least not tonight.

[Runeweaver]

Patience resounds in prescious thought, as few could deny his undying resolve. Volodimire had forgotten who he was, and it disturbed him that his friends seemed so out of touch of his true self. While Volodimire dreamed of time, the Runeweaver dreamed of worlds. He had to be taught a lesson, brought to terms with who whe was, forced to remember. Things were already in motion, things only Volodimire shoud face. There was no time for second guessing, no time for remorse or regret.

Looking at the others at the others in the group, he knew that great hardships woudl lay ahead. As Volodimire left, he spoke to the others "Great visions have plagued my dreams, of kingdoms rising and falling like the ebbing tides, where even the mighty eventual fall. Take heed, my friends, for while the fire of my hearth may be warm... there will come a time when fire will no longer burn and water will no longer quench our thirsts."

He paused a moment, his voice echoing in thier heads "Become who we are meant to be, in all that we were and shall be. And though the path is not clear, it will unfold in time. Have faith, remain steadfast."

The group broke, the people when thier ways, thier other names erased from that moment. For them, it woufl be a dream wihtin a dream. Off in the distance he saw Volodimire gallop aware to impending danger, and he coudln't help but worry for his old friend. "Take care, my friend." Runeweaver said beneath his breath.

[Kaz]

Centuries had passed without note. Trapped inside his past Kaz had wondered alone within his mind. Outside the world had changed, Foret, Isonia and Darden were no more, the three Gods forged from the stolen power of the moons and of Intop had been all but forgotten.

Rumour spoke of a return of the ancient gods, who cast down the pretenders, but some rumours spoke of the mutual destruction of all of the gods, old and new. All agreed that no power currently existed within the heavenly plane. Tonan had become godless.

The destruction of Maxim and the Guildlands had gone by without note, thousands of lives snuffed out of existance during the collassal battles that anhialated gods, but they had not broken into Kaz's self imposed prison of introspection. Nothing would break into his mind until he was ready to let go.

Awareness had returned to him quite suddenly. Intop was rising in a beautifuly red-purple display of colour. For someone who had been locked inside memory for so long, the vivid collidoscope filled senses that had been devoid of life for so long. He looked out over the chasm, as far as the eye could see was a horizon of grey mountains. A thousand feet below him rushed the white foam of a river making its long journey from the spring in the mountains.

He knew where he was instantly although much had changed. The bridge had fallen, all that remained were two rotting posts at either side of the chasm. He had failed to defend the bridge and now it was gone, no longer was there a route to the city of sLAinte, he knew without doubt that the burning fury of the Losgadh Aineas had finally been extinguished.

He had sat there for hours, silent tears running down his burnt face, until the sun set once more over the mountains. With the return of the night, Kaz had turned his back and trekked towards the west, towards Fernabergia his ancenstral homeland.

Fernabergia was much as he had remembered it. White stone buildings fused with the living forest. Any other city would have been completely swallowed by the forest, but the elven magic that had created the city still held strong, even now, ancient and abandoned.

He had returned here with Volodimire after escaping the time bubble. In the eternity spent with the salvaged contents of Toros, they had finally established the nature of the Arian. Fernabergia had been built to protect the darklight crystal, and for millenia it had been protected by the elves. Until the goblin raiders of the Numi cult had destroyed his homeland. Only now, with the additional knowledge of Niurin and his banishment, could Kaz understand why his people had needed to be destroyed. They protected the one thing that could release Niurin. The Voice of a cult that worshipped the power that had been stolen to create the lord Darden.

Darden was gone, as were Foret and Isonia. Intop, Soma and Numi remained. Niurin would have been pleased to see this day.

[Volodimire]

The city of Tumult lay before him. It had taken several days of hard riding to get here, though now in seeing the devastation over the city he now wished he had taken more time. His stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and fear, but he staunched those feelings as he looked down in the valley below.

Tumult resides within a vale between two towering mountain ranges, with trees spilling down from the mountain peaks around the city. Starting from the city as the epicenter, half of this once lush forest now lay in ruin. Spindly charred remained spiral pathetically upward, stripped of its branches and leaves. He could see where some of the trees were still smoldering. The remaining trees appears as if pushed over, torn from the ground by thier roots.

He nudged his stead forward, cautiously inspecting the ground before him. Each step of the horses hooves crackled under dried and splintered wood. Taking his time, he nudged his was forward, terrified at the prospects at what could create such devestation.

[Vret]

G’rezsdha Vret pressed onward without rest, deciding to take his chance along the mountain pass. Little did he know this was a decision he would later regret. The pass slowly wound up through the mountains like a viperous snake, winding carefully around precarious ledges and boulders. Off in the distance he could hear the yelping of the dogs and the shouting of soldiers. There would be no rest tonight, or for the next night it seemed.

The next day was ever a little more colder than the day before. The ever increasing cold was sapping his strength, yet there was no time for rest. There was no warmth of a fire to remove this growing chill in his bones, and as he looked ahead the mountain pass wound even higher. Snow and ice lightly covered the rocky path now in small patches, making it that more treacherous. One false step and he would sure fall to his demise. And though he no longer heard the dogs, he pressed on.

Night fell to howling winds and bitter cold. There was no shelter for him to cling to, all he could do was hold on and pray for morning. Snow and ice now covered the path completely, obscuring the trail and his footprints that had brought him here. It was as if he no longer existed, his life wiped clean by the brutally cold winds of ice and snow. He grimaced, took another swig of his potion of rejuvenation and staggered cautiously forward. The cold was getting to him, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.