The night had come and gone with her sitting upon the battle hardened ground. All about her were littered the remains of the countless, the nameless, who had given their lives over for the very notion of war itself. That great machine which acted as the very motor to life and death upon the lands of Tonin. The wind had tossed her hair and caressed across her skin like a silent lover denied through the wee dwindling hours. At length she rose. Old joints popped hollowly in as the first rays of light touched the horizon. The sword, her sword, was not drawn this day. No, war would have to wait for the moment. Instead she leaned down and scooped up a handful of ash. Had it been the bones of a once great warrior? The dust of a hovel? The leavings of something insignificant? It did not matter.

Golden orbs shifted from the horizon to the ash, watching as it spilled between the digits and was carried off by the gathering winds. ”I have tread to other Guilds. I have tried to see the face of He who I follow through others eyes. What I have come to realize is that the Reality is this: All are demons as I suspected. Those who would curry favor and sidled close and whisper sweet nothings have shown themselves to be false. I am tired of denying what I know to be true. From the ashes of the lies it is time to resurrect the glory of what is Reality.” The ashes dropped. A hoof lifted and slammed down. The ground at first only absorbed the shock of such force. Though moments later a vibration was felt in the core of her. The ground shivered beneath hooves so that rocks bounced. A moment later she stepped forward. The ground burst upwards around her. Twin hands as black as pitch twisted from the soil, carrying her up higher and higher. Cradling her form almost though one taloned hand was curled over the top of one of the massive fingers. Still it rose until the beast was free to the chin. Mouth gaped wide as black ebony stoned tongue lolled forth as if bid entrance to those brave enough to step between the massive fangs and sharp teeth. The eyes glowed a hellish red. No breath issued from nostrils as it froze into position.

Her gaze dipped to the face below before she leapt from the hands, wings unfurling. A flex of powerful muscle and she banked sharply and vanished between those teeth. Not a scratch on her form. Inside this great beast was not fleshy nor gristly. It was of the blackest stone, yet when her wings folded tight against her back and hooves touched the stone ripples ringed around her as if the floor were of fetid blood. It resounded as stone. The walls were covered with the traces of veins. The catacombs of tissue stretched across expanses to make the walls and partitions. There was no reek of death here. Only the silent pleadings of countless souls which made up the walls. Limbs reached only to melt away again. Faces appeared, mouths opened in silent screams. Eyes wide in terror. They too melted away so that the walls seemed forever to shift. There was, for her, a sense of homecoming.

From the floor beneath her came the tentacles of her most beloved pet. Kry’taGar. It caressed her ankles and calves as she strode towards the great table in center of the dais. The table which doubled as an alter in times of need. When one needed released from the false shell of mortal make. For now it would serve to bring to this table those of Demonic Reality who heeded the call to enter these walls. Talons drawn across the white of the stone table. It was as alabaster as bone, bleached by countless ages and stained in center with the blood of endless beings. Her form slithered atop the alter. Writhed a moment as she arched her back, breasts lifted. Hands slid between her thighs and touched. Before they were slid upwards along her belly to twist the rings which pierced taut flesh. A heated howl of lust roared forth. The beast shuddered. The eyes blazed to flame at her cry of bloodlust. A pulse of dark energy sent out in a flash across Tonin. It would touch those who were as she was. Those who knew the meaning of bloodlust and honor. Calling forth those who would cast aside the lie of the heathen and face Reality.

Slowly she sat up. Eyes closed still, lips parted as fingers slid downwards again, though they did not touch at her most delicate flesh but gripped the blade in its sheath. A deft coiling of muscle and the expenditure of energy and she flipped back. The blade drawn in a smooth motion only to be buried to the hilt in the center of the alter, cum table. On one knee there, gazing at the entry way and waiting patiently. They would come. The time of shame was over. It was the dawning of a new age. Their age. ”Come to me. Let us taste the wine of life. Let us split bones and suckle the marrow. Let there be Chaos. War and blood I offer to you.” Kry’taGar rose up, the massive beast using tentacles to make her throne.

The pulse staggers the demon, his tall, inhumanly slender figure doubling over. Silk-gloved hands clutch at temples as Damondeer's head falls to the polished expanse of ebony that serves as his desk-top.

The incapacitation lasts a mere heartbeat. Damondeer's breathing is ragged as he straightens. Rising from the desk's chair, he crosses the pale expanse of marble towards his armchair. Settling himself down before the ever-burning fire, Damondeer reaches out to the decanter that sits atop the small table by the fireside. The liqueur he pours a generous measure of into the cut crystal of the glass is a deep ruby red in colour. He sips it, slowly, savouring the flavour, as his breathing returns to its normal calm pace.

Sensation washes over the demon. Warmth without, from the crackling fire. Warmth within, as the liqueur trickles down his throat. The feel of the linen shirt, soft against his flesh, and the stiffness of the high, starched collar.

And one other sensation. The call. The tugging sensation that pulls at him, draws him. Calls him away from the warm fire in the sparsely-furnished room of pale marble and ebony furniture. Calls him to a place of nightmare.

Draining the last of the ruby liquid, Damondeer rises from the armchair. Crossing to the desk, he picks up the sheets of vellum that lie, neatly squared, atop it. Spurious expenses claims to be filed that Verez might ignore them. Suddenly irrelevant. The dapper demon slides open one drawer of the massive desk as he slips into the chair behind it. The expenses claims are relegated to the depths of the drawer. Damondeer slides it closed again before opening a second. From the second drawer is removed a weighty tome, leather-bound with brass clasps.

Long, thin fingers undo the intricate clasps. The heavy pages inside the tome rustle as Damondeer turns them, pausing finally at one page in particular. The demon stares intently at the page for a few moments before closing the book and re-fastening the clasps. The book is replaced in the open drawer, and the drawer closed.

A top-hat is retrieved from its shelf inside the wardrobe, along with a silk scarf. Once properly-attired, Damondeer leaves his room, heading for the stables.

There was much that had changed in the world. There was forever change. One thing into another into yet another. Always there were things that demanded be done. Things which helped to pass the time and make life livable. Even for those not of mortal make. In war there were endless responsibilities to be delegated and relegated. Reports and scribes and orders and harvest figures and hovel production. There was the overseeing of defenses and training and building. The overseeing of all incidentals which took up the greater part of a given day and well into the night on many occasions. There were peasants to protect and taxes to collect. The offerings burnt at Temple. How many times had she been distracted from what seemed dire needs to deal with far more important ones? How often were things simply dropped from important to minor in the blink of the eye? Countless. Yet one thing remained above all things. Faith. Faith to her God, to her Guild. Faith unquestioned. There were so many faces to each God. So many view points. A diverse and odd gathering of beings with vastly different ideals that seemed to mesh together into a strong fabric. Darden, as a Faith, was held to the secret chambers of her cold demons heart. Cunning consideration had led her along the path to where she was now. Once a creature of anger and lust. Oh still that creature yet time had tempered such things. Had cooled them enough so that they no longer hazed her vision. There was, and always would be, the lust for war. The wanton moaning for destruction and mayhem.

It was simply that she had paused and really looked around her for the first time in so long. Had stopped and seen which way the Faiths had divided. Darden had become the Faith of hard men and women who did not fight the easy fight, but rose to the challenge against incredible odds. It was no Faith for the faint of heart. It demanded blood, sweat and, yes, tears. A great many of each. All of which watered the world and made it grow. A bitter tide at times. A joyous one at others.

These thoughts came from the dark places of her mind to be studied quietly as she waited. Already there had been a change in the pulse of the world. Already the winds had whispered discontentment. A slender brow rose as this was glanced upon. Was it so hard to dream with eyes wide open for some? Perhaps it was at that. There on the Throne she gazed across the expanse. Listening to the world around. Listening to the world within. Worlds within worlds spun across the micro verse of her mind. Spiraled across constellations to leave the inner eye stunned and awed. So many had placed importance on Land. On Worth. What use was being land fat and wealthy when it made one fat and lazy? No, war was not about land, it was about Power. That single moment of bliss granted at a good strike or a good defense. That moment when all seemed to be perfection and a satisfaction washed through the very cells of the body. Crashed like a tidal wave of utter and complete perfection. That tomorrow might reveal a crushed kingdom in retaliation was not to be focused on. It was what it was. But to have that feeling. To face the enemy not weaker but stronger and have rushed in with sword held high… . To have lived for a moment. To have been alive for that moment. It was something that would forever be held sacred and dear. Always at hand to be recalled over a warm fire and a cool drink.

Was that Faith? Perhaps it was, a part of Faith. It was a great part of her motivation. To run forward into battle with her Faith mates and Guild mates and share that feeling. To be a part of something great and wondrous. To be a part of something sacred. Sitting forward as the first stirrings in her gut came. One had heard already. She could feel the dark energy dimly in her soul. A hand lifted to summon forth a servant to bring refreshments. The soft creak of her armor as she settled back, chin atop of fingers as elbow rested on throne arm.

The world had gone to rack and to ruin.

It had not always been that way though, Andraste thought to herself as she walked the long hall. Once things had been so very different. Those days were gone and the edan - the humans - sprawled across the face of the lands. Once they had been a rare and unusual site in Medoc, when the fay Court in the forest had awoken the edan had been a plague. They had even had the audacity to claim that the lands of Medoc were theirs. She had soon seen an end to that thought.

Worse than the spread of the edan though were the elandili, the half-elves. They were everywhere, spreading their impurities like rats. How had they come to be in such numbers? She had never complained when such a half-breed was born due to the indiscretions of one of her own Court but now there were so many. They almost seemed to outnumber the elves themselves. Had perhaps every elf in the lands been bedding edan? The elandili were a blight that she would have gladly seen wiped out had it been within her power.

"But you took that away from me, didn't you Isolde?" She whispered in the quiet of the hall, looking down towards the end where a single banner had been hung upon the wall. The hall was known as the Lintesirien, the hall of the fallen, and it held all the banners of those that the Court had bested. Pride of place had been given to the banner that the fairy Queen looked upon, a banner of earthy green with a golden oak sewn upon it and a sun of the same colour above the tree. The banner of Isolde ap Belenus, the banner of the Court of the Midday Glade. "You took from me the chance to do so much when you bound my Court and I in sleep. Yet for all your cleverness it is I who have survived, it is I who will get the chance to shape what is still to come".

Long ago, before the encroachment of the edan into the region of Medoc the lands had been warred over by the two competing Courts and their Queens. Neither had been willing to submit to the other. Isolde had sought great battles and careful diplomacy to try and subdue her foe, but Andraste had dealt with matters differently. She had sent members of her Court to corrupt and confuse, even going so far as to turn creatures once loyal to Isolde to her way. Her plan had been a subtler one and would have worked if Isolde had not tried one last great gamble. A gamble that she had managed to pull off.

Andraste balled her fists in annoyance and glided towards the only table in the long hall, her bare feet never touching the cold stone floor. On the table a representation of Medoc stood, not a simple map, but a clever model that almost seemed to be real. It tricked the eye into believing that it was not a model at all, but a real image, that it was possible to reach down and pluck one of the inhabitants out of it. "My Medoc, all mine", the fairy woman purred to herself, amber eyes picking each and every detail of the model.

She had taken back control of Medoc, binding the edan that lived there to her will. Well if they insisted on trespassing in what was hers then they would just have to make themselves useful. Besides, they would make any passing traveller miss the change that had occurred. If the edan farmers still toiled in their fields then no one would notice the strange creatures that moved about the landscape or the figures that watched from the forests. Her creatures, her watchers. No one outside of Medoc could know that the Court had woken up once more, it could not be allowed. Or at least, it could not happen until she had decided exactly what to do.

The world outside Medoc had changed. There were battles of 'faith', people fighting for things they called 'Gods'. This was new to her. Perhaps they had always been fighting over such things but they had certainly never disturbed the warring of the Courts. She had sent some of the lesser members of her Court out beyond the boundaries of Medoc, demanding that they see the state of things.

The reports had not pleased her.

They had spoken of collections of forces known as 'guilds', armies drawn together to defend or achieve a single purpose. Such creations would not easily allow a single land to stand alone and unbothered. Andraste would not allow Medoc to be taken from her grasp, not again, not so soon after she had achieved -

The thought lay unfinished as the feeling struck her, the energy pulsating through her diminutive form. She cried out, not in pain, not in surprise, just a cry to vocalise the energy that rushed through her seemingly fragile form. "What is this?" Andraste whispered breathlessly as the sensation passed. The silent hall of the Lintesirien gave no answer. "What is this?" Still the hall remained silent, the banners of the fallen still upon their hangings.

Andraste's amber eyes grew bright as she drew herself up once again. A secret smile lit up her glamoured features. "My lord seneschal", she called back towards the entrance to the Lintesirien. "Ready my mount and tell Rin to make himself presentable, I must travel". There was again no reply, but this time Andraste had no need of one, Keteel the seneschal would obey her commands without question.

Yes, a journey, she would see for herself what lay outside Medoc. And she would find the source of the energy that had touched her momentarily. Find it and see if it truly did promise all that she had sensed.

Suspended upside down in the darkness, the demon's body shuddered in anguish. The rust coated chains bit into wrist and ankle alike causing rivulets of blood to drip to the floor below, the splashing droplets the sole sound in the subterranean hollow besides the fiend's ragged breathing. As he hung spread eagled in the shadows, Taldric could feel the presence of the Demon of Tismad. The God's bowl was flowing freely, the despair was a tangible thing in the room thick with the stench of death. The demon soaked it up, his mind cleared by the God's gift and bodily pain. He was thus plotting his reemergence amongst the heathens when a sickly sweet note added itself to Darden's melody. With a flex of muscles, the chains were split asunder, and Taldric dropped to land on the floor in a crouch. Torches took to light upon the walls as the demon issued a few commands. His minions left with the fading darkness. Looking at where the broken chains hung limp, he planned for their replacement- the temple of Darden could not be left in such a state of disrepair. But, the repairs would have to wait. A summons came that he had never thought to hear again.

Taldric flexed his most recent form as he donned his ebony armor. The platemail suit just adequately covered his ample height and shoulders broad. Jagged spikes decorated the armor that looked out with eyes of its own. The demon strapped a pair of greatswords to his back, and lastly donned his ghastly helm. Exiting the underground caverns, the demon walked to one of his more recent acquisitions, a great weyr. The spawning dragons quieted at his approach. A great black trumpeted then soared down to land beside his master. Taldric mounted the massive beast and patted a bony ridge.

We fly.

And fly they did, for there was to be a reunion. Heathen beware, a reckoning was brewing.

In the silence of her being came a familiar ring. A drawing near of one she not only found to be intricately adept at war and bloodshed, but violently skilled at the more cunning aspects of Tonin and all manner which rolled, crawled and slithered upon it. Taldric. That name which always brought the most vile and predatory grin to her lips had once again resurfaced. A hiss of breath given before her eyes drifted closed. Reaching out with her demon skills and feeling just briefly another. Brow furrowed as this newest glimpse of being was studied and picked apart by senses. The tang of Power seemed to be the forefront of it all. This delightful appetizer made the juices in mouth water. She was coming. She. Oh how sweet the thought. She. For there was nothing as delightful as a woman, the cradle of life, serving the forces of death and destruction. Those who should be the creators were often held higher, and looked to as special. So that when they lifted blade and split the flesh of other females and even the progenitors of the race in the form of the male it made then by far more vile and disturbing beings. There was a moment when her mind reeled at the sheer pleasure of such a thought. To know the joy of charging into battle at the side of another as soiled with the need to take and break and destroy as she held inside her breast.

There came the sound of metal set upon the table and her eyes opened slowly. They glowed here in this place. Pinning the servant with her glare. The table set with all manner of refreshments. One being a recently caught thief from one of Forets followers. His form had been skinned and beheaded. The bowl of his belly had been slit and drawn open to expose the wet cavity which was stuffed with all manner of meats. The rib cage was open like an improbable cage to show the pickled heart which still held its form, though it had been sliced very thinly and replaced back in the cavity. The lungs were stuffed with ground flesh and boiled. A most vile form of haggis. The hands were palms up and holding candle sticks as if to better light the display of treats offered to the coming beasts and beings. A nod of horned head in ascent to the servant. Approving of this offering which had been prepared. Soon the senses were assaulted by other bits of food laid upon the table. Great bony goblets were laid out to be filled with her favorite concoction. Though she would spare the Unseelie the drink if she so wished. There were other drinks to partake of after all. Though it was already known Taldric took as much pleasure in the drink as she did.

The flurry of movement of the servants came and went. They were not human servants. Oh no. She did not employ humans if she could help it, for they were far to frailer for her needs and wants and were often to costly to her in the long run. The lesser demons and devils. The imps and such served so much more efficiently and were easy to craft in her most loved workshop in the depths of the Black Ivory. That place which few demons had ever walked save herself and poor Maledict. He had been dragged down that long tunnel to the blackest pit of her intent and thrust into the womb of uncreation to force a new form. That one had vanished from the sewer that was Tonin. His disgust amused her to no end yet spoke volumes as to the true state of it all. For Maledict was demon and to walk away shaking his head at what he saw told her just how far into the refuse Tonin had fallen. Oh but there was always a way to turn things around. A purr issued across the room so throat it echoed upwards and outwards and tickled the ears of the souls which yet pleaded and begged unheard. They melted away for a moment as if drawing away from the very sound of that purr.

There had been vast wars in the time of Demonic Reality. There would be a great many more. They would break and crush and destroy everything which stood in the way of what should be. That which was was unacceptable to her now. It was unacceptable to those who had once walked this place with pride and honor. Still, that was a path she had already tread and would not revisit the argument now. No, now was the time to make preparations for those who had felt the call and were answering. Talons scraped along one of the tentacles causing the beast to shudder and mewl its horrid sound into her mind. ”Soon, my pet, soon, we shall take it back.” There was no doubt in her mind that this would happen. She would make it happen. It would be forced from the stony ground back to the pillar to be looked upon once again. Fingers skated across her chin as head turned towards the doorway. Forked tongue flickered from between sharp teeth and rasped across lower lip. Belly grew tight. Bloodlust rose in a deepening pool inside her. That which she had begun to think was gone returned with such viciousness that it sent a sharp cramp through her. A soft cry of pleasure as it buzzed and swooped through her mind and form. The want to war. The want to crush and kill. The want. The Wargasm.

Looks up from his research into the recent failing of the magic.. his eyes narrowing for a moment as he let out a low growl. He did not understand the call that he had heard, but something deep within him told him to go.. to answer it and he had no clue as to what it even was. He paused now, sitting back in his seat as he thought of the past few years.. how he had stood at the cusp of death.. only to make a deal with a god to keep his life, having given up his own soul.. for the soul of some mortal who had died by the name of Calix.

He studied the table before him, his work, his research into the magic.. the body of the human he had captured in order to try and fuel his magic with the creature's blood.. and none of it had worked. Then.. that pulse.. that feel of a place to go. With a snarl he rose to his feet, his chair crashing behind him as he moved to the stairs, taking them two at a time as the tall creature made it to the top of the stairs and grabbed one of his servants by the collar, "Go and ready my unicorn, I ride.. prepare an escort as well, you have ten minutes or you will fuel my next experiment."

Smirks at the servant scampers off.. going to prepare for his departure as he moved to change.. taking the time to draw his golden hair back free of his emerald eyes and he pulled on that cape of green so dark as to nearly be black. He took a few more moments to get something to eat for the trip and drink a bit of red wine before he walked out the doors.. looking to the courtyard where a large unicorn stood awaiting him, plates of armor hanging from its side, ironshod hooves with sharpened metal sprialing down its horn. He looked over towards the creatures waiting to follow after him and protect him, something the mixture of a bear and a wolf as he mounted his unicorn.. and without another word he rode.. heading towards the signal to find out what and who was calling to his soul.

The black hart's hooves clattered against the ground, the sound seeming out of place in the strange, desolate landscape that it travelled through. Andraste rode side-saddle upon the creature's back, one hand delicately tracing the swirls and patterns upon its great horns as she looked at the world around her. It was so different. so very different to Medoc. In its own way though it was beautiful to her eyes, the emptiness, the ash covered landscape, the lack of the filthy edan and their ways. Medoc pulsed with life, life that just waited for her to exploit it, to turn it to her own ends in order to please her. The land that she had come to was a very different place, it didn't answer to her whims, it answered to another's.

It was almost enough to make her turn back, that thought that the land belonged to another. She had grown used to being mistress of all she surveyed, to knowing that she had only to will something and it would be so. Here everything was different, here the land and its power danced to another's tune. She travelled through another's territory, one that she had no knowledge of, one who could be friend or foe. Yes it was almost enough to make the fairy woman turn away and seek the comforts of Medoc and her Court.

Almost, but not quite enough.

Still the thought of the pulse of power ran through her mind. It had promised much in the moment that it had touched her, reaching down into the deepest, darkest part of her mind. For a moment she had felt it press itself against her, whispering to her of all that might yet be. Of all that could be hers. If she wanted it, if she dared reach out for it and claim it for her own. Power, it was there. Power to change. Power to remake. Isolde had taken her chance to do it once, she would not turn away from a second chance when it was so temptingly laid before her.

She would find the source of the pulse, she would seek it out and discover the truth of it. Seneschal Keteel had not been pleased at the thought of his Queen travelling out of Medoc. The troll was ever protective of her, fearful that something would befall her if she was ever out of her sight. It pleased her to make him fret and worry, to know that no matter what had happened his loyalty still lay firmly with her. That was the way it would always be. he would remain loyal to her, just as all others in her Court did. If ever Andraste suspected him of less than perfect loyalty... Well there was always the Firnulmaien to deal with him, or worse.

Just behind the hart a second animal trotted, a mule, its little legs moving quickly in order to try and keep up. A small fay male perched upon the beast's back, his fingers twisted into the coarse mane of the mule. Rin had never enjoyed riding, perhaps that was why she so enjoyed forcing him to. The way that his little white face screwed up as he tried to concentrate on keeping his balance was worth any of the cruel tricks that the jester played upon the nobles of her Court. Her Court would gladly tear the kender apart if they ever thought that they could get away with it. And that was why she made sure that they couldn't. It was far more amusing to watch them squirm and struggle under his tricks, knowing that they feared her too much to do anything about the situation.

The jester looked a strange and comical sight upon the mule. Andraste had forced him to dress in a suit of blackest velvet and purest white cloth. If his dress had been in red and yellow he might have passed for some dwarfed jester in any edan's court. Instead, with his twisted face as white as chalk he looked like something out of a children's nightmare. A black and white traditional jester's hat was tied upon his head, silver bells jangling every time he moved.

"Now what do you make of that, Rin", she said, the black hart stopping suddenly. In the distance a strange thing seemed to sit upon the horizon, neither beast nor building and yet both to her eyes. It seemed to glare across the landscape, red eyes watching all that approached. What did it see of her, this red-eyed watcher? A fay woman, as small as an edan child and yet proportioned as an adult. Ears delicately pointed, a face framed by tresses of midnight black hair. A female dressed in all the colours of the sunset, but cut from a cloth so fragile and gossamer-fine that it might have been woven from spider-silk. A fay that wore a golden headdress that looked as though the metal itself had melted and reformed itself to gain her favour. What did the watcher see? What did it know, those red-eyes seemingly gazing across the land?

The mule stopped so suddenly that the black and white velvet-clad jester almost lost his grip upon its mane, He found himself pressed against the mule's neck, spitting out hair before he could reply. It took a moment or two for him to manage to speak, time in which Andraste studied the thing on the horizon further. "Well, my fine, fine lady, it looks like nothing that I can say I've seen in all my years. Do you think that this is the dwelling of the source?"

"Oh yes", she murmured, "Oh yes indeed".

A blurry vision flashed behind her eyes. A filter of claret so deep that at first a hand lifted as if to wipe away some spattered blood gushed across vision on the battlefield before that hand wilted back down and realization occurred to her. A furrow of brows as she sat up on the throne. Eyes narrowed so the golden color was dimmed just a bit. There. Just over the ridge moved another, two mounted. A hiss of breath, the softest exhale of word and the ground seemed to shift out there. To crack in a single spot and from the ash and bone cluttered ground rose a skeletal hand. The digits pressed through the layer of dust and decay and sent up a small puff of that which it had disturbed. A second hand joined the first by breeching the surface of the soil. One hand clad in a gauntlet of the blackest metal with razor claws that extended nearly a full ten inches. They cut through what bony material they touched. A ripping sound as the twisted and foul vegetation fought to allow this thing from it’s improbable birth, yet the roots could not hold it back now that its Mistress had summoned it forth. A helmet seen first. The helmet something born of a nightmare vision, the face, blessedly, mostly covered. Though one could see wayward scraps of flesh hanging off the shelf and jut of chin like grotesque pinions. The eyes were empty for a moment, as it struggled to free itself from the womb of the soil. Fully armored. It rose and took a step away from the hole it had been spawned from. Turning gaze towards those who had come. The eyes blazed with a sickly green light. A corpse light. It hurt the mind to gaze into those orbs. It stood there a moment before bending to lift up the missing gauntlet and drawing it over those gray filthy digits.

On left hip was hung a sword belt complete with scabbard and weapon. The hilt glowed a faint blue, denoting its imbue of magic’s. The skeleton stood silent for a moment. One hardly expected it to speak. It was a skeleton and not possessed of the crude implements needed to make speech. It took a step forward towards these beings. Gazing at them. On the throne Eisheth gazed through it’s eyes and watched. At last the jaw creaked open audibly. The voice which came was clotted with dirt and grit and grated unpleasantly. ”Come forth, you shall be unmolested.” The jaw did not drift shut but gave with a dull snap. The lower jaw tumbling over armor to bounce in the ash and settle there near the rubble of shattered and split armor. It picked up the jaw and stepped back. Allowing them entrance. Though she studied this pair. Oh the vision the fay made. That darkness in her soul stirred. That want of all. To own all. To take. To command. How it caused her breasts to heave a moment and talons to sink into the flesh of a tentacle.

The skeletal warrior was not dismissed. No. It had work yet to do. Others would come. Like the great eyes of her beast it would serve a purpose. Those which crept too close without invite would not be tolerated. As it moved the ground began to shudder and shake. In it’s wake rose a multitude of other skeletons. Some rose in armor, some without. Some rose not picked clean of flesh. One or two were still moist from their recent passing. All bearing weapons. They moved as a great clattering of stick against stick and seemed almost to bring a cacophony of battle lust to the soul. They lined the road, a most vile honor guard of greeters.

She eased back in the Throne, drawing talons from the flesh only to lap the ichors from the tips. Fay. That tiny form which screamed such violence and malevolent plotting. Those eyes which were possessed of such dark intentions. It did the demons black dead heart good to see such was still there. That the want was still there in others. Yes. To change. To cast out the infidels and rip from their grasp the mantle of leadership. To strop them into bloody piles for their indiscretions. Oh such thoughts chased through her mind like hungry demons intent upon devouring each other and themselves such was their excitement. Talons dipped to the heathen body laid before her on the table. Feeling amid the bits of meat as if it were a rich stew to be savored and plucked up a kidney. It was passed between lips, the teeth spearing and shredding it before she chewed thoughtfully. Licking the juices off fingertips before horned head canted slowly to the left. Golden orbs pinned her general in his shadow. ”Do not linger in the shadows, Sabian, it is rude.” Dryly stated. The blind elf smirked just faintly before coming from behind a partition of tissues. ”I sense Calix, yet he is diminished. Ready the blade, should he require freeing from a false form.”

Sabian bowed as fingers stole to the case tucked into the leather pouch at his hip. He was ready. Though Eisheth would not use the blade this day. This much he was certain. Had she truly thought Calix was trapped in a form unwillingly she would not have bothered asking. She would have ripped the false form apart with her bare hands. Calix. Sabian shuddered at the memory of the magician. Though it was not a shudder of fear, but of The Reckoning that was gathering now. As the sound of the skeletal army rose Sabian slipped back into shadow and waited leaving his Mistress to deal with the gathering forces.

Andraste clapped in delight as the skeletons broke free of the ground. She had not seen anything like it before. Her own force of the Hunt tended to have flesh and bone together, though there was at least one among them who did without skin. Her ancient enemy, Isolde, had always had such bright and shining soldiers, all dressed in bronze, fresh-faced and fair to look upon. Nothing at all like the skeletons, the dead of other battles brought back to serve. "At last", she laughed, the sound like a clear crystal bell ringing, a strange contrast to the landscape about her. "At last, a use for edans. Strip them of their flesh and put them to work. This way at least they don't moan or complain or try to run away".

"But my fine, fine lady, it can be fun when they run away", the white faced jester crooned.

"Yes you are right Rin, it can be fun when they run away. Of course", she smiled like a cat thinking of the last mouse it caught. "It is much more fun when they walk straight into your hands. Like a fly into a spider's web. They think they have their eyes open and yet they live in darkness, unaware of all but the simplest thing that goes on". The edan of Medoc had been very much like that before the Court had woken from its ages long sleep. They had thought themselves masters of the land, independent and proud, unbroken to any man's command. Andraste had opened their eyes, shackling them to her whims, tearing apart their unbending pride.

The fay woman waited a moment more, watching the skeletons still. "It would seem that we are expected, my jester, and it would not do to leave our host or hostess waiting overly long. I am eager to see what manner of person we are dealing with". The pulse of power that had drawn her to the forsaken land had seemed to promise much. Was there truth behind that promise? Or was it only the bait to try and lure her somewhere? The second option seemed an unlikely one, her Court had long slept under the earth, forgotten by those who lived in the sunlight. When they had finally woken the world had changed and all those that they had once known were gone. Even their enemies in the Court of the Midday Glade had vanished, gone from sight and gone from memory. So who was there left to try and set a trap for Andraste? None that she knew of.

With a slight tap on its neck, the black hart moved forward once more, trailed by the mule. The unpleasant voice of the skeletal messenger had guaranteed that they would not be molested. Andraste found herself believing the promise. Not out of any good will but rather out of careful thought upon the matter.

If the pulse had not been a most delicious bait to some as yet hidden trap then it had been caused for a purpose. What manner of purpose? To drawn together those with a similar view? A similar want? Those were questions that she could not yet answer, not yet at least. If she wanted to possess the answers then she needed to travel to the strange black tower with its baleful staring eyes. Only there would she discover the truth of it. Only there would she find out if the creator of the pulse was capable of giving the fay female exactly what it was that she wanted.

The tower soon rose above her, its eyes seeming to still stare out beyond and into the distance. Did it truly keep watch over the ash-covered lands? Did it watch for others that had felt the power of the pulse rip through them? Andraste had no trouble believing that there were others with similar designs to her own, to her they seemed only natural. Didn't all seek to fulfil their whims? It was just a matter of wanting something enough, of causing it to be through sheer force of will if nothing else. Finding such a will was a rare thing in the current time, or at least so it seemed that way from what Andraste's lesser Court had been able to discover.

She stopped before the fanged entrance, regarding it for a moment before dismounting. So the red-eyed beast was a dwelling of some description. Although it was not at all like the tunnel and chambers of her own dwelling beneath the twisted and will-o-the-wisp lit forests of Medoc. Rin practically fell from his mule, scampering to her side. There was little height difference to tell between the two yet Andraste towered over her jester. A strange contradiction. But where Rin stood with both feet upon the ground Andraste seemed to stand a good foot or so above it. It was as though the fairy Queen stood upon a second, higher invisible floor, her bare feet touching that instead. Her dragonfly-coloured wings remained close against her back yet still she did not touch the true ground.

"What manner of creature could create such a dwelling?" There was no horror or fear in the fay woman's voice, just a curiosity that wanted to be satisfied. Did all the dwellings in the land look like the tower? No, she had seen for herself what kind of dwellings the edan and their like built in her journey from Medoc. She had seen nothing like the tower with its great gaping mouth and burning red eyes. "Come along Rin, I wish to see more". She seemed to float as much as walk through the open mouth of the tower, the white-faced kender scuttling after her.

The inside of the tower was as unlike her own dwelling as the outside had been. The walls moved and reached out towards the two fay creatures, faces seeming to press through. It was almost as though the walls were made of fabric and the hapless prisoners were pressing themselves against it, trying to break through, trying to break free. Andraste drifted closer to the wall, watching intently as one face pressed itself outward, mouth wide open as if to scream. There was no accompanying sound though and the face soon faded back to be replaced by others. "Such interesting toys this one has, my fine, fine lady", Rin cackled. The jester walked up to the wall, watching it as his liege had done. When a face pressed itself forward he poked it in one eye, "Bah, lady, these creatures do not scream or even whimper. Do you think the one that owns them has stolen their voices as well as imprisoned them so? That would be a handy trick to know".

Andraste did not answer, instead moving onwards, getting ever closer to the ultimate source of the pulse that she had felt in far away Medoc.

The wind bit at Nether's face as he walked the long deserted path. Grim remains of lost souls littered the ground as unimaginable horrors soard in the sky above, and yet the young demon walked on. The trees slowly began thin out as he walked, the ground sloping ever downward. Thick lush evergreens gave way to dying wooden pillars, whose tortured limbs reached upwards as if beggin for a release from thier cruel existance. Strange beasts scurried to and fro hurring to hide from the ever watchful eyes from above.

It had been ages since Nether had made this journey, yet his memory of this place remained strong. The familiar putrid smell met his hungry nostrils as he walked deeper and deeper into the wasteland of Eisheth's domain. He could sense that he wouldn't be the first to arrive, that could be expected. The demoness was like a beacon of misery and hate, evil radiated from her drawing in all types of beings.

No he would not be the first, nor would he probably be the last, one thing he knew for sure. He would make himself be the most important being ot arrive. Full of arrogance and rage Nether stalked ever closer to the rugged spire before him.

Rode hard following that feeling.. and a brow raised some at the sight of blighted land around him, shaking his head slightly, not liking this but he had to go and see. He muttered a soft curse to his inquisitive nature as he continued to ride, thinking back on the years past, the destruction that had crossed his land, the war that had ravaged his people, blighting the growing of his crops and causing many deaths from starvation and plague. He had left his castle, leading his armies to meet those that would attempt to destroy him and met with complete and utter failure. He and his armies had not been strong enough, and in a duel against the general of the armies of his enemies he had been defeated and pierced with a sword of magic and iron. He had lived through it, but that life had been ebbing as the other army marched on to continue their march of destruction, leaveing him alone on the field to die.

He was laying on that field when he rallied what strength was left in his body, needing to fight against the death and wishing to live despite his failure and he called upon his magics, calling on Darden to aid him, to heal him. He got an answer in return, he would be healed, allowed to live and fight again. But there was a price that must be paid, he would take another soul into his own.. one that would one day gain control, but he wished to live, sure his magics would one day be strong enough to repulse this second soul and he agreed. That was when he met Calix, the man who had fought with DR time ago. He has lived with years now, with the soul of another within him.. and he felt a growing like for dragons which he couldnt explain, as well as sending out men to find a silver flute which he carried with him even now.

He let out a sigh again, shaking his head and bringing himself to the present as he rode up, finding skeletons before him and he allowed a brow to raise for a moment as he spoke, "I am Philant, I come here to meet with the one who calls. Let me pass."

There was a disturbance in her thoughts. The first had arrived. It was no unpleasant breeching but one which had been waited upon with bated breath. The braziers burned more brightly as the two took delight in gazing upon the souls which pleaded from the walls. Her attention split for a moment between three places. Nether had arrived, his coming was felt in the stony silence of her heart. The other, Philant, had taken step to the first skeletal warrior. It gazed at him with those corpse light eyes and stepped aside. ”Pass unmolested.” The great red eyes gazed at all and gave her vision of them. Though it was the two within she waited to greet.

Rising smoothly from the Throne of tentacles. It was known that there had always been a changing of Gods. One form into another into another. Though through this all she had followed one alone, had stayed faithful to one. The current Gods were gone now. The land a place of Chaos and upheaval. It was as it should be in the basest manner of things. Nature was constantly in a state of break down, this included society as well. Though of late the break down had surprised even the demon. It was as if the chaos had brought out the very worst in people and brought their cruel and callous natures to the forefront. Of course it could be said that they stood upon the cusp of a great change. That much was truth.

It was her nature to embrace chaos and to promote it to the fullest extend of it’s vast and unending uses. This she did with incredible pleasure. It tantalized her senses to see others fall from lofty positions and debase themselves. It also caused her soul to writhe in unparalleled ecstasy to sense what was coming. Demonic Reality would not be found wanting. Those that came now were no mere children with a large club and a cruel streak. They were cunning planners. Plotting and scheming down to the tiniest detail. This fae was no exception. She was the more dangerous of the beings in the land. The designs craved were no trifling thing. No small greed of land to build upon. But to take it all and rule with impunity. Such want was not to be ignored.

A thud as hoof was lifted and set down. From above came the blink of countless yellow eyes. There, ensconced, in the shadows of the unseen ceiling were her creations. The scrabble of claws, the dry sound of wings being shifted. Eyes lowered from those above to the entry way. Senses feeling Sabian nearby. There was no word spoken just yet as thoughts lapped across the small stature of this woman. Small in size but massive in ambition. It was what was needed. Ambition. The realm had fallen to the wrong sort of ambition of late and it would take a larger drive to force it back onto track.

All those who were coming were needed. All had the ego, the balls and the ambition which would fuel the chaos to its best aim.

The kender hurried along behind his mistress as Andraste moved upwards through the tower. His small legs felt as though they were burning as they climbed and the jester couldn't help but feel more than a touch of jealously. It was alright for her ladyship, she just floated, bare feet never touching the ground. There was no effort involved for her to simply will herself up the winding staircase, not like it was for him.

Rin banished the thoughts from his mind almost as soon as they occurred to him. He cast a quick glance towards Andraste's back but there was no change in the fay Queen. Sometimes he had to wonder though. Andraste was a powerful creature in her own right, even without the backing of the Court of Endless Twilight. Sometimes it almost seemed as though she knew just what he was thinking and exactly what he was planning. Which was all the more worrying when she did nothing to stop his tricks and torments upon the unfortunate members of her Court. For now he amused her and that meant he apparently could do no wrong. The time to worry then would be when he ceased to be amusing.

He had considered the problem before. There had been jesters before and there most certainly would be jesters after him, no one could hope to keep Andraste's attention forever. Those others didn't bother him, they were of little to no consequence. The ones that had come before him could only remind him of what tended to happen to those that lost the Queen's favour. Those that would come after weren't worth worrying about, they would find themselves in the same situation as him. Previous jesters in Andraste's Court had not made as allies beyond the fairy Queen herself, that was the way of things. So when the Queen withdrew her protection the rest of the Court tended to seek its revenge for the tricks and the jokes played at their expense.

Not a single jester before him had survived.

So how was he to pull off the greatest trick of all? To escape intact after the Queen grew bored of him? Well staying ahead of the damned troll Keteel would be a good start. That was just a short term thing though. No, when the inevitable happened he would need allies, people, powerful people, who would hide him from the wrath of the Court. Finding that though was another matter when he was practically tied to Andraste. Where the Queen went, her jester went, that was the way of things. Perhaps though, just perhaps he would find his own allies in the outside world.

Until then though, he would have to be careful and play things safely. And whatever he did he could not lose the Queen's favour, not yet, not until he was ready and truly believed that he could escape with his white skin intact. Rin had no intention of ending up flayed, his skin some talking point in one of the Tuatha's chambers. That would hardly be a fitting end for a kender who had played some of the greatest and cruellest tricks in the Court's history. Before him no one had dared to try and tweak the noses of so many and so varied. He planned on making his final performance one of survival after the Queen's favour, a trick that no other had ever pulled off.

The stairs gave way to a vast chamber finally containing the end to their travels. Their hostess waited for them standing before a throne that looked nothing like anything that Rin had ever seen. His knowledge of thrones was hardly extensive but the creation before them seemed to bear little resemblance to the construction of ebony and obsidian from which Andraste held court. The throne in the tower looked like it was alive, a melding of tentacles that grew up from the floor itself.

Much that they had seen in the tower and its surroundings was new to the white-faced kender. There had been little that had reminded Rin of the green fields and dark twisted forests of Medoc. Of course the forests of Medoc were a strange thing. While the Court had slept, bound in bespelled slumber, the forests had been green and glorious in the eyes of the edan. Andraste had changed all that though, passing on her own blessing to them so that they more suited her whims. Now the forests were dark and muddled, their trees twisted and bent. Dark things skittered and called within the shadows and even in the height of the noonday sun the only light beneath the boughs was as sickly and pale as marsh-light.

Their hostess, well there could be no mistaking that the demoness before them was the one that Andraste had sought out. Rin thought that he could be blind and still have known her for the source of the power that had reached his mistress. No, there was no mistaking her for anything other than the source. Only a fool would not realise what the demoness was capable of. The jester wondered what had happened to those that had ever tried to cross her; the thought of it brought a wide, vicious grin to his face, a black knife slash in the white of his skin.

Rin stepped forward and abased himself, intoning, "Andraste ap Tanaith, Queen of the Court of Endless Twilight". He knew his place in such a meeting. He was nothing to either woman, fay or demon, just a means by which the formalities could be dealt with.

Nether's snow white skin glistened in the pale moon light as he moved ever closer, to his rightful place, behind and to the right of his queen. He would not accept any other position, any who dared challenge him would regret it. Nether sought no position of power or glory, instead his blacj heart yearned only to be close to his queen. Her scent, her form, her madening glare, all churned his insides like a caldruan of cursed blood. With his black cloak drapped firmly around his shoulders, the young demon arrived at her keep at last. With eyes closed he stepped infront of the door, and waited. He knew this place all to well, the layout etched into the back of his mind like an unfading tattoo of misery and pleasure, wrapped in a ball of malice and love. Here he would wait until he felt either her hand against his flesh or her voice echoing through his skull. He dared not enter unannounced, even as arrogant as he had become, he knew not if his queen would recieve him well or even remember him. His form had reverted back to the elf, the demon twisting and raging below the surface. He had once again, after her departure and the departure of Crynus, lowered himself in the ranks of the Isonian hypocrites he had grown to despise and ravaged the lands of the darden hoardes he once swore allegence. This thought broiught a small grin to the young demon's lips. The look of betrayal and confusion on thier faces as his blade swept through thier bodies. He held no loyalty to any god or faith,he held true only to the urge to be by his queen

There was no movement as the kinder abased and spoke. That gaze did not drift down to the smallish figure who was flapped across the cold stone that was not stone at all. The Throne shifted, the tentacles began to withdraw beneath the surface of the flooring. It was a stealthy motion and it ceased to move, ceased to wriggle a tip of tentacle from the floor beside the kinder when a single talon lifted. A warning perhaps. There was warning to her pet, for it was not known to care of fondness of ownership and sought only to pluck this tidbit from the proceedings taking place. It was a vile creature and deep inside that inky darkness it dwelled within ghoulish green eyes glowed with a light to intense yet it penetrated only inches in that stygian darkness. Unseen by those above. Teeth clacked like stones, unheard save by the lurking Sabian. His head tilted just a bit, listening to the frustrated rebuke to being denied a meal. Eisheth did not allow herself to be distracted by this. Golden orbs danced over the fay before her. Scanned not merely her eyes but her soul as well. The black tendrils hissed softly from the sooty shadow which she cast from the dull lights of the braziers. They did not touch her or the pet she had brought. Her herald replete in his black and white costume crafted as to be, no doubt, amusing and humiliating at the same time. A trickster. Perhaps she would teach him a few tricks if given the chance.

An inwardly heated purr at such a thought. At last her thoughts turned to Andraste ap Tanaith, the Queen of the Court of Endless Wonder. Those eyes which held within them the very drive to have everything she desired. A darkness in her spirit which was as sweet to the demon’s being as the taste of an innocent infants flesh was to the taste buds. Yet there was no mere small plan she sought, no this one plotted such devious machinations as to plot for the long term. At last she blinked and allowed lips to scythe upwards into a killers leer of pleasure. Forked tongue flickered slowly between teeth before she spoke, the words no mere common language but a far older one. A language rarely heard upon the Isle these days and never from anything that was not demon. Seeking to see if she would hear and understand what she spoke, seeking to see if she was, indeed, as vile as a demon and thus granted such knowledge. ”Welcome, Andraste ap Tanaith. I am Eisheth, Demoness of Zidonian. Whore of the Underworld and Disparager of the world of man. And Guild Mistress to Demonic Reality “ Those words spoken caused the creature they stood within to shudder softly.

The walls released of their silence for only a moment screamed their fear and grief, it caused Sabian to wince and clap hands ot his ears in response, going to his knees as if his ears had been pierced with needles. Though as quickly as it had come it was cast off again and silence reasserted itself so suddenly it seemed the world had been struck mute for a moment. From the darkness above the countless eyes gazed down more intently. It was not often she spoke such words. The first time she had given hint as to the origin of her creation or even a tiny flicker of vision to the things she was capable of. For those of demon birth who were as old as she would know exactly what had happened to Zidonian. It was, even for the underworld, a cursed and bleak place now. This had been her doing.

Horned head did not bow to Andraste, for she bowed only to the One she worshipped. Though she would kneel to those who proved themselves with great acts and deeds. The introductions had been made. She had not summoned Sabian from his niche to make hers, not that she felt him above such a task only that he would have served as a distraction and she had no desire to have him distract from this first meeting. Sabian was, afterall, an elf who was as old as time itself it seemed, yet carried not the look upon a face which was darkly beautiful.

Talons curled against the palms of her hands as she motioned the fay to take a comfortable seat so they might speak on matters and find the common ground which had drawn them to one another as it had. Though her gaze did lift to the way she and her pet had entered. Eyes narrowed only a moment as forked tongue danced out to taste his intoxicating scent. Nether. How wise he was to wait invitation. The last lesson was with him still, and the scar as well. A hiss issued into his mind. ’Come to me, Nether. It is good you have returned to my side. I shall, however, be forced to shred that flesh from your form to rid it of the reek of the bitch Goddess.’ This was accompanied by a purr of laughter before she took her seat upon that throne once more. Nether. He had been at her side from the beginning, and while he had walked with the heathens he had retuned to her now. It was, that act of taking the lands from once faith mates, that had served her Lord the best. He was loyal to her and that mattered.

Kry’taGar slipped tentacles further beneath the floor, radiating endlessly there like some vast understructure. Her gaze returned to the fay women. ”Tell me of yourself?” Though she itched to explore dark pathways with this fay. To see firsthand the skills she so obviously possessed. A glance now spared her pet, Rin. Gazing at this cunning trickster intently. Eyes slipped against to his Mistress. Yes, she wished to know everything.

The brazier light slanted through the tissues of the Tower, yet were unnoticed by the man kneeling on the floor. Face reposed in silent thought. Oh he was not looking internally for some mystic message or even answers. Only exploring the path which had led him here, to this place... at this time. Once he had been the General of a Queen. A very paranoid Queen who held onto her pride as if it were made of glass to shatter. He had loved her, deeply so. She had taken him as a General because he was beautiful and cunning. Often showing him about as if he were some prized possession. Taking pleasure in the jealous stares of others. As if she took credit for the genetics which had created him to grow into such a face and form. He had remained as her General for years. Never had the discussion of further intensity been roused by either. Content to have the companionship of well fought wars and battles between them.

But paranoia leads to many dark paths. Jealous underlings began to circulate rumors of plotting to his Queen. It had not been true. He had sought to assuage her distrust and had made the mistake of intoning his love for her and informing her that love would never allow him to betray her. He had kissed her then. But that kiss had been a grave mistake, and in a fit of anger she had ordered his eyes removed. It had been horrible. Utter pain. He had endured, even as she whispered that he would never look upon another as he had once looked upon her. Had he the tear ducts to weep...he would have. For it meant he could no longer gaze upon her either. She had ordered the finest craftsman to create realistic eyes from marble. These he wore even now. That seemed to staunch her paranoia, his blindness. Yet inside his heart had not been sundered in twain by her lack of acceptance in his love for her. He was not worthy to be held so high in her presence. He was a mere mortal being. Though in her presence he had not been ravaged by the tests of time. Had not aged at all save mentally.

If anything his love for her had grown far more deeply a thing. In his blinded state she had not cast him from her side, instead she had shown patience as he learned to fight once again without the benefit of sight. It had made him stronger in the end and he knew in that secret place most males hide from all, save themselves, he knew she did know a love for him as well and that was all he needed. He could not gaze upon her with sight, though he saw with something far more reliable. There was a ferocity in his loyalty to her. A bond which would not be broken. He served her in war, in peace. He always would. There was fear she would one day grow tired of his face and presence and lay him out and pluck heart from his chest, though the fear was not of dying but being removed from her sight in the final act of death. Perhaps it was this demand that he not be away from her that fended off the very effects of time. He did not know, did not ask. It was enough he was still here, kneeling and listening to her converse with this new entrant into the Tower.

{OOC:My joining DR takes place after the events of Echos and whispers(which haven't been written yet)}

She'd cried salty tears and she'd screamed to the heavens her hatered and anger. She killed any that dared cross her path. Nothing stemmed the flow of hate in her veins and nothing dispelled the fog that had wrapped itself around her heart. She looked no different outwardly save for her skin was as white as the purest snow and the delicate and translucent wings looked ragged, but in time that would change. No, all the changes were inside.

She lay on the cold rocky ground high up in the mountains near Aemanthaties. A scent on the frail breeze caught her attention. Slowly she opened her watery blue green eyes, wrinkled her nose. Something began to pull her. A silent call heard by her ear only.


She began walking slowly down the mountains. The journey would be long and tiresome but she'd make it. She didn't know where she was going, her feet seemed to know the path well enough though.

Andraste smiled to herself. Yes here was the source of the power that she had felt back within her own dwelling. The source of a pulse of strength and promise the likes of which had never assaulted the fay Queen before. Dark power and secret promise, both appealed greatly to the diminutive fairy woman. Since awakening from their ages long enchanted sleep Andraste had realised that much had changed in the world. Filthy edan had roamed the region of Medoc, a land that by right was hers and no others. Things called 'Gods' affected the entire lands. Men and women sought shelter together under a single banner rather than testing themselves in single combat. It was all most curious.

She had seen some seem to give up their chance for total power out of fear. Some were still willing to risk all while others hoarded and carefully protected what they had. Fear had swept away so much of the land, a fear of change, a fear of what waited on the horizon. Andraste had never feared the future, it was an uncharted land, that was certain, but a land that she intended to make hers. The fay Queen was ambitious but she would far rather overreach herself and risk everything that hide within her dwelling for fear of change. Change was not a force to be feared, it was a force to be grasped and held close, welcomed like an old friend for what it would bring.

And the creature, the demoness, before Andraste, truly was a one of change, one who knew its strength and power. Before her stood one who did not fear the forces of change, one who would risk all to grant the forces of change access to the ordered, careful lands of others. Andraste approved.

The two females looked upon one another, judging, weighing, seeking to see if the other was the ally that they sought. When the demoness spoke her words brought forth screams from the until then silent walls. Rin, grovelling upon the floor as was his place, squirmed in upon himself as if he sought to escape the words. The jester's face was contorted in fear at the sounds about him. Andraste watched unmoving, at her jester's pain, allowing him to suffer. It did the white-faced kender good to know that his Queen would not always protect him from the forces that might seek to bring him harm. If he came to rely upon her favour too much he would become less interesting, less amusing. It was better to allow him to be reminded of how fickle her favour could be; it was not yet time to start the game by removing her protection from him completely.

"Well met, Eisheth, Demoness, Whore, Disparager, we are well met indeed". It did Andraste good to know that such a creature as Eisheth existed. When first she had sent her followers to seek out information about the world that they had awoken to, the fairy Queen had despaired. Everywhere there had been filthy edan, humans as they called themselves, everywhere they had reached out with their wrinkled, aging fingers. Some had even dared to think themselves masters of Medoc, a region that was hers by right of combat and survival. Well she had dealt with that problem, the edan of Medoc now knew their place and that was firmly beneath her heel. Ideally she would have liked them removed altogether, killed on the borders and set there as warnings to others of their kind. But the edan had their uses, and they ensured that her Court had plenty of 'playthings'.

So the edan of Medoc lived, or rather existed. They were wide-eyed fearful things now, terrified of the dark or rather of what it might bring. They had found their place within her rule and that place was at the very bottom. The edan were now little more than dogs, base creatures that begged for scraps of food and favour from the fay. It amused Andraste to see the once proud edan brought so low. They had dared to think themselves masters of Medoc, now they were slaves to the Court and its passions.

And so the demoness wished to know of Andraste? Eisheth had sent her out her power and now wished to know what manner of creature her line had caught? "You wish to know of me? I am Queen of my Court, a gathering of fay creatures, a gathering that might be called Unseelie. Once, long before now, we warred for possession of the region of Medoc with those who are our polar opposites. Long were the wars of the two Courts, dreadful and pleasing at the same time. Alas my opponent drew weary of the battle and the destruction, seeking peace". Andraste spat the last word out, disgusted at how the battle between herself and Isolde had ended. Isolde's father, Belenus, would never have sought a peaceful end to their long war. Of course he had been a far more difficult opponent, one that Andraste had killed through more devious means.

"My opponent worked a great magic and bound my Court in sleep, a sleep that she had thought eternal. She set her strength to that of the edan who were just then coming to the lands of Medoc. Sometime during our sleep Isolde and her Court vanished from the lands, leaving care of Medoc in the hands of the edan. And also leaving care of the spells that bound my Court to them. That was foolish of her. Edan are weak and too easily forget their responsibilities. They age and die before they have passed on all their knowledge to those generations that come after them. As a result the spells holding us weakened and eventually shattered, unable to hold us any more".

"Medoc is now mine", the fay Queen declared possessively. "As it always should have been. But I am no longer satisfied with its confines. The world beyond Medoc needs to be cleansed of the edan and their allies, of their weakness and their fear. I would see it done, but my power alone is not enough to bring it about".

Andraste met the demoness' gaze without fear or flinching. "There is one other thing that I desire though, something that also requires me to seek out similar allies to myself. And edan once told me of the 'Gods' and of something called a 'soul'. This last I seek for myself".

A slender brow rose at those final words. A soul? Tempted to part lips and speak of such, though for the moment thought ruled over voice. In all the centuries I have been aware never have I seen the use of a soul save as food or dark intentions. These souls which so many humans and elves cling to as if some last lingering hope that there is something more out there. How long has I been upon the world? Countless. Before there were men and elves. I slumbered through whole beginnings and endings of races. Even the undead are as a blink to me. Reputed to be immortal yet even they succumb to the ravages of time and return to the dust. Perhaps the soul is Chaos. For I come from Chaos. The basic element of all that is now and ever shall be. The spinning of energy into form. Some forms simply were created more perfectly to work with the designs of Chaos and others merely a secondary blink of random creation that served no purpose and thus vanished to be forgotten. Though those who vanished were not gone fully. Their energy morphed to yet other forms. Forever shaping and reshaping itself. The soul is Chaos. That tiny spark which crafted flesh and bone and broke it down to soil and clay then into flesh or stone. All things, therefore, had a soul. Including the petite fay before her. This swam to the surface of herm ind. Yet the question rose with it. Do I tell her she already has one? Instantly the answer rippled like a dark flood through her being. No.

Better she discover it on her own, it was a quest which would force her to think and rethink and to explore all pathways laid out before her. It was an integral part of all beings that they seek within themselves and their surroundings the answers to those questions which seemed, at the moment, most relevant. This was what she was all about. Had always been about. It was the basic coding in all things. To look skyward and ask the questions which Chaos had set forth into motion in the very creation of all things.

Most beings knew of their basic creation, where they came from, or so they told stories as if it were fact passed through the generations and sent onwards to the next with utter faith. Her own beginnings were of Chaos. There had been nothing and then there had been awareness. Instinctively she had sought to rise up from the womb of her birth and seek to spread chaos and destruction. To break all things down to their base forms and release the energies to be reshaped forever and ever. They all had such drives built into them. It was the side effect of Chaos. The lingering touch which gave them the drive to stride into battle and to kill and take and claim. It ruled the heart and led the mind. No action was taken that was not meant to bring about the ruination of something. To the tiniest thing to the grandest. The will was free, or so many of the humans and elves spoke these days. Yet were they free completely? Oh there was choice yet each choice was destined to change the course of yet another thing in a domino effect of chaos. One blade of grass plucked would mean the ending of a life elsewhere. There was no design in this, it merely was. An ever changing throbbing pulse of shifting energies.

Demons were no stranger to the changes in the world. They had witnessed it all. Or so some purported. Though she even had her doubts of this. There was no stating when the Demons had come upon the world. No saying when Chaos would shift in a strong direction and they would be myth. Yet she was demon, given to destroy and kill and devour. The element in physical form given will and drive and strength. A merciless thing which did not know sorrow for destroying and maiming. She made no excuses for what she was. The Reality was simple. All things were made to be destroyed and broken. If such meant subjugation of a race it was made so. If it meant she would feast upon the last few of a race, she did such not with regret but pleasure. They possessed every inch of land, soil and water. The demons were of air and flame. Of hate and violence and yes, even love.

What greater form of Chaos was there than Love? It destroyed the will in a blink and caused the most violent wars to spark and toil across the lands. Lust and Love. Then above all. Faith. They were the very purest form of faith in Chaos as well. Faith was the greatest tool used by Chaos, for it caused far greater wars and acts of atrocity. It sent countless thousands of souls (Chaos) back to the eternal to be reshaped and brought forth again. It was sinfully delicious. The very act of Faith was chaotic. One humans beliefs were another humans offense. It was what drove the soul. That Chaos which acted and reacted, forcing change and constant creation and destruction. The soul connected them all. It was why her belief had come over the years to be that all beings were of Demon make, lesser Demons who appeared and winked out in the span of a few ages. The very appetite to destroy everything they touched proved this to her, for they were incapable of knowing peace. Though inwardly she chuckled at such a notion. Peace was the greatest illusion. It was the single greatest farce and sly cunning face of Chaos.

An idea which would never be tasted, even in those moments where a Guild was building they did not know peace. It went against everything they had been created for. This small fay did not yet grasp this truth. This reality, though she was old. Not a wink in time.. there and gone again. There had never been the study of such notions yet. Golden orbs gazed intently at her, forked tongue flickered softly in consideration before her lips parted and voice spilled forth. ”The search for soul… So many search for it. So many reach for it. You shall come to see the truth of the soul eventually, Andraste ap Tanaith.” Talons stroked along the tentacle as Sabian stepped from his place of silent observation. A purr given voice as the blind elf moved just in the edges of the shadows. His footfalls silent.

So her enemy had vanished? Leaving the humans and elves to tend the slumbering fay and her court. A foolish thing indeed, though the humans were so short lived. As short to her as the lives of may flies to the humans, and just as annoying in most instances. Though they did serve to sate her lust and bloodlust upon. ”The humans and elves have forgotten the past, it is the way of all things. I have memories of races which no being alive today could even recalling having heard of in a story. They have passed beyond myth and simply faded away into obscurity. The mind of the human and elves are not bothered by such things. They forget it all or simply make it up as they go along. Medic is yours, as you claim and I have no desire to attempt to claim it myself.” There was no holding such a thing. There was holding dominion over it, yet it could be easily wrested away in the turning of a thought. Medoc belonged to Medoc. She would rule over the Lands, yes, though even she was ruled by the cold hand of Chaos.

”Humans and elves have soiled this land, though in such actions they are forcing about a great upheaval. As happened long ago. You recall that time. It shook the very foundation of the realms and when it was done we were left with the realm of Tonan. Now that rumbling is felt again. Will such happen with Medoc? It happened with Arcadia. Closing it off from the realm of man forever. Perhaps this upheaval shall sever this realm from that and leave you stranded. Who can say? What is coming now, what rushes upon us is the chance to take what we will. To drink our fill of blood and sup upon the flesh of desecration. To wipe the humans and elves from the face of it all and see the birth of the new races.” Pausing as Sabian slipped up to her side and knelt. Her talons stroking through that black hair, tangling lightly. ”Though they are an enduring lot. We shall have to be diligent.” No apology made to the elf at her side. Though it was not hard to see the Demonic features which had slowly begun to press themselves forward against his flesh from the inside. Her corruption was slow with this one, a sweet torture. Reaching down and plucking a bit of heart from the open chest cavity of the heathen laid out for the feast, chewing it slowly.

Taldric had left his mount with the discovery of the heathen messenger and had continued unbothered by the throng of undead. They had seen one of their own, recognizing him by the aura of corruptness that suffused his being. Unhindered, the demon crossed the barren expanse and, at long last, made his entrance to the source of his summons. Although the queen of this unholy sanctuary undoubtedly knew of his arrival, he slipped silently into the living structure. The fiend had always been fond of a dramatic arrival, and he saw no reason not to give an apt first impression to those already gathered.

He crept along far reaching passageways ignoring the tortured souls that seemed to be held all around him, for the demon had witnessed them before in ages long passed. After some indiscriminate time, Taldric drew near the room of the feast. Coha cobu sa vora
, the demon incanted causing a shroud of flames to cascade all around his heavily muscled frame.

Taldric entered the room with flames rippling across his form. Red, and orange, and yellow the fire raged, though his eyes gleamed the brightest of all as he smiled upon the one mounted on the throne. The demon drew his swords and held them crossed at arms length before him, one still coated in the ichor of the slain messenger. My blades are once again yours to command, M'Lady , he swore, though he wondered what the demoness' response would be to the last, the title. The image of a supple maid the word provoked did not much suit his mistress. While the subtle barb was not so subtle, the sentiment of his words was very true. Her will...was his.

Andraste watched silently as first the demon bathed in flames entered and pledged himself to the demoness and then as another, wreathed in ice and chill, stood beside the throne in silence. The demoness Eisheth had gathered to herself powerful allies, and from the looks of it males, to do her will. Yes, that was fit, the demoness was as true a queen of her demonic followers as Andraste was of her own Court. And all queens had to have those that followed their will, that went before them on bended knee to listen and obey. After all what was a queen but a woman who had the power and the will to gather such followers? And not only gather them but keep them, bind them to her will and forge them into a power that would see their whims and wishes done.

Forge them into a force that would shake down the very pillars of heaven if that was what the queen required.

The fairy Queen smiled to herself, yes she had been right to follow the pulse of power back to its source. How else would she have discovered such strong and capable allies as those that Eisheth had gathered together? Though it rankled even Andraste had to admit that she was sorely in need of allies. Medoc was hers as surely as the flesh and minds of any of her Court were hers to do with as she pleased. But the world that she had woken into was a far different one to that she remembered from times long past. No longer would the edan and their ilk leave her in Medoc to her own devices. They would pry and peer, sending in spies to look at what she had under her rule. Already they had crept in, filthy edan, daring to step foot in what was rightfully hers. There would come a time though when their greed to set them to more than simply looking.

Her Huntmaster and his forces were powerful but Andraste knew that they could not hope to stand against all the forces of the edan and their kind. She could throw every goblin, every red-cap, every phouka, into defending Medoc but still her forces would be washed away under a tide of edan. How she hated that thought, that the edan and their allies could divide up her lands and use them to feed their own unending greed. How dare they even think to step into Medoc? But that was the way of the world that she had woken into, the strong took what they wished without a second thought. Well she would simply have to ensure that she was strong enough to keep what was hers.

And if that meant allying with demons, then so be it. Better to ally with demons than sit upon her black throne waiting for the edan to swarm like insects upon Medoc. Better to make herself and her Court strong enough to hold back the tides of the edan. Alone she might hope to hold the forests against those that came against her, letting the farmland and villages slip from her grasp. The twisted forests of Medoc were a barrier to the edan, a barrier that she could probably hold against all that sought to batter themselves against it. But with allies like Eisheth and her demons it was a different matter. With such allies she might truly seek to see her will come to pass, a cleansing of elvenkind, a purging of the weak and aged edan. It was a most delightful thought.

Not to mention her search for what the edan called Afin had called a soul. A soul. She had never heard of such a thing before Afin had been brought within her dwelling and presented to her Court. From what she had discovered since then she still had no idea as to what a soul actually was. The few edan that had been 'questioned' had babbled something barely coherent, something about the soul being the part of the person that went on after death. As if anything could exist after death! The person died, the body decayed and was returned to the lands, nothing 'went on'. Everything that the dead one had been was returned to the lands, all their memories, their personality just disappeared, drawn into the dark oblivion of death. Or at least that was what the Court had always believed.

Yet what if they had been wrong? What if such a thing as a soul did exist? Something that allowed the person to somehow escape the nothingness of death and somehow continue. Andraste had never feared death, she had given it little thought save to plan the endings of her enemies or those that had fallen out of her favour. But what if death did somehow touch her? If she had a soul in her possession then she would be able to cheat the oblivion that had always been promised to her people. She would continue, all that she was and all that she had been would endure.

Yes she would endure.

"The edan and their allies, the elves who pay allegiance to no Court", the idea was almost enough to make Andraste shudder with revulsion. Almost. The thought of so many fay who had not bowed to one Court or another, so many free wills that had not been bound to the desires and whims of another. "They have indeed brought ruin to these lands and in doing so have called down a power that is far beyond them and their comprehension. Yet still they think to avoid it, thinking that if they can just grasp enough that they can somehow best it. They think to beat this upheaval and change by giving into their greed, as if mere force of arms could ever protect them".

It was foolish but it occurred all about the land. There was no force of soldiers in the entire land that could stop the inevitable or turn back the tides of the great change that already drew itself up, ready to crash down upon the isle. Those that thought to protect themselves with steel and great stone walls would find out the futility of it all eventually. The change that was coming would throw them all down, would destroy all that thought in their pride to stand against it. All that could be done was try to ride the waves, to join with the terrible changing forces and not fear what it heralded.

"All too soon is the past lost in this world where the edan hold the majority of the strength. They are too fleeting, their lives over and finished in practically a blink of an eye. In such a world it is not surprising that all that has been is forgotten, in a world when even the deeds of a generation past are lost or at best twisted beyond the truth. I have heard an edan boast that his grandfather once slew a dragon, when in reality his grandfather killed nothing larger than a fox. They are all too quick to change and boast, to make a victory out of defeat and to think themselves and their power immortal and unchangeable".

"But nothing is without change", the fay Queen said, smiling.

"To wipe the edan and the elves from this world, yes that would be a most fit thing to do. Although perhaps a few small pockets of them might be spared. After all", her smile grew wider, "There is always a need for sport".

Flame and flesh and violence. There were few things which pleased the sense more. Taldric had arrived, a pyre against greed and affluence. Not a word spoken between them as the young demon took his place at her side. Talon tipped fingers stroked down along one blazing calf and gouged the flesh playfully. Life was nothing, if not painful. Her gaze glittered like molten suns as Nether entered. Icy. Frozen and cold. There was honesty in his talents. A truth which could not be denied. In the end the cold of grave awaited all men and creatures alike. Though she felt the mounting tension between Nether and Taldric once more. There had, it seemed, always been a rivalry between these two that was delicious to her. It made her triple breasts heave with anticipation and lust. Not that they fought over her. By the One True Lord that was hardly the case, such flattery was without use to her. What thrilled her to no end was the fact they embodied strife and anger, bloodlust and desire. Take and hold. Claim and control. They were Demons and perfectly crafted ones at that. Her gaze traveled over Nether’s form as icy breath steamed against her neck. The tendrils of black mist wrapped upwards about his thighs and waist and squeezed violently in a tease. ”Nether, Taldric, it does the cold dead heart good to see your forms again. One who travels from the studies of pain and torment, the other who returns from the studies of warfare and destruction. Let us speak of matters which now surround us on this realm.”

Yes, they gave alliegance and it was to be savored. They were both formidable beings and to know they would serve her will and desire did cause her mind to reel a moment before her attention returned to Andraste. ”The edan, the humans, and the elves have corrupted the lands. This is true and while, for the edan at least, their lives are fleeting they amass a great will to destroy everything they touch. Greed and violence is the very base of their everyday lives. They are incapable of being content with anything. There is always the drive to have more, to take from others and to destroy any who they imagine might have better. This is the way of the realm. It is the way it has been since the birth of the first edan and elf. The elves are worse, for they are as locusts who devour everything in the span of their lives. They consume without thinking. While I am Demon and such wanton destruction is like a sweet wine upon forked tongue it does also concern me. They lack the will to stop. They lack the reasoning to see what each action sets into motion. Today one might slaughter a neighbors peasants, set blaze to his fields and buildings and claim the lands for himself despite the fact he is larger and tomorrow he is left with the stigma of being branded a war mongering coward.

It is no pleasant vision to the eyes to see these things happening, yet the Demon in me enjoys it all. To hear them postulate after of great victory against such insignificant forces only grants greater chaos to the lands and summons forth what is currently taking place. I do not believe they should be wiped away. We can, however, exact new and pleasant forms of suffering upon them. Make then quiver in behind their walls with the knowledge that they can be plucked out like the meat of a nut and devoured should we so desire it. They are chaos in its more destructive form, unthinking, uncontrolled even to themselves. They serve a purpose. Though I prefer amusement above them all. For they are amusing. How they whine and threaten when the Reality is revealed to them.” A shake of horned head. That did not mean she would not take part in culling the herds down to a few if she could do such. They had become a disease upon the lands. Devouring until nothing was left.

They had forgotten where they came from and what true purpose they served, though she often wondered if the Creator of this realm did not find it just a little ironic that he set a realm of war and chaos and received it back in abundance. Though already too many had faded into Chaos. Their energies had simply gone to slumber. Those who returned now were to be held to breast tightly. They were a fading breed. How amusing that she should feel as if they, as Demons, were an isle in a river of madness. Strong and united against the red waters which greedily glutted upon everything it touched and drove off all those who had once known a greatness. That was neither here nor there and did not warrant a revisit. They had gone and lamenting it did not advance what must be done. Rising from the throne to pace to a wall. Wings like canvas roughly rubbing together in a dry sound as hips swayed. The mists danced and touched as her pet, Kri’taGar slipped beneath the black marble surface of the floor with a ripple. The throne was gone. Tentacles teased along her calves as she paused before the roiling wall. Gaze on the endless display of human, elves and yes, even insect and animal limbs and faces melted and reached or screamed. A flash of hand and she drew from the wall the black struggling soul of a man. Talons pierced the inky oily surface as she turned and held up the wriggling thing for them all to see. ”No longer can we allow these filthy beings to stain that which we have grown to consider ours, to hold a small love for. Yes, love, amusing as that is. These filthy blights have taken from this realm all that once was worthy and have befouled it. We will crush and kill. We will squeeze these filthy beasts until their eyes dangle from their sockets and their feces runs down their legs.”

Fingers squeezed like a vice, the soul howled it’s agony before it was pulped and fed into the sharp cavern of her mouth. Devoured. Forked tongue flickered over fingers as she gazed at them. ”They own nothing. It is time they learned that. They are but visitors upon lands which they take for granted. It is time we brought that home to them through pain and misery.” Those eyes blazed almost like flames. Her form rippled slowly as she contained her true form inside though it raged to be relased and set upon the unworthy. Head canted to the right just a bit before the most murderous smile curved her lips and she started back towards the group. Above countless red eyes opened, staring down at those gathered.