RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard International [Issue 15] World of Darkness

Inside the net, Edulcore Cicciotto, the Raptor, was struggling to find a way to free himself, to no avail.

Brianna was flattened over Euro, and their faces where one close to the other.

"Don't even think of using your cry, Bree" said Euro, smiling.

"It's not the time for the laughs, Ed, please!"

"Do you still thinks Grayavale could be a good guy, Bree?" The piercing sight of the avian couple went to the form of the lord of the castle, sitting near Godbolt.

"Mhhh... maybe yes, Ed. See how he is uneasy? Maybe he has just been forced to ally with Godbolt. Maybe he wanted us to free himself and his land from Godbolt's dominion."

"I don't think. They share the same military corp... I mean, both of them have those Red Archers..."

"But Red Archers are not a corp... they are a people...

"What? Who is talking" asked Euro, after that strange voice talked.

"I am. Nippolo, at your service, sir!" It was the massariol, the little man, coming out of a pocket of the knight uniform worn by Edulcore. "The Red archers are a people of this land, not an army corp. They all wear that uniform because the vests that give them their reflex and velocity are tinted in dragon's blood. They are skilled hunters, and now they fight on both sides of the civil war..."

Euro frowned. "How do you know how to speak English, little man?"

"I learned it from you, in this two days. It's easy for us that live with the planet... like once was for everyone... before the day Godbolt came..."

"Talks like Phil" observed the girl, her face still pressed over Euro's own.

"So, Nippolo, that is, right... you mean Godbolt and Grayvale are not allied?"

"They are... by one hour. While we were in the cell, the castle has been surrounded by Godbolt forces. The one you saw yesterday, on the road across the hills. Grayavale hoped to enlist you in the defense of the fortress... after he saw what you did in the morning at the village... but it was late. So he had to surrender to Godbolt, and now he sits on the throne of the castle, that once was Grayavale's own."

"Ok" said Euro. "So, outside there are the forces we saw this early morning... and now they are surrounding the castle..."

"Yes..."

"And how do you know? You that were all the time posing as panties or hiding in my pocket?"

Nippolo sighed. "I told you. I tap in the conscience of the planet... it's the trees, the clouds, the sky that is telling me..."

"You seems smarter than I though..."

"I AM! I am helping you because I think you could help this planet in turn, not because I fall for your stupid trick... plus, this girl... wow wow wow!" the massariol was now sporting the big erection again.

"Arghhh! Keep that... that... THAT away from me!" yelled Brianna.

"Ok, ok, now silence" ordered Euro, looking around between the meshes of the net.

"It's a no win situation, Ed" said Brianna. "We are here, caged, our friends fighting this monster, inside a castle full of archer, surrounded by a whole army of men, undead and monsters. "What can we do?"

Euro smiled. "Godbolt is here, separated from his army by a huge defended wall, surrounded by his enemies. It seems a good situation for us, Bree." And then, looking at Nippolo: "You! If you want to help, find the big bird!"

The little man disappeared running down the net, and the arm of the monster, so little to be unnoticeable by the beast.

Trumpets sang a loud, short motive. All the people around the arena stood up. For last stood up Lord Godbolt, raising a big sword, red of blood.

"ONE TRUE ORDER!" he shouted, and the people roared.

In the same moment, from one of the tower came down Erasmus. With a single, elegant move he took the net from the grasp of the monster, bringing it up and then leaving it. The mesh opened, and the two bird people were free, flying up in the sky.

"ONE TRUE ORDER!" shouted Godbolt again. But tis time the crowd stayed silent.

One moment later, Godbolt found himself covered in bird poo.

"Vanguard, move your... ehm... GO GO GO!" yelled Danny.

"'Go go go?' What the fuck is up with that?" asked Priest.

Danny ducked the ax of one of the undead. "Ask Brianna! Ah! It's her idea!"

Danny retreated from the weapon long enough to communicate with Hal. Sporting massive bear claws and a hyena's jaw, he went on the offensive. The hyena is often credited with being a scavanger, but in fact, they kill to scavenge ratio is higher than that of the lion. Their jaws are designed to crush into the bones of their prey, leaving little food to waste. They were perfect for battleing the undead. The bear claws sank deep into the flesh, leaving the deadman clamped and unable to manuver. One crunch from the jaws was enough to disable the ax-zombie, and Danny turned to find someone new to fight.

Ozzy was immune to the archers' attacks. When they saw him approaching them, undaunted by the arrows hitting his chest, they scattered. "What, want a piece of me? Huh? Huh?"

It occured to Ozzy that maybe the archers weren't just retreating. Men running from danger don't tend to look back eagerly. They seemed to be clearing the wall nearby. Ozzy turned around. There was a giant zombie behind him, and his ax was bigger than Grimm's.

"Oh shit..."

The ax sank into the lower portion of Ozzy's right rib cage. The blade drove all the way into the wall, pinning Ozzy to it. The corpsed grinned at his own handiwork and began punching Ozzy in the gut.

"Oh -- oomph -- fucking -- ommph --"

Brianna tried distracting the archers from her teammates, but it was working too good this time. The arrows were flying a little too close for comfort. Already suffering from one arrow wound, Brianna would not risk a second one. Grabbing a lance off the floor, she too began attacking.

And arrow ran through her wing. It missed the flesh and muscle, but several of the feathers on one of her wings -- the side that had been burned -- were missing. Without warning, Brianna banked left and nearly hit a wall before she realized what had happened. "It's like my wings have been clipped. I'm half cripppled." Her lance drove into the skull of an archer that had been aiming at Priest. "Well, good thing Mr. Ba -- Ozzy -- taught me a little bit about boxing, I think I'll be using it."

The Red Lizard -- the massive scaled beast of Goldbalt's that had imprisoned Brianna and Ed -- had pinned Erasmus to the ground. The massive bird was not crippled -- not yet, anyways -- but without the air advantage was forced to fight with beak and talon. One foot had managed to grasp around the neck while her beak stabbed itself repeativly into the face. The beast, either ignore the pain or not feeling it, slowly used it weight to drag the hawk towards the wall, where she'd be even more compromised.

How odd it seemed to be fighten and not summoning Drax! Drake dodge one sword blade but a second one swung lower, hitting him in the back of the leg. He dropped down to the ground. The dead man holding the sword raised it up to strike him down, but Drake was too quick. Since he was already on the floor, he couldn't swung his own sword very high. But the zombie fell after Drake sliced the ankles.

"Great, now there's two more." Like Erasmus, Drake backed into the wall, though he was hoping he would find safety there, since no one could attack him from behind there.

Ed and Templar found themselves side-by-side. A large group of soliders were closing in on them. "I hope you're happy." said Ed. An arrow cut through his shoulder, though it only sliced the skin. "We're outnumbered and no one on the team can lend a hand. What have you to say about that?"

Mason only grinned. "The badger is most fierce when he is cornered. Let us attack like him, and we will see who the victor is!"

"....most entertaining...."

The words hissed from Lord Gaolvulte......Godbolt.....with an ancient dialect slipping across his purple tongue. Leathery skin wrinkled with his smile, worn cracks surrounding narrow, black slits where his eyes should be. He turned, glancing at the rightful heir of the throne in which he sat....

"....don't you agree?"

King Periwind Graivalle.....Grayvale....looked on. His eyes etched in horror, and tragedy. But, his face....his posture....remained sober and calm. Gloved hands tight behind his back, a daunting pride held his stance firmly in check.

"......of course, my......lord...." escaped his mouth.

The words were tight, and precise......emotionless, and, simultaneously, frightening. As if the words themselves were blades, dipped in the blood of anger, and sent forth to haunt any enemy to their very grave.

Gaolvulte may have conquered his kingdom.....but it was apparent to all.....nothing would conquer his soul.

If Godbolt detected this, he said nothing. The wiry crack that some call a 'mouth' remained in its fixed curve of satisfaction, turning to towards the main arena with anticipation.....

Phil sat against the dirt, in a cross-legged position. His blind stare, looking back and forth with concern. Every so often, his eyes would flicker with waves of emotion or sound, cocking his head all around.....like a radio reciever, looking for a clear signal....

Without warning, an undead knight charged past, dragging his broad sword straight through Smith's upper torso. The knight halted his run, turning back with a confused stare.

Nothing had happened.

Phil sat there, still tilting his head at odd angles....with no apparent wounds. The knight roared, swinging the blade above his head, bringing it down to split the man from skull to crotch. The sharp metal jutted into the hard, powdery earth, the knight baffled at what he saw.

The blade had followed the correct path, straight down Smith's body. Yet, even as it still stuck through him, there was no wound, or mark of any kind.

Before the knight could react again, another sword decapitated him effortlessly. The body fell useless, revealing a sweating Adem Different.

"There was no need for that....." Phil said. "....but, thanks."

Adem cocked an eyebrow.

"So, I was right. Mental projection." he said. "You were never captured."

Phil's entire form flickered briefly, like a hologram. Erasmus and the Pagaroth beast locked in a thunderous conflict, their roars and shrieks blanketing the frenzied arena.

"You're a very astute being, Adem Different." Smith smiled, looking off to his upper right.

"Where are you?" he asked, kneeling next to the astral form of the telepath.

"Still in the forest....still embraced....by nature....." he began. "....my connection wi--"

"Phil?" Adem stopped him.

"...yes?"

"We simply do not have time for a lengthy exposition right now."

"Ah." Phil nodded with a grin. "Okay. Well, do me a favor anyway...."

"What?"

"....look out behind you...."

Different launched off his knees, rolling to his left as another sword came down. Missing him, it drove straight through Smith's form. Adem came up onto his feet, using Phil's inadvertent distraction to take the attacker's head off of his shoulders.

"Thank you." the detective nodded.

"Don't mention it." Smith replied. "...and....DUCK!"

Adem dropped, Priest tumbling by overhead.

"This is not looking good...." Adem murmured, spitting a bit of the dirt out of his mouth.

"...I...I just can't crack it...." Phil gritted his teeth.

"What?"

"The equations...." Smith jerked his head to his lower left briefly, then, up again. "....the skies above are crackling with an algorithmic froth......two different versions of a recursive pi...."

He looked back down again. Then, back up.

"...two different signatures...." his eyes narrowed. "....one is weaker.....further away....than the other one....."

Adem cut his eyes left, seeing another attacker running at him. He immediately went into a ground roll, coming back to his feet clutching a second sword. The knight's blade popped with sparks as it met one of Adem's. In a single, smooth motion, Different drove the second into his skull, and then whipped the first one around again. The knight's head slid off the bloodsoaked metal, tumbling across the ground.

"Phillip." Adem said in a breathless pant. "If you have some way to aid us.....now would be a good time...."

"...I'm working on it..." he nodded frantically.

Priest pulled his body from the ground, his teeth gritting with exertion and pain.

Two cracked ribs.....maybe three.... he thought to himself. He looked up to see the enormous gladiator coming at him again, quarter-staffed warhammer in hand.

...faster....faster... he thought, eyes narrowing as the man roared towards him. Still on his knees, he glanced up at the hazy sunlight drifting down through thin clouds. ...come on....come on....

He rolled to his left, the hammer crashing down next to him. The sharp pain of the cracked ribcage flexed his mouth into a grimace. Still, he shot a hard-booted foot into the jaw of the being, the gladiator stumbling back.

Priest could feel it rising. The power. He had been absorbing as much sunlight as he could, from the moment they entered this godforsaken battleground. Coming to his feet, his planted a sharp punch into the attacker's face, merely dazing him. Launching at the figure with a full-bodied tackle, the two hit the ground rolling.

....almost...there.... he thought, feeling the peak of his power cresting.

Their sweat-laden, bloody forms caked in the powdery ground, the gladiator finally threw the injured Vanguardian off of him. Priest hit the ground with a painful grunt, lying there for a few seconds. That was all the time the gladiator needed to grab his hammer, and bring it straight down into Priest's chest.....

.....the hard, granite-like stone of the mallet, shattering like glass......

The gladiator's eyes widened, as he stepped back, still holding the handle of the devastated weapon. Priest rose slowly with a wicked smile.

"The name's Kent...." he said, tilting his own head left with a hard jerk, the audible pops accompanying. ".....Clark Kent....."

A single fist collapsed the gladiator's sternum, the body sliding thirty-seven-feet across the arena floor. Two more swords snapped against his nigh-impervious body, their owners finding quick deaths.

On the other side of the arena, Drake found himself back into a wall. He lurched left, then right, arrows breaking all around him. But, make no mistake....while Marshall's almost superhuman reflexes kept him one step ahead of death....he was, only human. And, he was tiring.

...okay.... he thought to himself. ....zen, baby.....zen....

With that, he jumped back, cocking his foot against the wall, and, with a single leap, flipped over the three nearest attackers. Landing straight into one of the Archers, Marshall quickly grabbed the bow, notching three arrows. Two of the knights caught an arrow-a-piece in the throats, the third shaft missing.

Behind him, an Archer notched a shaft.

In front of him, a knight cocked his sword back.

"...shit..." Drake mumbled.

The two attacks were simultaneous, as time seemed to crawl to a stop. Drake's body instinctively launched into a standing backflip. And, with an inhuman sense of accuracy and precision, the sword grazed past his chest and face, Drake turning his head to the left as the blade sliced the air where his nose should be.........while, at exactly the same time, the arrow shot past the back of his legs, nicking the flailing tip-edge of his jeans.

Hitting the ground, Drake bounced into a somersault-roundhouse, taking the Archer down. He looked back at the knight, laying still with the arrow embedded in his forehead. He looked down at his own ankles, seeing the tear in his jeans.

"Last time I buy boot-cut...." he mumbled, quickly throwing a quiver over his shoulder.

Brianna's left-hook cracked across an Archer's jaw, as she jerked back, avoiding a knight's sword. She followed with a fake-out to her right, coming around with the left again, taking the knight to the ground. Bri grabbed her own knuckles, grimacing in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" she said over and over, clutching her bruised knuckles. "Stupid girl! You don't hit metal with your bare fist!"

Two more knights came at her suddenly, both dropped by twin arrows in the back of the skull.

"You okay?" Drake asked, dropping another knight.

"Another knight....another Archer....over and over and over..." she drolled. "....isn't this getting a little tedious?"

"Couldn't agree more!" Drake replied, firing off two more shots.

In the northern part of the arena, Templar and Raptor fought side-by-side, working their respective weapons with skill and finesse. No more than forty-feet away, Erasmus and the Pagaroth continued their struggle. However, no matter how sharp his talons....no matter how valiantly he protected his master....Erasmus was beginning to weaken. The creature was too much for him.

"Forgive the cowardly act!" Templar grimaced with fiery eyes, launching across the battlefield. "But I will not leave my right arm so unguarded! HAVE AT THEE BEAST!!"

Ed flinched, meeting another sword with his own blade, glancing at Templar's sprint towards the massive creature. He turned his attention back to the twelve knights and three gladiators approaching him.

"Fine...." he sighed. "...more for me..."

The Pagaroth roared in pain, as Templar drove Caliburne's emerald metal deep into its' thigh. It swatted at Mason, turning away from Erasmus' weak form. Templar rolled, and came back to his feet, clipping the beasts along the back of the ankles. Mason swore under his breath as he realized the creature had no equivalent to the human achilles heel....

The Pagaroth backhanded him into the stone wall of the arena with a quick swat. But, even as it did so, the red-lizard-like creature roared in pain again, withdrawing it's hand to find Caliburne embedded in its knuckles. It gripped the sword in sharp teeth, pulling the metal from its knuckles as one might remove a splinter. Mason looked up, half of his face bloody from the impact. Seeing the sword in the creature's mouth, he smiled through a pained expresssion.

"...come on..." he breathed, his boisterous voice returning with every syllable. "....COME ON!!!"

He launched at the creature, barehanded, and full of valiant rage. The Pagaroth rared its mighty fist into the air, bringing it down with a hard impact....

.....into Priest's waiting hands....

The creature and Templar both froze simultaneously, as Priest stood there holding the massive fist at bay. His body coursed with solar energy, muscles taught and heavy like stone, feet slightly embedded in the ground from the impact.

"Care for a little teamwork?" he asked, glancing at Mason.

Templar began to laugh with a menacing chuckle.

"Let us tear this swine by his limbs....AND THEN FEAST ON HIS CORPSE!!! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"

The two Vanguardians ripped into the creature with as much ferocity as they could muster.

No more than fifty-feet away, Ozzy remained pinned to the wall. His face strained red with exertion, trying deperately to budge the enormous hilt of the axe. But, to no avail. It remained firmly embedded in the wall, Ozzy's form buried about four-inches into it as well. The edge of the axe that met his chest sat bent, and curved around his impervious form. However, the rest of the blade was sunk too deeply for him to move. Or breathe. It had been almost ten minutes since he last took a breath. And, Baxter worked furiously, trying to move the handle. To move the blade. He estimated that he had about four more minutes before stasis kicked-in.

He hated 'stasis'. He wasn't sure why it happened, but, he knew when. Any time he couldn't breathe. Any time he was cut off from an atmosphere. It seemed to be some form of adapting response by his body.....a meta-autonomic reaction that would lapse him into a coma-like state until his lungs detected a breathable atmosphere again. And he hated it. Like sleeping too long, he always came out of it off-balance....groggy....his memories scattered and displaced.

And, Ozzy pushed against the handle with all of his strength. And, still, it would not budge. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but, of course, couldn't speak without breathing.

Three minutes.

Damn, he thought.

The rest of the team fought hard and furious, knowing that this was no mere battle. This was no run-of-the-mill, save-the-day fight. This was for survival. There was no quarter asked, or given. And, even as it might look as some of the Vanguardians were gaining the upper hand, it was short-lived at best. For, even as they began to regroup....even as they began to work together....three of the massive iron gates began to slide open....

...revealing nine more Pagaroth creatures.

"Oh...no..." Danny panted from exhaustion, as the remaining knights, gladiators, and Red Archers retreated from the arena.

"You have all fought with vigor, and have entertained me this evening!" Godbolt announced from his throne. "Thus, I give you all quick deaths!"

The Pagaroths began to corall everyone into the middle of the arena.

"Danny?" Raptor asked. "Any bright ideas?"

Hearn said nothing, as the shadows of the creatures loomed over them. He was fresh out of ideas, and, for once.....he was stumped.

Phil, still sitting in the back of the arena, suddenly looked straight up.

"Ah! Ah! I see...I see!" he nodded. "You need a....reciever....something above the neutralizing field....above the arena.....I understand!"

RAPTOR!!

Raptor winced, clutching his temples.

FLY! FLY HIGH!!

Ed didn't question, but, instantly vaulted straight into the air, heading straight up into the hazy skies of sunlight.

"ED?!" Danny yelled, watching Euro shoot into the air.

Behind Godbolt, up on the massive podium, a figure stepped out of the shadows. His face scarred and wizened, one eye sat wider than the other. The widest of the eyes was a pale green, while the other remained a deep blue.

He was Califron, Godbolt's court sorcerer.

"My liege...." he said, staring up at Raptor's form. "....something wild this way comes...."

And, even as Ed broke above the arena, into the open skies, Phil's eyes widened.

"...almost there...."

Miles away, still embraced by nature, the real Phil Smith looked back and forth at the sky.

"....contact..."

Directly above the arena, Raptor's form was suddenly bathed in a violet aura. His body halted in mid-air, as if time were frozen around him. And, this energy that had seemingly been seething unseen above the protected field of the arena, funneled through Raptor, firing straight down into the middle of the battlefield.

There was a massive crack of lighting and thunder, and a single form emerged on the battlefield.

He was tall, and lanky. Dressed in thick, black robes, his long, silken hair matched the color. A high-forehead, sullen cheeks, and skin as ashen as chalk. Glowing green eyes sat centered directly up on Califron.

Califron sneered, throwing his hands up. Azure beams of light snaked from his palms, as his mouth muttered a few 'incanquations'. The newly arrived figure met his stance, violet-hued energy tendrils moving to counter.

"Blasphemer!!" Godbolt yelled at the black-garbed figure. "You dare taunt me with your presence?!!"

"I do not fear you, Gaolvulte...." the obvious sorcerer responded, his voice calm, and low. "....I merely loathe you...."

Time and light bubbled into a hazy globe of distortion, surrounding the fighters within the arena. Danny noticed the same color of energy as the one that had saved them days ago, when they first arrived.

And, a tear in space opened....widening in an oval-shaped, silvery-glowing disc of crackling energy.....

"Enter the Eye, please....I cannot hold it open for long...." the figure announced to Dan.

"Vanguard....retreat!" he ordered.

Everyone immediately began leaping into the portal. Raptor swooped down, diving straight into the light, Dan the last to go through. Hearn suddenly looked back, as if remembering something.

"BAXTER!!" he yelled.

Ozzy was still pinned to the wall. His eyes had become droopy, as he was slowly losing consciousness. He lazily waved his hands towards the man, telling him to go on without him.

"Step through....I cannot hold it open for much longer...." the figure said.

"NO!! I won't leave without Baxter!!"

Priest's arm suddenly shot from the portal, yanking Danny through.

The cloaked figure took a single step, also enetering the Eye. And, without another sound, the portal sealed itself.

It was a few moments, as the occupants of the arena regained their senses. The creatures turned towards Phil's lone form. He smiled and waved, even as the mental image faded into nothingness.

The last few seconds of consciousness, Ozzy saw the Pagaroths turning towards him....

***************************

Somewhere else.....

"Where are we?" Danny asked the cloaked figure.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere Gaolvulte cannot find you...." he replied.

"What's going on?" Drake asked. "Who are you?"

The figure smiled.

"My name is Ghaelon..."

Captain Marowarn sat on his usual stool in the Hillsedge Tavern and downed another ale. He glanced again towards his right as he had on occasion for twenty minutes now. Yes, there was no mistake. The wench was smiling at him. She winked suggestively and motioned him over with her finger. Marowarn smiled as his finished his ale and stood up to follow the girl outside.

"Oho, lass! It's growing dark and unsafe for one as lovely as you to be about. You don't want to end up a snack for one of those nasty walking corpses." He put his arm around the girl's shoulder.

She smiled at Marowarn. "My, you're warm." she cooed. "Let's go over there where no one can see us." She looked over at the nearby trees and smiled wide, flashing her perfect, white teeth. Marowarn couldn't believe his luck.

The girl leaned back against a treetop as Marowarn put his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her. "Wait," she said, putting her finger to his lips. "What is it, my lady? Are thou nervous? With Captain Marowarn, leader of the fifth platoon of Lord Gauvalte's army here to protect you?" He began to lean in again, his breath hot and smelling of ale, and poor hygiene.

"No, it's just," she stopped as if searching for the right words. "Just what, woman? Get on with it! I am not a patient man!"

"But that's it, you see, I'm not a woman." She said, smiling again as she glanced over Marowarn's shoulder.

"Not a woman? NOT A WOMAN?! What foolishness is this? What else could you be-" Marowarn felt a tap on his shoulder and looked around mid-sentence just in time for a steel gauntleted fist to impact with his chin. Marowarn's head spun around as his neck snapped, killing him instantly.

"Dammit, Grimm, that's the third one!" The girl's voice dropped as she resumed the familiar shape of Sam Dawsom. "How are we ever going to find where they're holding the rest of the group if you keep killing them before we can question them? I'm getting tired of having to flirt with these disgusting assholes."

Grimm dumped Marowarn's body behind a large pile of shrubbery where it landed at the top of a pile. As he turned back to face Sam, incandescent green energy flared from his eyes. "Don't look at me, this was your plan." His deep, gravelly voice seemed to boom out towards the shapeshifter.

"I know. . .I know. . .How did we get to this point. . ." Sam's mind drifted off to the events of earlier in the day.

Flashback!

As Sam watched Gauvalte's army cart off the Vanguard members, he was approached by an old man. "You are the Shift." The old man seemed vaguely familiar. It was the shaman Sam had met before. "You!" Sam was too flustered for a longer response.

"There is something you should know, the Shift." The old man held up his hand and the image of a young girl appeared within it. "They have her, the Shift. Held within Gauvalte's dungeons. They plan to feed her to his undead army, when he is done with her."

"Megan!" Sam shouted. "We've got to save her, Grimm." In response, Grimm lay on the ground and drooled black liquid. "Come with us." Sam offered the shaman. "I cannot, the Shift. I am old and my time draws near. My power is weak."

"I understand, thank you." Sam shook the old man's hand and morphed into a larger form, picking Grimm up and tossing him over his shoulder. As the two left the village, the old's man's form withered and changed, become younger, more supple. Now in his place stood a young woman, pale skinned with long,dark hair that came to a widow's peak above her forehead. A violet gown wrapped sensously around her ample figure. Those who knew of this woman referred to her in hushed whispers as "The Temptress." She cocked her head back and laughed evilly. "Gauvalte will be so pleased. . ."

Sam dragged Grimm for miles, the Vanguardian's emaciated form being much lighter than usual, due to the odd sickness caused by this bizarre world. Eventually, though, exhaustion got the better of the boy and he had to rest. As he sat down in a clearing and resumed his "normal" form, sweat streamed down his face. "Okay, your turn." he said, glancing at the unconscious body of his friend.

A rustling in a nearby clearing attracted the boy's attention. "Food?" he thought, feeling a rumbling in his stomach. A small, grey hare darted forth out into the clearing towards them. With reflexes honed from his time spent surviving in this world, Sam's arms "Shifted" into long metal blades, spearing the small hare and killing it instantly. "Sorry, Bugs, but meat's meat and a man's gotta eat." Dawson spoke to the animal instantly remorseful for his actions.

Another rustling caught his attention as more animals charged forth from the bushes, rushing past Sam without acknowledging him. "What the hell. . ."

A troupe of undead charged forward from the bush, stopping their former chase upon taking notice of Sam. "Oh, shit." the boy said. "Grimm, you're family's here to pick you up. . .Grimm, Grimm, wake up." He slapped the cold, white jawbone of the Vanguardian. Nothing.


"Don't make me do this. . ." he said, reaching down for the Vanguardian's weapon. Picking up the large axe with no small effort, Dawson turned towards his attackers as they began to surround the two.

"Okay, you ugly fuckers, let's go." Sam began to attempt a swing with the axe when a voice stopped him.

"Sam. . ." He turned to look behind him. Grimm was standing up, his left arm outstretched. "Give me the axe, Sam."

"You've got to be kidding me, look at you, you can barely stand." he protested. Grimm took a step forward, and another. "Give. Me. The. Axe." This was not a request.

Sam handed off the weapon as he turned back towards the menace, his arms, forming hammers and maces.

Grimm firmly grasped the handle of his weapon. For the first time since arriving in this world, he knew what to do. Or at least, he thought he did. He went into a place inside his mind. A deep, dark place. And he called out.

"Any time today, Grimm." Sam said, lopping off a zombie's head as another charged at him. Grimm concentrated as tiny blue sparks began to pop out from his weapon. "Almost there. . ." he muttered to himself. "Almost. . .almost. . .got you!" The axe fired into life, surrounded by the familiar blue energy signature that signified Grimm's role. The energy shifted, however, and began to move along the color spectrum, first, to yellow, then onwards to a bright, emerald green where it seemed to settle and find itself. The green surrounded Grimm as his body began to fill back out to it's usual size, and past it. "Whoah. . ." the avatar said, as the green flared from his eyes.

"Grimm, a little help here?" Sam called out as his attackers closed in.

"Right." The deep rumbling voice responded. Slamming the hilt of the axe down upon the ground with great force, the emerald energy flared out, connecting with the undead. As the zombies turned towards Grimm, he uttered one word. "No."

"Whew. A little close there, buddy." Sam slipped away from the creatures as they gathered round Grimm, as if they awaited his next command. "Hey, have you gotten bigger?" Sam asked, peeking over Grimm's shoulder at their new allies.

"Possibly." was all he said. "So, uh, what now, kemosabe?" Sam asked, morphing into a perfect replica of Jay Silverheels as Tonto.

"Now, we find our friends."

This was four hours ago. . .

"You mind telling us --" began Danny.

Ghaleon raised his thin hand, and Danny stopped talking. "You are all injured. Replenish your energy. I will explain myself after you are mended."

The old cloaked men turned and walked away. His pace was that of an old king, or an aging lion familiar and content with his surroundings. Danny believed Ghaleon when he said that they were safe here.

'Here' was an old forest. The light was pale blue, and the trees seemed gray instead of brown. There were no sounds of birds or rodents -- just the sound of rustling leaves and branches sway from the breeze.

There was a wrought-iron table in a small meadow with food to feed the members of Vanguard. Grabbing a glass of some sort of wine, Danny made his way over a small river. Brianna was sitting down next to it. "What are you doing to your wing?"

A pile of broken feathers and blood was on the ground. "You have wings, Danny. Well, at least you do sometimes. These shafts are broken beyond repair. I can't fly until I pull the bad ones out so new ones can grow again." One wing-tip was plucked down to the pale flesh. "Really," she said, trying not wince. "It doesn't hurt that much."

Brianna told Danny about Grayavale's situation. "Well fuck. Too bad we didn't get to him sooner. This whole situation is messy. We've been running around like chickens without are heads -- uh, no offense, Bri."

"None -- ow -- taken." Brianna dipped her bloody, featherless wing-tip into the water. "This water's clear. And clean. This place is almost too good to be true." She looked worried. "He's got food and everything, you think it'd be too much to eat? My sugar levels have dropped to the bottom."

"Yeah, go ahead." Brianna left, and Adem sat down next to Danny. "Got any ideas, Adem? I think my brain's spent."

Sam paced to and fro as Grimm sat on the stump of a dead tree. Sam's plan, although creative, was getting them no closer to their goal. Not that they even have a goal persay, but still, the plan was getting them nowhere fast. Asides second base, but don't even think about asking Sam about that.

"She's still alive. She's still alive and I left her here."

"Megan." Grimm noted from earlier in the day, "Tell me about her."

"Well, we met on the plane over here, so to speak. We grew close. Really close."

"What about Michelle?"

Sam shrugged.

"And what is exactly your fascination with chicks with the letter M in their name?"

"You're one to talk."

Grimm shrugged.

"Why would Lord Godbolt have her? He should have no use for her..." Sam's eyes opened wide, "Unless he... Oh God."

Grimm stood, "What are you talking about?"

"The Wizard, he knew all about us. About the world I was from. What if...?"

"...Godbolt uses her to get to our world?"

"I would imagine he'll try."

"It doesn't add up. He got you and the plane here, they should have no problem getting into our world."

"Not true. Well, not exactly, they couldn't get us home. They had no idea how to get back to our world. That was all me. But how can they use her to get back."

"The idea is flawed."

"But not necessarily impossible. Right?" Sam brushed his hand through his dirty blond hair.

"Anything is possible."

Suddenly, a net caught Grimm off guard. Three knights tackled Sam to the ground. Grimm stood up with the net over him and turned around to see a half a dozen poorly armored knights attacking.

Sam struggled free, shifting his muscles huge and throwing the men off him. He formed his right arm into a sword and blocked a swing aimed at his head. Kicking the man off, Sam's eyes widened again, "Justin?"

The man stopped, "...Samuel?"

Grimm ripped the net apart and reached his glowing ax back. As he brought the ax down, Sam yelled for him to stop and jumped in front of the knight with an almost lightening reflex.

A slip second before contact, the ax stopped.

"Samuel." Grimm put the ax down, "It's been a while, but to refresh," Grimm points to himself, "Avatar of Death. The ax, it kills."

"Yeah, but we don't want to kill these guys."

Sam turned and looked towards Justin. Justin approached Sam. For a moment they just stood there. Then, Justin cold cocked Sam with his steel gauntlet. Sam hit the ground hard.

"I guess I deserved that..." Sam added as he passed out.

"Have at thee, thou undead varlet!" Sir Justin screamed as his sword sang through the air and collided with Grimm's axe.

"Justin! Look!" One of the men pointed to the edge of the woods as the undead poured forth and formed defensive positions around Grimm.

"He's led Gauvalte's monsters to us! Kill them!" Justine screamed as his knights lept into battle with Grimm and the undead. Grimm leapt into the fray with more abandon than usual, flinging Justin's men from him as they attempted to subdue the avatar.

"Dammit, I'm sick of being attacked everytime I go somewhere!" The avatar yelled, emerald power pouring out of his eyes and weapon. The power poured forth into the undead and they followed him into the fray, gaining strength and speed.

"That's it. . .give in to the power." The Temptress watched from the shadows nearby. "Give in. . .to Godbolt. . ." She smiled, playing with a strand of hair, enjoying the chaos.

Drake washed off a wound on his leg, it had almost fully healed. "Too bad the others don't heal as quick as I do." He said to no one in particular. He caught a quick movement out of the corner of his eye, but it was gone before he could focus on it. He decided to seek out their host for answers.

"So, I take it we aren't alone here."

"Don't worry. They're friends. Shy friends, but friends nonetheless."

"Wow, three sentences without telling me anything I didn't already know. That could be a record."

Ghaleon was unfazed by Drake's attitude. "That's an interesting tattoo."

Drake saw that Ghaleon was looking at the design on his forearm "You've seen this symbol before."

"Of course, just not in a long time. And never on an offworlder. Tell me, what is your name, Dragonmaster?"

"Drake, but I'm not a master of anything, I got a friend who's a dragon though."

"So, dragons live on your world?"

"Two that I know of at least. They don't look like what you'd think they would though."

Ghaleon smiled enigmatically. "And how would you know what I think dragons would look like?"

"Well, this sure isn't the place to come to for answers."

Ghaleon was smiling. "Perhaps, Dragonmaster Drake. Or perhaps you should return when you're ready to ask the correct questions. Oh, and the fairies in this forest are under my protection. They shall emerge out when they are comfortable around you and your friends. Your powers of healing are considerable, but you no doubt still need to build your strength. There is plenty of food."

"Yeah, thanks." Drake went over to the table.

Sam awoke to the chaos that involved two of his old teammates from different worlds and their respected armies. In corner A ) with a blue flag wrapped around his arm, Sir Justin led his men against those in corner B ) lead by the emerald glowing avatar of Death, an army of the undead.

Sam was groggy, but the sight of blood flowing from former human friends was just too much. Sam lifted his right arm.

"Zi-laspe-du-til-op-atil-os!"

A surge of energy blasted from his arm, sending everyone to the ground.

"Whoa," Sam blurted, "I actually said the right words for once."

The Knights stood and backed away from Sam. The undead kept their distance on Grimm's cue.

"Samuel." Grimm spoke, his eyes ablaze, "I'll only say this once. MOVE."

Sam's mind raced. He turned to the Knights.

"Justin, I'm not asking you to trust me. But I got the big guy!" Sam picked up a discarded sword and ran towards Grimm. Sir Justin's men ran at the zombies with a new found fury.

Sam's sword met Grimm's axe.

"Do you realize what you're doing?" Grimm asked.

"Saving my men!" was Sam's reply as he swung the sword around and connected with Grimm's side, but reflected off the avatar's armor. Sam lifted his arm towards Grimm, "Ki-tus-lape-kula." A bolt of blue energy struck Grimm's chest and knocked him back a step.

"Nice ability." Grimm eyed his former teammate, "Nice of you to fill us in."

"We all have secrets."

Sam grew to Grimm's size. Grimm, high on anger, jumped at Sam who jumped away, letting the avatar hit the ground hard. Grimm, upon getting up, looked around to find his army of undead, well, dead again. Sir Justin's men formed a circle around the currently in battle Sam and Grimm.

"Perhaps this is a good starting point for us to go our separate ways to find new allies." Mason said to Priest as they helped themselves to the food that Ghaleon had provided.

Priest was troubled. "We need to regroup first. We're scattered all over. I think we should try to get back together before we consider splitting up any further."

"Come now, Mr. Priest. we worked well together on the battlefield. Now's not the time to fight with each other."

"'Worked well together'? We didn't all make it, and the only reason the rest of us did make it was because of unexpected help."

"Ah, but one of our number DID expect it, and it was another of our teammates that made that help possible. We've already made a few allies here. I think we should make more."

"Well, it's not up to you or me."

"Aye, you're right. And our leader seems troubled now. We should heal now and get ready for what's to come. Whatever that may be. And hopefully our host shall become forthcoming with more information about this land."

Priest seemed more at ease. "Yeah, we can agree on that."

The Temptress watched the battle between Sam and Grimm with a smile. Sir Justin’s knights formed a battle circle around Grimm and drew their swords.

“We choose our battles wisely, my dear.”

Grimm looked around and struck his axe into the ground. A small quake drew everyone back.

“You did not make a wise decision my friend” Were Grimm’s last words to Sam before walking back and away from the men.

Sam watched as the avatar simply walked away and whispered to himself in desperation, “…don’t go…” It was too late, Grimm was to far to hear and even if he did, he would simply laugh.

Sam turned towards Justin. Justin approached Sam.

“I only let you hit me once” Sam stated as Justin pulled him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you well, old friend.”

“Status?”

“The survivors have gone into hiding. We’ve regrouped with Devaltian’s men, but the alliance has crumbled. We are short handed...”

“I brought help.”

“The demon?”

“I’ll fill you in.”

Grimm wandered into the forest, holstering his axe in the scabbard. The green energy pouring off of him in spiky waves.

"They are yours to call. No others. They are only dead if you allow it." The silky, seductive voice sounded from behind Grimm.

"Who-?" He turned quickly, grabbing his axe again.

"A friend." The Temptress smiled, lowering herself casually from a tree branch. Walking up to him, she reached out and gently took his arm. "You did it before, now again, like this." She motioned his arm downward, as the hilt of the axe struck the ground, radiating pure waves of the emerald green energy.

Within moments, hordes of the undead were crowding around their new master. Back at their camp, Justin and Sam saw the green flare up in the distance. "That is not a good sign, Samuel." Sam looked at the green light, a question forming on his lips that his voice could not find: "Why?"

"Mmmmmm, yes. . ." The Temptress motioned her body against Grimm's form as her hands moved along her own in a semblance of orgiastic pleasure. Reaching up behind her, she grasped Grimm by the chin and spoke. "What is our oath, my love?"

Raising his axe high overhead, the green radiating off it, as the undead bowed on one knee, Grimm spoke evenly but plainly: "One true order."

"<No, no, NO! PATHETIC!>" the old archer yelled to the kid's face. He was dressed in dark red robes and the orange hair on his head and face went down to the floor.

"<But... I only missed once...>" the kid protested in a respectful tone.

"<Only once? ONLY once?!>" the master repeated. "<ONCE is enough to make you unworthy. In battle, ONE lost arrow could mean one less defeated enemy. One miserable piece of excrement that will get to live because of your failure. That's not acceptable.>"

The old master left the lad's side and started walking along the line of formed young archers. "<No, all resistance must be erradicated as soon as it's spotted, not one moment later,>" he continued. "<I congratulate you on the quickness of your reactions, lad, but your lack of accuracy makes you inferior. From now on your training hours will be doubled.>" The master stopped walking and talking for a moment, the idea of a punishment forming in his mind. "<The same goes for the rest of the group.>"

The master continued walking until he reached a wooden door. "<As a consequence, your sleeping time will be reduced by half.>" He opened the door and stepped outside without looking back. "<You have young Zarch to thank for that.>"

As soon as the door was closed, the rest of the boys in the large room turned and looked at Zarch. As he stepped back, they formed a circle around him, and then...

...Zarch woke up.
"Where the hell...?" he looked around. He was lying on a rustic bed with no covers in a small room with wooden walls.

"<What did you say?>" another Red Archer, sitting in a nearby bed, asked.

Right. Another dimension. Archer dude. Weird lenguage.
"<Nothing...>" Zarch said, sitting up. "<What happened?>"

"<You got caught, that's what happened.>" the other archer answered. "<They killed Hark and your group, but they kept you alive, possibly for questioning. We caught them and found you gagged and uncounscious.>" The archer grinned. "<You looked pathetic.>"

"<Where are the ones who caught me?>" Zarch asked.

"<They escaped. Some sort of portal.>" The archer looked at Zarch. "<You want revenge, don't you? I knew it. That's why I waited for you. We're making a small tracking group. Three of us, no more. Once we find them we'll let the rest know and ambush them. They're not to be taken lightly, it seems.>"

"<Count me in,>" Zarch said. He was about to ask something, but hesistated. He wasn't sure if it would give him away. In the end, he decided to ask. "<How will we track them if they used a portal to escape?>"

The other archer cocked an eyebrow. "<We have their signatures, obviously. What's wrong with you, are you forgetting Master Ark's lessons?>"

"<Oh, no. I'll never forget that old bastard. I still remember the beating you gave me because of him.>"

The other archer smiled. "<How could you. We sure taught you a lesson that time. Let's part, now. It's going to be a long walk.>"

"<Indeed,>" Zarch replied. "<I'm eager to find those bastards...>"

Memory is a funny thing, Zarch thought to himself as he walked outside the room with his comrade. It's there when you need it to save your ass.
If only he could remember this guy's name, though...

After walking through the halls of... whatever the place they were in was, Zarch walked past a small window that led to a torture chamber. He recognized the person being tortured inside.

"<Wait, isn't that one of the strangers that captured me?>"

"I am neither saint, nor demon.....god, nor man....."

The haggard grouping of Vanguard sat in a small circular clearing, each finding their personal place of comfort in the lush foliage. The ancient forest hummed and tittered with echoing chimes, and melodies made of pixie dust.

"....I am not the whispering giants....or the screaming river maidens....."

Most still working their appetittes into submission, they watched the regal figure before them, pacing back and forth on nature's personal stage.

".....I am no humble peasant......and I lack the kiss of royalty...."

He continued to talk, the voice smooth and caressing. But, with the briefest hint of malice, perhaps? Or, was it obvious power.....as with the very definition of the word....dominating his presence?

No one could tell. Simply because.....

"....I am the ash-walker....I am the dragon's tooth...."

The guant figure bowed.

"...I am Ghaleon...."

There was a pause, and everyone broke out into an applause that they felt was needed.

Ghaleon smirked.

"...thank you....really...." he shrugged.

Danny raised his hand, as if in a classroom.

"...yes...you....smarmy-lad...." Ghaleon pointed at him.

"Ummm...hi....I'm Danny...." he began, as if talking to a three-year-old. "...this is Vangua---"

"I know who you all are, young Daniel..." he interrupted. "....for, I am the keeper of 'The Eye That Sees'....the tamer of the serpents tongue...."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Templar finally sighed as loudly as possible. "We know who you are already! Enough of this blathering nonsense!!"

"Mason..." Danny began, turning towards the man.

Ghaleon's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps my accomodations are not to your liking?" the slender mage asked. "Perhaps you would care to return to your previous predicament?"

Templar jumped to his feet.

"Are you threatening me, halfling?" his voice growled, yanking Caliburne from its scabbard in a single motion.

"....Mason...." Danny said again, a bit more stern.

Ghaleon's nostrils flared a bit, a light steam rolling from them.

"Stay your hand, lord fatness...." he replied, smoke billowing from his mouth with every word. "....or feel my flame...."

"FEEL MY STEEL!!" Templar roared, raring back for an attack.

"Templar!!" Hearn barked, suddenly standing between him and the mage. "That is enough!!"

His finger was pointed straight out at Mason, eyes firmly fixed on each other. Mason growled a bit, leaning forward menacingly. Danny's finger began to bend a bit against the massive chest.

"....I...." Templar began with raging huffs. "....the time for conflict....."

He sheathed Caliburne.

"....is not now....." he added, leaning in very close to Danny's face. "....but, I have told you once already.....I find it difficult taking orders from a boy...."

Danny and Templar stared at each other briefly.

".....but, for now...." Mason finally said, turning to sit back down.

Danny just took a deep sigh, turning towards Ghaleon.

"Sorry about that...." he said.

The mage simply nodded once, the smoke ceasing its drizzle.

"...it is the time of fire and conflict..." Ghaleon replied. "...those closest to nature's heart find themselves affected all the same..."

He nodded towards Mason.

"His undaunted pride and fierce heart of battle...."

He looked at Raptor.

"....ancient voices..."

He glanced at Brianna.

"....primal souls....." he continued. "...and, primal minds......as with your absent Mr. Smith...."

He turned, as if addressing the forest around them.

"...we all feel it! The conflict! The raging heart of darkness that attempts to claim us all!" he exclaimed dramatically. "It touches all our lives, in some way."

"Ghaleon..." Danny said. "....why have you brought us here?"

The tall, thin man turned back towards him, staring in a disbelief.

"Oh no....no, no, no...." he began. "...I did not bring you here....that was the young Mr. Dawson.....he is the one that sought out your help....."

"I meant...here...to this forest-place-thingy..."

"Wait!" Raptor said. "You know Sam?"

"I told him it would be pointless....in the grand scheme of things...." Ghaleon continued. "I aided the resistance.....I provided guide and assistance to Justin's men. I listened....we all listened....and learned, from young Dawson's stories. Of men with great 'magiks'....that came from no sorcery. The 'MBL'. He would talk of nothing else."

"Vanguard, now, actually...." Danny added.

"The MBL! Vanguard!" Ghaleon began. "It matters not! The power we face here is not 'Godbolt', or the undead, or any of that. These are the details. The tools. What we face is far more devious....far more haunting....and eternal...."

"Evil."

Everyone looked at Brianna.

Ghaleon smiled warmly at her.

"From the tongues of angels...." he said, his voice low and comforting. "....the purest always see the most clearly...."

"We've fought evil in many forms." Raptor announced. "We can do it again."

Ghaleon threw his arms down by his side, rolling his eyes with severe indignation.

"Oh, the arrogance of Hu-Mons...." he sighed.

"No....not arrogance." Raptor replied. "Confidence. Certainty."

"Yes, yes....and I'm sure, sooner or later, one of you will trot out the tired cliche' of cutting a serpents head off to kill the body.....or, that good always triumphs over evil...."

There was a pause, as he stopped, looking around with a stunted conclusion rising in his expression.

"Oh gods...." he drolled sarcastically. "....you already have, haven't you?"

Everyone kind of shuffled, looking away from any form of eye-contact.

Ghaleon just shook his head with disbelief.

"Understand, off-worlders....." he finally said. "....you may find a way to strip Gaolvulte's necromancy.......you might....might....even find a way to kill him....."

Everyone stared at Ghaleon, as he leaned in close to them....

"...but, you simply cannot eliminate evil..." he finally said. "Kill it a million times over....and it always comes back...."

Everyone remained silent, listening to the mage.

"...please, my friends....keep this in mind as you make your strategies..." he finished pleasantly. ".....and, try to understand your role in this world....and what your true goals are...."

"...o-okay..." Danny stumbled out, everyone mesmerized by Ghaleon's dramatic presence.

The mage suddenly leaned fully back up, looking around with a light mood.

"So, have any of you encountered my ex-wife yet?"

*************************

Phil lay lazily in the arms of nature, thick foliage and shrubbery of all types cushioning his form. He stared around, 'listening' to the voices that only he, and crazy people, could hear.

"Good....they are with Ghaleon...." he finally said outloud. "....let's go meet up with them, shall we?"

And, with that, roots pushed up from the ground, coiling like snakes around his form. A gigantic-petaled flower wrapped him in a blanketing pod of warmth and comfort, embracing him completely.

"....Montag hasn't got shit on me...." he sighed, as the plant drug him underground for transport....

******************

Smell is a funny thing.

It can bring back memories, or prick your conscience. It can repel or lure. It's a guide, and can be a warning.

The olfactory center is one of the most complex of the human brain. Billions-upon-trillions of smell variations are locked in encoded neural pathways, learned from every single breath you take. Every move you make.

....smoke....

Every smile you break.

...burning....

Every-thing you say.....I'll be watching you....

....cotton....?

....I'll be watching you...doo-doo-doo.....

....denim....

....now my poor heart aches....

....bubbling....heat.....smoke....burning.....

...with every breath you take....

....voices....

...doo-doo-doo....every-thing you say...every move you make....

".....hit Tim Big Ben....I stink leaves raking up....."

.....I'll be watching you....

....no, no. no.....

".....hit him again....I think he's waking up...."

......I'll be watching you....

Ozzy's eyes cracked open. He was staring into a bright, shimmering orange glow of light.

....every breath you take....

The smell. Cloth...burning.....sizzling....

He raised his head a bit, his vision swimming briefly. Hazy humanoid forms...tow of them....watching him. He was....he was....

...every single day....

Baxter shook his head a bit, trying to rub his face. But, he couldn't move his arms. They were bound by chains, stretched above him. He looked around disoriented, hearing the snap of a whip.

"That got his attention...."

Voices? Jabbering dialects. His vision cleared a bit. He began taking in his surroundings.

He was hanging by thick chains, bare-chested, and waist-deep in a cauldron of molten-hot metal. He looked to be in a dungeon of sorts. It was dark and damp, chains and burning-things all around. At least, this is what he had always read dungeons were supposed to be like.

He gritted his teeth a bit, trying to move his arms. The thick chains bound his wrists tight, though. And, although the molten liquid in which he was suspended did not hurt, the smell of his clothes burning off still clung to his nostrils with a putrid air.

And he couldn't get that damn Police song out of his head.

Fucking Sting.... he thought to himself.

"...hello...?" his hoarse voice cracked.

His captors seemed to find some form of excitement in his waking up.

"You...burn...now...?" the fatter dungeon keeper asked in a broken attempt at English.

"No....no....I don't burn now...." Ozzy replied.

The man looked terribly disappointed, as his colleague reassured him that their job security was not contingent on this man's pain threshold. But, if they were to get that 401K plan, as they had requested, they were going to have to find some way to hurt Baxter. The first one argued that, while certainly some cases were tougher to crack, he was positive that they might miss their yearly bonus if they didn't find some way to kill this irritatingly boring person hanging in the boiling cauldron.

That is, of course, when the second one reminded the first about Ganthar, The Unimpressive, and how it took them seventeen hours to make him cry. The first one nodded with great pleasure at the memory, both taking a moment to turn and stare at the skeleton still hanging on the wall over their desks.

'Good times', they both agreed.

Unbeknowest to Ozzy, this moment would cement the bond of friendship between the two colleagues, and the second's daughter would go on to marry the first's son. Their lineage would continue for thousands of years, one day dominating an entire continent on the far side of the world, as the most reknown candlestick makers this, or any other, world had ever seen. Torturing people has become passe' centuries hence, and, candlestick making had taken its' rightful place as the standard of excellence, bravery, and manhood, shadowing the laughed-at, obsolete practices of killing, pillaging, and raping.

It would be a good life for these people, and they would go on to evolve into one of the proudest, most well-respected sentient species in all of the Multiverse. Their cultural advancements would raise the bar for highly-evolved beings everywhere, and bring about twelve-hundred centuries of a perfect utopia.

Unfortunately, though, Zarch suddenly burst into the dungeon, killing both men before they could even turn.

"You okay?" he asked a bewildered Ozzy.

"Why.....why are you helping me?" his gravely voice asked.

Zarch aimed an arrow at the hook in the ceiling that held the chains.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you....."

Drake smiled crookedly. "Well, given our luck so far, if she isn't undead or an archer we haven't."

"I suppose not, Dragonmaster. Her name is Viluria but she is better known as the Temptress and, for reasons unknown even to me, she has aligned herself with Lord Gaolvulte" Only a cobra could have spat with more venom that Ghaleon did as he sneered the word "lord".

"What does that have to do with us?" Danny was getting annoyed at the volume of words and the lack of information.

"Everything, as long as you insist on entering this fray. There are forces beyond your comprehension on both sides already. And yet, even with such forces, you may be able to tip the balance of power. Not much force is needed if you push in the correct spot."

"I sense you are a friend, Ghaleon, but we're in the mood for information, not for riddles." Mason's temper was beginning to rise once more.

"You shall have all the knowledge you require, when you require it."

"Why won't you tell us?" Raptor did his best not to make it sound like a demand.

Ghaleon's tone remained as cool and even as ever. "When you're in a precarious position, say walking allong a narrow, uneven ledge, the best way to make it without panicking is to not look down. Think of this as my way of not giving you the opportunity to look down."

Drake rolled his eyes "So, you're gonna tell us where to push, eh?"

Ghaleon chuckled lightly. "You've already deduced that I'm sot the sort to come out and 'tell' anything, Dragonmaster. I will make suggestions, however. You've lost a powerful ally when you made the journey to this reality, and yet he can still help you, although not directly. You bear the mark of a Dragonmaster, something not easily earned, it can open doors for you even here. Of course, once you get inside there are no guarantees."

"There are dragons here." Brianna wasn't asking a question.

"Indeed, once again you are most insightful. The journey will not be easy and my powers can only send you so far. Into a place too concerned with its own internal struggles to be directly linked to the greater ones here. Far to the West, Beast Men and the Vile Tribe struggle with each other. It's only a matter of time, really before one of the sides join Gaolvulte. It is in this land where you will find the Blue Spire, where there is a door only you can open."

"I think I got that, but I wish I'd brought a notepad." Drake remarked. "But the 'Vile Tribe' and the 'Beast Men'? Who are the good guys?"

"I'm not certain how things work in your world, Dragonmaster, but in this one, things do not always fit into neat categories."

"Well, if there's help there I guess I should go. Probably not by myself, though. Of course, it's up the bossman here if I really should, and up to anyone else if they want to go with me."

"If we're going to be splitting up like this," Danny began with a deep sigh, "then we need to decide how were going to do this. Now, I'm going to take Priest and see if we can get back they guys we've lost. I'm not losing anymore of the team is this damn place."

"I'd better come with you," Adem said, stepping out from among his teammates. "My translator has worked out the language. You'd need that if we're going back. Plus, I might help out in tracking them down."

Danny nodded. "Alright. So Adem's coming with me and Priest. Who's next?"

"Any fool with half a brain can see that there is only way way to crush the tyrannical, imperialistic forces which deprive the people of their rights," Mason Templar bellowed. He paused, waiting for someone to say something. No one did.

"The Giants, you peurile morons!" Templar said with a laugh. "They may smack as a bit of a deus ex machina solution to the problem of this world, but who else has the sheer strength and power to resist the evil magicks which enslave all others?"

Ghaleon shook his head and smiled a knowing smile at the man. "Futile. The Giants don't concern themselves with any of the peoples of Darkworld except their own. Moreover, they are generally loners and do not normally socialize with each other except for certain occasions, such as for mating purposes, and they cannot be made to form an army as you would need. Their territory, Jotunheim, is vast and sparsely populated, and the Giants simply live off the land. They're left alone, and they generally leave the rest of us alone, taking only what they need when they hunger. To them you are less than an insect, a bug to be stepped on, not even fit for a meal, though your bird, on the other hand..." Ghaleon winked at Templar, who frowned menacingly at his insinuation. "The Giants cannot be made to serve the needs of man, and they cannot be controlled by any dark magicks, which is why their land has been left untouched. A trip to Jotunheim is a fool's errand. Do not waste your time with such faint hopes."

"A fool's errand, is it?" Mason Templar shouted angrily, his temper aroused once more by the mage's words. He thrust his drawn sword hard into the ground. "THEN CALL ME A FOOL! I am going to Jotunheim to call upon the Giants! WHO IS WITH ME?"

"Neither of you should go on your own, and there are only two of us left without a destination" Euro observed.

"There's also the matter of me having no idea how to talk to the Beast Men or the Vile Tribe when I get there." Said Drake, scratching his head."

"Allow me to be of service, then" The leprechaun piped in.

"If he's going with Drake, I'm going with Mason." Brianna broke in perhaps a little too quickly.

"Well then, Drake, it looks like we'll once again be going to a City of the Dragons together."

"I guess so" Drake smirked.

By then, tiny, winged figures began emerging from forest. Ghaleon smiled broadly "It seems my friends are ready to meet you." And just then, Phil rose out of the ground, startling them and causing them to flee back among the trees. "Perhaps not..."

Mere minutes later, Edulcore Cicciotto, the Raptor, was looking at the assembly perched on a lower branch of one of the trees of the magical forest. The snow had begun to fall heavily, and the metahuman was wrapping himself in the long black and brown feathers of his arms.

A big, back raven fled suddenly on his right shoulder. "Phew! A last second save!" said the raven.

Euro's eyes opened wide.

"I'm Nippolo, don't you recognize me?" asked the raven.

"Nip? Can you change into a bird?"

"No, no! It was one of the fairies. I was chasing the lady, and then... zap! She turned me into this bird!"

"And why?"

The bird hopped, to give the back to Euro. Then raised his tail. "See? She stripped me of... my pride!"

"Ah ah ah. Birds have just a single cloaca. How appropriate! The fairy was smart." The Raptor seemed amused only on the surface. His eyes were looking away, to a green glow on the far side of the mountains.

The bird ruffled his feathers. "Yes, very funny indeed."

Both feathered being closed their wings to their respective bodies, as the air was getting colder.

Danny looked up to the Raptor, wondering why the Italian was so silent.

Brianna was standing near Erasmus. The giant bird was cleaning one of its wings, and Brianna was finishing up lacing her corset. She looked up at Erasmus. Some deep instinct screamed at Brianna that the bird would attack, but reason whispered that this was all nonesense. After all, Templar's bird was tame.

All the same, when Templar came to the water's edge a few moments later, carrying the odds and ends for the trip, Brianna and Erasmus were eye-to-eye. Brianna's neck was craned at an awkward angle to look into the hawk's eyes. Her wings were ridged and stiff. Erasmus's feathers were raised, making the giant hawk look larger. "Eh...lass, what are you up to?"

Brianna didn't turn to Mason, but continued looking into the eyes of Erasmus. "I'm a pray animal, Templar. Well, part of me is, at least. That's why I lost myself for a little while. It seems this world want my animal nature to dominate." Neither bird was blinking. "Every time Erasmus stares at me, I can't move...I freeze...like a nervous rabbit...call your bird off..."

Mason understood. He grabbed Erasmus by the harness, forcing the hawk's eyes to divert to him. Instantly Brianna relaxed. She shook her head and stood up. "This has got to stop!" she shouted. "I can't fight like this! Mason, I don't know how I'm going to handle giants -- I may go tharn in front of them as well, and then what will happen?"

"You'd rather go with Raptor, lass? His little friend seems to like you."

"Not funny," said Brianna.

"Truth be told, little Banshee, I said in the beginning this was a man's job."

"<Move dog!!>" Zarch bellowed.

He shoved his chained prisoner a bit, the shackled man stumbling slightly. Two other Archers watched them pass, one taking a spit at the prisoner. He turned back to his comrade with a big gapped-tooth grin.

"<Now, what was the purpose of that?>" the other Archer asked, a somewhat displeased expression lining his mouth.

The first one's face went blank with attempted thought.

"<Well....he's a prisoner, right? We don't like prisoners. They're the enemy, right?>"

"<Sure, yeah, they're the enemy. Okay.>" the second nodded, folding his arms. "<But, I mean, why be mean about it? We already captured 'em. He's in chains, being pushed around by Zarch, of all people. So, do you really think spitting on the guy's going to increase his discomfort any more?>"

The first stared blankly again, frowning as grey matter sizzled on the microscopic level.

"<Oh...yeah....so, you're saying......uh....don't spit on the prisoners?>"

"<All I'm saying is, consider how many resources and the amount of energy you might be wasting on something that, in the end, we really don't care about, you know?>"

The first stared at him a moment, eyes narrowed in comprehension....and the lack therein.

"<No?>"

The second one sighed.

"<Oh, grotzits....listen, Pecklar....>"

"<I'm Fecklar.>"

"<Whatever! You're both from the shallow side of the gene-weave! My point is....what happenes if Gaolvulte does conquer it all? What if we help that leathery cows-tit rise to true power? How's that going to benefit the Clan's social status?>"

"<Well....we're wearing these pretty red hoods now, right? We didn't used to, until Bexlar-->"

"<...Gravlar...>"

"<Yeah, him.....he said that this would help us look better in the public eye, than the thugs everyone thought our Clan had become.>"

"<Toad-fucking, asinine thugs, I think his words were....>"

"<Yeah.....I never understood how we're supposed to have sex with those things.....they're kind of little-->"

"<It was a metaphor, Jeklar!>"

"<Fecklar.>"

"<Listen, do any of my words mean anything to you? Do you get my point? Just because we dress differently, doesn't mean we're different. We have to act differently. Learn to work with people, first. We could all dress up in little tu-tu's, and dance our enemies to death, and it wouldn't make a difference if we didn't act differently. Do you understand?>"

"<Heh...heh....heh...heh...>"

"<Oh...what?>"

"<Nothin'. I was just picturing little frogs in tu-tu's....hopping around...and hee-hee-hee....>"

The second Archer quickly slapped the first one.

"<No...more...spitting...on...prisoners......got it?>"

"<Yeah...yeah...got it...>" the first one replied, rubbing his face.

They stood there for a second, looking around aimlessly.

"<Still....>" the first one began. "<....he was naked, you know...and he had a small penis.....can I make fun of him for that?>"

"<Yes. Yes, you can make fun of his tiny penis.>"

Both Archers started giggling a bit. Suddenly, Zarch came walking back by again, pushing his prisoner past them roughly.

"<Move dog!! To...uhh....the other place of....death....and pain and things....down here....uh....MOVE!!>"

Zarch paused, leaning into the Archers.

"<What's so funny guys?>" he asked, a ready smile on his mouth.

"<We wuz' just talking about that guy's small penis....heh-heh-heh-heh...>" the first one replied.

The two Archers cracked up again, staring at the naked man a few feet away. Zarch looked at his prisoner, and then, back again.

"<Why.....are you checking his package out.....?>" his asked quizically.

And, with that, withdrew, shoving his prisoner further down the hall.

The two Archers stopped laughing, looking at each other speechless.

Down the hallway...

"...what were those guys saying?" Ozzy asked.

"Umm...they were just apologizing for spitting on you...." Zarch said nonchalantly.

"Oh, well they were pointing at me....so, I wasn't sure....."

"Yeah....and making fun of your tiny penis, too..." Zarch added, as they turned a corner.

"IT'S FUCKING COLD IN HERE! IT'S A DAMP DUNGEON!" Baxter yelled.

"Shut up, Ozzy!" he hissed.

"Well, let me put some damn clothes on!"

"No! They'll suspect something!" he whispered loudly. "For now, you're my prisoner, so shut up, and let's find the way out of here!"

"It's your fucking castle, isn't it?" he griped.

"No, it's not mine....nor the Archers...." Zarch said with a sigh. "...and even if it were, I still wouldn't know my way around here...."

"You still haven't explained to me why you're helping me...." Baxter said evenly.

"And, I'm not going to....we have more important things to worry about right now...."

The two passed through an open hallway, enetering into the main kitchen.

Twenty-seven peasant women toiled over the hot fires, each smirking as Zarch led his naked prisoner through.

"Dammit...." Ozzy sighed, trying to cup his crotch. "...I'm going to kill you..."

"You'd be surprised at how little that scares me....."

Danny stood at the edge of a great lake, surveying the scene before him. It was at least a kilometre or two across, possible more. Even with hawk vision, he could barely see the other side. A river branced off it and headed west. Danny made a mental note to find out where it led when he got a chance.

Priest and Adem were standing just behind him. They had just left the others and were heading for the castle where they'd last seen Ozzy.

"It would probably be easiest to go around it, rather than try and swim it or build a raft," Danny said. Priest nodded.

"...for you two," Danny added, turning to look at them.

"You're going to swim across?" Adem asked.

"Yeah," Danny said, taking off his jacket and shoes. "Can I get one of you to hold these until I meet you on the other side? I'll try and scare up some food while I wait."

"...sure," Priest said, taking Danny's jacket in his hand. He watched as Danny quickly grew himself gills and fins, and webbing in between his fingers and toes. Danny coated himself in a thin layer of whale blubber.

"See you on the other side," Danny said, and dove in.

The world beneath the surface of the water was an entirely new one. His enhanced eyes could see for quite a way in every direction, and there was a lot down there to catch his attention. A fish that looked at least two metres long passed beneath him, paying no notice to the human who had invaded his territory. The fish looked a dark purple, and moved quickly.

Danny propelled himself forward.

Drake and Euro were almost ready to go. "So, should we wear disguises or something?"

"That won't be needed. Neither of you could pass as Beast Men or members of the Vile Tribe. The Beast Men are catlike and the the Vile Tribe is made up of lizard men. Neither of you are large enough to pass for either. There are humans in that area of the world, though. In fact, it may be helpful for you to be human, since humans are neutral in that area's conflict and live among both groups. There are very few, however, so you'll quickly be spotted as strangers."

"We are ready then." If nothing else, Euro sounded confident.

"I doubt that, but we are only given so much to work with. You'll be arriving in a farmer's field to avoid startling anyone or alerting them to your arrival. it's night where you're going. Remember, your objective is to get to the Blue Spire. Do not let yourselves become caught up with one side or the other."

"Fine, let's get going then."

"Very well, Dragonmaster." With a casual wave of his hand, Ghaleon opened a rift in the air. Drake and Euro stepped through, and it was quickly sealed behind them. "Hope is so fragile, and yet it may be the only weapon we have left..."

The winds became successively colder as the giant hawk soared higher and higher into the sky. Mason had built a harness, fitting it upon Erasmus' back, in which Brianna could rest without fear of falling off.

Brianna had attempted to fly for several miles until she realized the sheer distance which the trio had to cross in order to reach Jotunheim. Then she settled upon Erasmus' back and pulled a magical cloak provided by Ghaleon's "wee folk" around her form, a cloak which provided warmth despite the arctic chill, and she soon found herself embracing Morpheus once more...

"Northward, ho!" Mason Templar shouted, startling Brianna out of her sleep immediately. She had been dreaming... but dreaming of what? Her dreams faded away too quickly to remember what they were. She hoped they were not too important.

"We're in Jotunheim already?" she asked, fatigue dulling her Irish brogue.

"Aye, lass," Templar said, the passion in his voice as usual brimming on the verge of laughter. "Erasmus is a swift one. Aren't you, girl?" The behemoth-sized pigeon-hawk seemed to answer with a dull croaking sound more easily felt by those who rode upon her back than actually heard.

The Banshee looked over the edge of the harness she rode in to the land far, far below. "Looks strangely familiar..." she said, frowning at the seemingly irrational thought.

"Aye," Templar said, his voice returning to its 'professorial' mode, "that does not surprise me in the least. In a way, lass, you have been here before."

The Banshee knew better than to contradict him, since he seemed to be on the verge of making his point. "Really?" was all she said.

"Yes, it was during your first mission with Vanguard International. Surely you recall it better than I, who have only heard about it through secondary sources?"

"Well, yes, I remember it very well," Brianna answered, "but we were sent to Siberia..." She stopped there, realizing the implications suddenly.

"HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! The young lady finally begins to understand!" Templar said. He pulled out one of the map-scrolls which had been distributed among the team. "Look there, lass," he said, pointing at the top of the map. "What do you see?"

She studied the map. Geography had never been her strong suit, though she was slowly learning. "I see... well, I see one big continent, with the largest part of the continent extending into the north. Jotunheim?"

"Jotunheim, yes, but you must realize that the Jotunheim in this world is the Siberia of our world!" He concluded this with his customary chiding laughter like one would give to a child learning how to spell and stumbling badly at it.

The Banshee was still frowning. "But... but Siberia's to the east of Europe, innit? It's in the north, sure, but more east than north."

"The continents of this world have never been separated," Templar continued. "Pangaea still exists in this world whereas our world's continents have been shifting and sliding around like pieces of broken eggshell upon water for several millennia. The entire continent of Asia, especially the northeast, once made its home in the Arctic Circle. In this world, it remains so. And it is the domain of the giants. In truth, lass, we've only just arrived upon the edge of Jotunheim. The land mass itself is vast and sparsely populated, much larger than the central, most populated part of Darkworld."

"Remind me why we're here again?" Brianna said with a sigh.

"Come on, lass! Where is your sense of adventure?" Templar said, winking at her. "Do not worry, though, milady. Remain by my side, and you will come to no harm, this I vow."

Brianna smiled at his use of "milady" and mumbled, "Thanks."

Mason Templar whispered to Erasmus, causing the bird to shift ever so slightly downward and to the left, beginning a long, spiraling descent into Jotunheim.

Templar turned around and leaned back to face Brianna. "Did I ever tell you that you remind me of a daughter I once had, a long time ago...?"

The breeze was light, tittering across dry leaves and wiry branches. A lazy strobe of sunlight decorated the wide, muddy pathway, glittering through the thick trees that lined the base of the mighty mountainside to the left. On the right, a crisp, cool mountain lake stretched into the horizon, dancing with its' own windy rhythym.

"...so I said, no of course I won't be your consort, I don't care how many continents you promise me. Well, as you can imagine the old thing was in a bit of a mood after that, but, still, I had just exposed her first-cousin's half-sister's brother's best friend from college for the traitorous bastard that he was. She was only trying to reward me for my great service, but, I had embarrassed her in front of her entire court...."

"Mmm-hmm" Priest nodded, he and Adem Different striding the muddy path.

"...so, of course, I ended up bedding her for one--ONE--night, but that's a story I only go into when I'm drunk, or wishing to scare others into abstinence. Although my brother-in-law....that bastard....once said that I brought it up when we were vacationing in Eura-Puebla Alpha...."

Priest nodded.

"We had journeyed to see the hallucinogenic mind-geysers in the Trodden Valley, and there was this woman among the tourists...looked just like her....so, of course, my mind immediately flashes to that memory cell, and the psionic feedback from the geyser itself force-fed the event in his short-term memory. I was positively embarrassed. Thus, I declared that very day that I would defintintely not count 'mahogany-yellow' as my favorite color, as it reminds me too much of her hair."

Priest nodded.

"Hmmmm...let's see....yes, I don't enjoy 'chartreuse' either, and here's why--"

"Adem?"

"......yes?"

"When someone asks you your favorite color, it is not really expected for you to go down a list eliminating your unfavorite colors, to arrive at the answer."

Different cocked an eyebrow.

"Then, how do you know which color to select?" Adem asked. "Isn't the purpose of the question, to find the spectral frequency that is the most accomodating to the individual?"

"Yeah, it is.....but, just....I don't know....pick your favorite one.....the one you choose the most often...."

"The one I choose to do what?"

"You know.....the color of your favorite shirt....."

Adem looked down at his shirt. The colors morphed and bled into different shades.

"Okay....bad example...." Priest shrugged. "....how about..............I don't know....dammit, Adem...it's just a question...."

"One that I'm finding hard to answer by your standards." Different nodded, rubbing his chin in what he believed to be the proper physical reaction. "...a very challenging puzzle...."

Priest just sighed, looking over at him.

Adem stared back in exactly the same way.

"...'Chartreuse', was it?"

"Ah, yes....'chartreuse'....my old adversary..........it began near the Kasterborous border, just outside the Delphan Sink-Hole....."

Blood painted the trees, running in long streams down the rough bark. The immediate area was littered with torn flesh, and fragmented body parts. Bodies of men, most of them no older than their twenties, were split and shredded, tossed along the ground for hungry wolfen scavengers to find. The air was humid, mass amounts of natural body heat held static in the shell of a damp fog that permeated the forest.

Merradian stood there, shaking. His breath panting with terror. His eyes wide, reflecting the soft green glow that crawled through the woods. The strong broadsword clutched tightly in his shaking grip, freckles of blood dotted the left side of his body. Not his own blood. No. The men that had just fallen around him.

It had been quick and violent. Killed.....carved....in so many minutes.

Merradian had been trained from birth to protect his village. Raised by a blind blacksmith, he had learned the ways of steel while those his age were learning to tend to the fields. He had fought in countless battles for his people, defending them time and again from the clans of Archers, or natural predators that hungered for mortal flesh. He had a beautiful wife, and was raising three children....

...two, having fallen at his side this very day.

And, in this moment, as a dark figure rounded the massive tree in front of him, Merradian knew that he had a choice.

He could run. Or, he could die.

The shadow fell over him, the softness of the green glow beginning to intensify. And, Merradian's eyes widened with horror.

But, instead of running, he simply turned his sword down, ramming it into the ground before him. The proud warrior stood there, defiantly staring down his own death. And he opened his mouth, yelling with a fierce passion....

"GOOD WILL ALWAYS TRIUMPH OVER---"

The blade of a silver axe split him across his torso, cutting short his final words. The pieces of the body fell to the ground with the rest, as enormous black boots stepped through the carnage at a slow, steady pace.

"One....true.....order...." Grimm replied, never looking back.

"There he goes, stripping down naked again," Priest half-hearidly joked as Danny's form disappeared below the surface of the water.

"He does this often?" Adem asked.

"Just about every time you turn around," the large man answered.

"An expression, I'm sure," Adem said to himself. "Still, I understand its meaning." The two began to circle around the lake.


_________________________________________________________________


As Erasmus and her riders faded into the portal, away from this strange realm, Ghaleon turned to Phil. "Now that your friends have embarked on their quests, so shall you." He sat across from the Vanguardian, the soles of his now naked feet touching together. "Allow your spirit to release itself from the physical anchor of this plane and drift among the ether that binds the universe. Only then can you project yourself into the astral plane and find the answers that you seek."

"What will I find?" Phil asked, his voice a little choked and worried. Since coming to this world, he'd been thrown deeper and deeper into a realm that he would never of previously believed to exist.

"Whatever it is you seek," Ghaleon answered in a whisper.

"How will I find it?"

"Only by looking can one see."

"Where should I look for it?"

"The destination is already known to your heart and spirit. By searching within oneself, the destination without shall become clear."

"Can you give me a straight answer for once without giving me the run around?" Phil's voice had moved into the frustration area. For a few moments, there was only silence.

"The path towards truth is not always straight, nor is it always marked," the mystic replied.

Though Phil could not see it, he was sure that a big smile hung on the man's face. The Vanguardian cursed under his breath.

"Your anger only anchors yourself to this plane. Release your emotions. Let them go. Then, you shall be free."

For several minutes, the two men sat facing each other in silence. Phil's skin began to tingle and go numb just as the moist sensation of a strange mist began to roll across his skin. He began to bob up and down, backwards and forwards, as though he sat in a boat in choppy waters. A sensation of movement, speed, began to overtake his senses. "I cant believe that done it," he proclaimed while his voice dropped and lowered in pitch as well as stop in mid echo, only to continue far within the next syllable.

"Do not doubt or even ponder the notion of doubt," Ghaleon voice rang through clear and steady. "This is only an impossibility when you dis-believe in its possiblity."

"Where are we?" Phil asked as his neck craned around to see what was not there too be seen by either him or any other eye. "I feel..... I feel.....," he searched for the word. "Knowledge. I feel knowledge all around me. Thought. Ideas. Facts. Possibilities."

"And that is what surrounds you, young Phil. That that courses around you is all that is written, and all that is being written. There lies the dawning of the Divine Age. Clerics of the forgiving gods build temples and congregations to spread peace throughout the lands. Empires grow and prosper until the vengeful gods invade and lay it to waste. And there flies your friends through the land of the Giants, Jotunheim. And two more wander through the walls of Godbolts dungeons, deep within the once proud and true Grayavale's castle."

Without the eyes he'd known since birth, Phil saw everything that Ghaleon described to him. "I only see Ozzy and one of those archers. Are you sure he's not being led to his death?"

"No, they seek not the executioner, but the gatekeeper," the sorcerer answered. "The surface does not display the truth, but hides it away within."

"Enough of the mystery act. We need to let Danny and the others know."

"We cannot. To leave this plane before the end of the journey is to ask for death, and this is merely a short stop for a much longer trip. There is still much for you to learn here in the mists of the Past and Present."

"The future! Let me see the future. That way we can stop Godbolt by already knowing what he's going to do."

Ghaleon laughed. "The ink of the Present has yet to dry, and already you wish to read the story's end. The words of the future have yet to be marked on paper. Your request cannot be fulfilled. Instead, let us concentrate on the Past, for it leads into the Future."

The gods fought in battle for eons. The creatures and peoples of the lands scattered and hid from their war. When all was done, but one god stood. For centuries, he buried his brother and enemy alike into the earth. As his final act he reformed the surface so that the inhabitants could once again build civilization. Nothing is ever again written of him.

With the blood of gods soaked into her, the soil became fertile. From it grew new life. Life created from the deaths of gods. The planet became a being herself with just the emotions you would expect from a woman. Also came forth the children of darkness and evil, fore both the blood of the vengefull as well as the forgiving gave this new life. Magiks were borne, and the world would never be the same.

Gaolvulte was a general among the Northern lands. His cruelty was reknowned throughout the nine kingdoms. Evil tempts some men, but not Gaolvulte. Evil needs not tempt those who are borne of itself. A young warlock with more ambition than wisdom set out to stop the general's rampage to win the hand of his kingdom's princess. Upon seeing Gaolvulte ride into the plains, the warlock cast a spell to strike the entire army dead. In his foolishness, he released the evil within Gaolvulte and connected it with the dark magiks of necromancy.

The general and his army were now unstoppable. His direct connection to the blood of the vengeful gods assured him eternal life. To show the young warlock his gratitude, Gaolvulte captured his soul and forced him to be his servant forever. On that day, Godbolt was borne. This is your enemy. Know him well.

Brianna's hair whipped around her face as Erasmus slowly decreased her altitude. "You had a family? I dinna -- er, didn't -- know that."

Mason didn't stop laughing or smiling, but his eye's dimmed. "I said I had a daughter, milady. I never said I had a family."

"Oh, uh...sorry...my mistake." Brianna turned her head away from Templar. "Hey, look! I think I can see a giant down there." She squinted, trying to get a better look. Mason, who's eyesight was normal, couldn't see a thing. "He's smaller that the one we saw already -- much smaller, actually. And his proportions are off -- why, I think it's a giant-child! How cute!"

Mason placed his hand on his sword's handle. "Cute. Riiiiight."

Brianna leaned so far out she nearly fell off the pigeon-hawk's back. "Aw! I think he's waving at us! He's got something in his hand. Let me lean closer..." Suddenly, Brianna's eyes went wide and she grabbed onto the back of Erasmus's neck. "Move! Move!"

"What is it, Bri? What's he doing?"

"He's got a --" Brianna went blank. What's the word? I never had one as a child! "A...catapult...stick...sling-thingie!"

"A slingshot?"

"Yes!" said Brianna as a rock hit her on the back of her head. She rolled her eyes and fell backwards, spinning towards the woods like a wounded peasent. Mason tried to spot where she hit the ground, but Banshee disappeared as she approached the woods and the snow.

Another, slightly larger rock hit Erasmus. The giant hawk wasn't unconcious, but she wasn't flight-capable anymore either. Mason held on for dear life as Erasmus crashed in a small clearing. The force of the impact knocked Mason off his hawk.

Erasmus shut her eyes, trying to sleep off the pain on the underside of her right wing. Mason fell into the snow and the mud and slid until a large rock stopped him. "Buhahahaha! Still alive!"

He looked up. The 'rock' was actually the foot of a giant. "What...are...you...doing...wandering...about...in...my...personal...property?"

The entire sentence took forty-five seconds to say. Mason stood up and scratched his back. "Well, funny story, actually."

***

Brianna felt something warm being shoved into her mouth. She opened her eyes. The giant-child was cramming oatmeal into her mouth. "Hey, watch --ubbble!" she tried to say as another spoonful was forced in.

"Don't forget to chew!" said the giant-boy. He spoke faster than his parents, but it was still slower than what Brianna was use to. "Momma said I can keep you until you're all better. Unless you're crippled and maimed for life. Then Momma said I could keep you as a pet. See?" He held up a small rope in front of Brianna. "That's your leash!"

"It looks like a noose!"

The boy laughed. "Boy, you sure do talk fast. I'm gonna feed you and pet you and play with you and name you...George."

Brianna only sighed as the 'leash' slipped around her neck. "I'm sure I'm being punished for something..."

"Ed... how is being a father?"

Drake Marshall leaned back slightly toward Euro, trying not to get off balance on the black horse Ghaleon gave him, before sending them through the portal to the Wild Lands. Edulcore was riding slightly behind him, enjoying the sight of vultures circling in the blue sky, over meadows in full bloom.

Ed spurred his brown mare toward Drake, to get to his side. "I have been with Eddie for just a couple of months. He grew in a fortress, without a mother figure, alongside people that usually first cut throaths, and then asks question. I am sorry, drake, but I am not the people that can answer your question."

Drake remained silent for a few minutes, looking at the distant forests on the slopes of the mountains, and at the shining river meandering across the plain. "Yet, how have been those two months?"

"Eh. Made me feel old. Made me feel proud everytime he did something new and intelligent. Made me feel frustrated everytime he didn't obey me. Why you ask?"

"I am going to be a father. I revealed it to Danny. I told him i was going to leave the team after this mission, to be with my woman and hopefully with the kid until my last day... that I though was coming near. Now that my healing powers have returned, and I am healthy again, the idea of being a father is something much more real... I mean, I don't know if I will remain healthy when we'll be back on earth, but at the least I have gained much more time for me... now I know I will see the kid growing..."

"If we'll return safely, Drake..."

"Yes, Ed, yes..."

On the bank of the river three men were pulling a net out of the water. One signed the two Vanguardians to stop.

"Aghal! Loorn sama deef tho?" asked loudly the oldest of the three fishermen.

falling down the sky, a black raven landed on the shoulder of Ed. "He's asking where are you going, Ed" said in English Nip the raven.

"Loola Marghut tuala plechs. Ogana shet, aghal!" continued the man.

"He's telling that further upstream the two tribes are making war, and no stranger would be allowed to pass" croaked the bird.

"Mhhh...." mumbled Euro, looking at Drake. The American whispered: "We need to find where the Blue Spire's cave is. Maybe these men can help us. Nip, ask them for hospitality".

"Loola rupth aghal totalla cashalk. Enaf pell?" said the bird. The two younger men jumped, hearing the bird talking their language. The oldest remained impassible. He nodded, and said: "Gu! Therra aghal tootal cashalk pu!" And with the hand signaled them to follow him.

"He said to follow him" explained the raven.

Euro got off the horse, and gestured the fishermen to put their net filled with fish above the animal.

In the distance, a wisp of smoke was marking their destination.

"How do we destroy Godbolt, then?" Phil asked. He could feel himself drifting off beyond the plane in which he and his guide trekked through.

"Destory?!" Ghaleon scoffed at the idea. "Gaolvulte's connection to the vengeful bloodlines makes that task beyond any you may imagine within your lifetime. Literally, thousands of souls have been captured and tortured trying. In his almost two thousand year reign, none have ever come close."

"Two thousand years!" Phil could feel his head literally spin.

The wizard guide reached out with his spirit and pulled the young Phil in closer. "Careful that you do not allow yourself to drift too far. Beyond the mists lay the voids from whence even the most powerful masters of magic have never escaped. Let not your mind wander. Instead, open it up to the knowledge you seek."

In the Land of Shadows and Spirits Godbolt made his home. There he dwelled, amassing his army and slowly moving forward. With eternity on his side Gaolvulte was content to take the lands piece by piece. A great tactician he was indeed. Not only did this allow him to dig into the earth and reanimate the soulless remains. His ever growing presence gave him the advantage of fear. A man would learn to fear the wrath of Gaolvulte by seeing the wickedness this demon-man projected upon his enemies. His sons would be made wary and fearful by the tales of horror and vileness. And they would tell their sons, who would tell their's. Soon, generations of man would be born into knowing nothing but terror at the mention of the name Godbolt.

The plague of the undead army swarmed across the kingdoms, infecting all. Graves and tombs were desecrated, robbed of their most valuable rescources: bodies to carry on the tasks as soldiers. Gaolvulte is the embodiement of necromatic energies. No soulless corpse can resist his command.

"If he can just pull any dead body from the ground, how can we stop him?" Phil seemed a little frustrated.

"Listen to more than just the words," Ghaleon ordered. "Listen to their meanings. Only soulless corpses cannot resist his desires."

"So if a soul never leaves its body, then Godbolt can't control him."

"No, not quite. A soul may battle Gaolvulte for control over its mortal form. That does not mean success. The outcome of the fight depends upon how much energy Gaolvulte puts towards the task."

Danny moved quickly through the water, slowing down occasionally to marvel at the sight of the large purple fish swimming around him. They seemed to be the dominant life form here. The sight of Danny didn't faze them in the slightest, and the smaller creatures scattered and fled at the presence of the purple ones.

He slowly approached one, swimming downwards a little. It didn't even seem to notice him. He tentatively reached out a hand, and touched the fish lightly along it's side. He trailed his hand along it's scales as they both swam forward, matching each other's speed.

The fish suddenly sped forward, disappearing into the murky waters. It's companions disappeared in a similar fashion.

They'd sensed the approach of something.

Danny was suddenly scared.

He saw something move in the corner of his eye, but before he could react he felt a huge impact against his side. The water swirled and bubbled around him as he was pushed downwards, deeper into the lake. He spun around and caught a quick glimpse of grey, scaly skin that moved quickly past him.

Whatever it was, it was big.

He swam for the surface, straining his muscles as hard as he could. He didn't get far when he felt a huge pair of jaws clamp around his midsection.

He felt teeth. Large teeth. But they didn't penetrate his skin, they just held him in place. He wasn't being killed now... he was being taken somewhere.

He caught a glimpse of the creature that had him as it pulled him further down into the lake. He saw it from an odd angle, being trapped in it's mouth, but he managed to make out a huge greenish grey body, and a massive front leg. A tail swished into vision, and then out again.

He got the impression that he was being held by something resembling a huge crocodile, at least thirty feet long.

He slammed a poisonous thorn against it's face, and found it remarkable ineffective against the tough reptilian hide.

Danny felt the water pressure increase and adapted his body accordingly. He thought of animals that lived deep underwater and tried his best to match their skeletal structure and muscle mass. The water around him grew quickly darker as he got further away from the surface, and soon he couldn't see a thing in the murky blackness.

He felt something hard slam against his back, and the jaws relax their grip on him. He realised he'd been deposited on the floor of the lake.

He lay still for a moment. The giant jaws had let go of him, but he knew the creature was still close. He couldn't see a thing, staring into nothing but blackness all around him.

He suddenly felt the huge nose of the creature prodding at him, hard. He was being pushed along the sandy floor of the lake. He wriggled out of this position and shuffled to the side.

The creature suddenly wrapped it's huge teeth around his right leg and bit down hard. Blood trailed through the water and Danny clamped his hands around the wound. He found himself motionless.

Laying against the floor of the ocean, Danny remembered that platypi have terrible vision but can sense movement around them with electrical receptors in it's bill.

A second later, he could feel the creature. It was close, swimming in a circle around Danny to cut off his escape. He wondered why it didn't just kill him now.

And then he found out.

A second signal emerged, far away but getting closer. It was a smaller creature, but soon joined the larger one.

A child. An infant giant crocodile.

"Damn it fuck hell," Danny would have said had he not been trapped underwater and incapable of speech.

Placing his bill against the floor of the lake, he placed the position of his two captors. The big one kept circling around him. The little one ducked in to attack.

Danny rolled through the water, avoiding it. The big one slammed against his back, pushing him back down. The little one whirled back around and dove for Danny again.

He couldn't see it, so he'd have to time this just right...

The instant it got close enough, Danny extended his arms and wrapped them around the neck of the smaller crocodile. He felt it wriggle beneath his grasp, and he positioned himself on his back.

He was riding it, and the croc wasn't happy about it.

"Crikey," Danny would have said at this point, had he been capable of speech and given to bouts of irony.

He heard the sound of the larger crocodile behind them, coming straight for Danny and it's offspring.

Trying his best to remember the name of the fish that lights up, Danny mimicked it's luminescent abilities. It only allowed him vision for a few feet, but it was better than nothing. He saw the jaws of his pursuer closing in on him.

Danny grabbed his mount and yanked it hard to the side, spinning them both over as the large jaws slammed shut. The prominent front teeth of the adult crocodile sliced into the belly of it's younger companion.

The baby fell limp and sunk downwards to the floor of the lake. The parent followed it down. Danny took his opportunity to escape, using his arms and his left leg to push himself forward and upward as fast as he could.

He stopped when he bumped into a stone wall. It was mostly covered with weeds and coral, but he could tell that underneath the growth was a solid stone structure.

He noticed some carvings as he wiped aside a handful of moss. Swimming along the side of the structure, he noticed that it went on for some metres. He realised as he swum around it that it was a great stone tower. A quick exploration of the area revealed that there was actually several like it.

There was a huge, sunken building down here. Danny was excited.

A sound from behind him caught his attention. He spun around to find the giant crocodile closing in on him.

"Again? How fucking repetitive," Is what he would have said at this point.

He swam through one of the building's windows, hoping to find refuge in the great stone tower. The beasts' jaws clamped around his injured leg as he tried to escape, and pulled him out again.

Danny's suddenly grown squid tentacles wrapped around the creature's jaw, and he tried to pry open it's mouth to free his leg. The crocodile turned it's head and snapped at the tentacles, freeing Danny's leg in the process. He positioned himself above it's head and wrapped the tentacles around it from above.

The creature span in the water, trying to dislodge Danny. It turned it's head and tried to snap at him, opening it's jaws wide.

Danny took his opportunity and sank his poisonous thorn deep into the soft flesh of the inside of it's mouth.

The creature instantly let go of him. Danny bolted for the surface of the lake.

Priest and Adem were standing on the beach.

"Now fuschia... there's a story," Adem was saying when Priest cut him off.

"He should be here by now."

"Probably, yes," Adem replied.

They both suddenly noticed Danny scramble up onto the shore, dragging a wounded and bloodied leg behind him.

"Danny!" Priest yelled, and they ran to his side.

"It's okay... just give me a second..." Danny said, and concentrated hard on his injured leg. Priest and Adem watched in amazement as his wounds rapidly healed.

"It's a lizard thing," Danny said. "Now, can we just rest here for a bit? You wouldn't believe what I've been doing..."

"But momma, can't I --"

"You will not take that thing out while we're eating! Now finish your dinner!"

Brianna was sitting in the pocket of her giant -- his name, she discovered, was Earl. There was nothing much to do, but listen into the giants' dinner conversation. Apparently, Earl lived in quite a handsome cave, and his mother liked to serve supper at five.

"What's he got?" asked Earl's father. Like all giants, he spoke annoyingly slow.

"Mhhh...some sort of moth or bird, I think. I thought we might as well let him keep it for a while."

"Ecspecially since Bob had to go to college!" chimmed in Earl.

"Um...yes, dear," said his mother. Brianna got the sneaky feeling that 'Bob' was really buried in the backyard. I hope he didn't die of suffucation brought on by sitting in a coat-pocket!

"Roger said he saw something funny today." Brianna listened closely. "One of those hunting birds, 'cept it was the size of his head."

Erasmus!

Earl's mother didn't seemed to impressed. "Roger tends to exaggerate. I hope you didn't spend all day gossiping with him. And Earl, please stop dipping your fingers in the mashed potatoes."

Brianna dodged some cookie crumbs. "I hope Mason's having this much fun!"

As Phil darted through the ethereal planes under the guidance of Ghaleon, he was distracted by a bright green glow off to his right. "What's that?" Phil darted off towards the light before Ghaleon could stop him "NO!"

Phil entered the green glow and noticed an extreme temperature drop. The cold clung to him as his mind was assaulted by a single thought, repeated over and over again. . .godbolt. . .Godbolt. . .GODBOLT!. . . GODBOLT!!! Casting about to regain his composure, Phil reached out and latched onto a familiar passing thought. . .

He touched a cold, dark presence, shining in the green void. He knew this one. "Oh, shit, this is bad."

Grimm turned his head towards where Phil's thoughts seemed to be emanating from. "Go away, Smith. Now." he growled at his once teammate. "Gaaahhh!" Phil screamed and jumped back as Ghaleon took hold of him and pulled him away from the green.

"That was very dangerous and foolish, Philip." The mage instructed him.

"I know. . ." Smith stared wide eyed into the distance.

*******************

"What was that?" Viluria turned towards Grimm, her naked form pressing up against him.

"Nothing of concern." Grimm answered her.

"Gaovulte will be pleased with our progress. Another city fallen in only a day." She raised herself up and straddled him.

"It's not Gaovulte's pleasure that concerns me." He ran his hands slowly over her body, coming to rest on her thighs.

"You handle the undead with a skill that almost matches his own. One day, you might even. . ." She trailed off as he grabbed her wrists.

"I'm a match for him now." She looked into the sockets, green energy pouring from them. Regaining her composure, her smile returned. "Of course, now lay back and relax, my love. We have a little time yet before the troops begin to get restless again. . ."

Outside the small building where they lay, a massive army of undead knights, archers, and beasts resided, awaiting their new leader's orders to once again go on the attack and increase their numbers. . .

Zarch and naked Ozzy were still walking around the endless halls of the fortress trying to find an exit, when they bumped into the Red Archer that accompanied Zarch earlier only to mysteriously disappear a post later (one must not concern oneself with a detail like that: Red Archers often disappear between posts, they're specially trained to do so).

"<Zarch!>" the until now unnamed archer exclaimed after recognizing his comrade, "<Where did you go? I disappeared between Mxy and Ozzy's post and you stayed behind!>"

In spite of the sitcom-like nature of the current situation, Zarch was more worried than amused. If the other archer suspected that he was helping Ozzy, he would kill him in a second. And if there's one thing Zarch is 100% sure of, it's that dying sucks.

Zarch pointed at Ozzy, chained, naked, and sporting a tiny willy.

"<This is the one that captured me. I want my revenge on him before we track the others. I sneaked him out of the torture chamber when the ones that were torturing him weren't looking,>" Zarch said.

The anonymous archer looked at Ozzy and then back at Zarch. "<I understand that,>" he said, "<but the others won't. If you want to kill him, make it outside the castle.>"

Had Zarch been a cartoon, a light bulb would have appeared over his head. Or a candle, whatever.

"<I was taking him there, but I'm afraid in my excitement and probably as a consequence to being hit in the head by this scum earlier today, I have forgotten how to reach the exit. Could you point me in the right direction?>"

"<You know, if I was a believable character, I wouldn't buy that,>" the unknown archer said. "<But since I'm not... take that hall and then make a left.>"

After thanking the archer Zarch left commanding Ozzy like a cheap imitation poodle. Ozzy didn't understand a word of the conversation, but he got the gist of it.
After they were finally outside the tower (it turned out to be a tower. That explains why they were walking in circles, Zarch thought), Zarch looked back to make sure no archers were around. Then he looked ahead. Only grass for miles and miles. He released Ozzy and they both ran away as fast as they could.

After about 10 minutes of running like little schoolgirls, Zarch stopped to catch his breath. Ozzy, who found running naked on the hills a liberating experience, noticed this and stopped too.

"Now..." Zarch said, "...we have to find the guys."

"You mean... my friends," Ozzy said.

"Yeah. Then free this place and get the fuck out of here."

"So, you want me to help you find my friends, huh?"

"Yeah..." Zarch detected Ozzy's tone. He obviously didn't trust him. "Oh, come on... I saved you!"

"Yeah, I admit you guys planned this very well! You almost had me goin' there for a sec..."

"Come on! I'm being honest! Why the fuck can't you trust me?!"

Ozzy suddenly looked very serious. I mean, more serious than before. That's pretty fucking serious for Ozzy. "Because you killed Michaels," Ozzy said.

Zarch slammed his palm on his forehead. "For the last time..." he said in a calm tone, that was soon replaced by... "IT'S MATTHEWS!!!!! MATTHEWS!!!!! It's not that hard, really..."

Ozzy's eyes widened. "...Eppie...?"

"No." Zarch replied. "I'm not Epicenter. I never was. I'm not Zarch either. I'm just using their bodies."

"Then... who are you?" Ozzy asked.

Zarch hesitated before answering. "I'm someone else. Nobody you've met before, mind you."

Ozzy looked at Zarch's eyes. For some reason, they reminded him of Epicenter's. "So, you never died?" he asked. Part of him was relieved. The other, larger part was freaked out and having a hard time absorbing this.

"I did. Kind of." Zarch sat crosslegged in the grass. "When you sent me to the woods two archers ambushed me. One of them killed me, and I jumped into the other at the last second. I didn't technically die, but it sure felt like it..."

"You 'jumped' into the other one?" Ozzy asked as he sat on the grass too.

"Yeah. That's my thing. Some are indestructible, others have wings... I jump into people by looking at their eyes before dying."

"Wow. What can I say? That's pretty heavy, man. How long have you been doing it?"

Zarch looked down. "Honestly, I don't--"

"THERE HE IS!!!" Priest yelled from afar.

"He seems to be caught in some sort of hypnotic state by the archer! Why else would he be sitting there in front of him?" Danny said, his writer desperate to write a fight scene. "Let's go kick his arse!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" Danny ran headed for Zarch, yelling and morphing his hands into giant menacing mantis claws that he waved above his head.

When he was close enough, Danny leaped and landed right in front of Zarch, who was now standing. Danny grinned as he positioned his mantis claws in front of himself, prepared to chop Zarch's head off. He looked like Wolverine standing there. A phrase like "prepare to meet your maker, scum," would have been appropriate now, but that would be out of character for Danny.

"Wait!" Ozzy said. "Don't attack..."

Danny, dying to chop this fucker into pieces, was puzzled. "Give me one good reason, Baxter," he said.

"He's Epicenter."

Danny morphed his claws back into arms and crossed them. "I hate you," he said to Ozzy.

Minutes later, Adem and Priest had arrived and Zarch had explained what the deal with him was.

"That's pretty heavy, man..." Priest said.

"I know, that's what I said!" Ozzy exclaimed. Ozzy and Priest made a high five.

"That makes perfect sense," Adem said. "First one archer quivered an arrow in your direction, hidden by the vegetation in front of you. The arrow pierced your throat and made you fall. Then another archer came, from the left I presume, and checked your pulse. That must have been when you 'jumped' into him, as you say, becuase from that kneeling position the second archer killed the first one."

"That's right..." Zarch said, amazed by the accuracy. "How did you know?"

"That's my job." Adem replied with a half-smile.

Zarch noticed that Danny remained silent. It was obvious that something other than the fact of not having a fight scene was bothering him.

"It's me, Danny," Zarch said. "Don't you believe me?"

"Yes, I believe you." Danny replied. "You're fired. Fuck off."

Everyone was as surprised as Zarch. "What?!"

"You lied to us. There's no place for you in this organisation. Now go away." Danny's hand slowly started morphing back into the claw. "Please dissobey me."

"Wait... wait!" Zarch exclaimed. "I came with you to this fucking dimension! You can't just kick me out now and leave me here! I came with you to save this place, dammit!"

"Fine. Then stick around until we get back home. Then fuck off. And until then, don't expect me or anyone in my team to trust you. Do you understand?"

Zarch looked around. Ozzy was as shocked as he was. It was impossible to tell what Adem was thinking. Priest was visibly in favor of what Danny said.

"All right," Zarch said. "I understand."

Ed, Drake and three fishermen arrived at the little village at dusk, welcomed by a dozen of people, very old men, women and children. There were just three houses, little stone cabins built over a rocky, step hill. The two Vanguardians were invited to enter in the biggest of the houses, and, much to their dismay, the horses were brought in, too.

There were no tables or chairs, and there were no rooms, for that matter. Just a single space, with a fire place in the middle. Heaps of hay were clearly the only kind of beds those people knew.

The older fisherman, translated by Nip the raven, presented himself as Romar, the chief of the village.

"When the sun set, it's not the moment to stay out, strangers. This is when the Beast men and Vile tribe make war" he explained. A little later, around a single, big wooden plate full of rice and roasted fishes, Romar told the story of that place.

"Once upon a time, this land was blessed by the gods, and nurtured a growing population of humans. There were dozen of big cities, and thousands of children. Then, it came the dragon... from the north, when the winters, year after year, became colder and longer lasting. It claimed this valley and the mountains as its kingdom, and destroyed the cities, robbing all the treasures, that it cumulated in the tower of the Blue spire..."

Drake impulsively pulled the sleeve to cover the dragonmaster mark. Euro's mind wandered to ancient memories of infinite battles with dragons... when the Eternal Champion walked on Earth with names like Herakles, Perseus, Beowulf, Saint George, Sigfried... and many others...

"The land was depleted of its richness, the humans were killed or had to leave... just a few resisted... our direct ancestors... and as the lands become less and less populated, new races came... the Beast Men from the mountains, and the Lizard Men from the southern shores. They have occupied our land... the Beast men are nocturnal, and roams the country at night, preying on all that is alive... respecting us only if we stay hidden in our home, and leaving food offers out of doors for them... and the Vile Tribe, intelligent, bipedal lizards that lives by day, coming out of their deep burrows to feed over the crops we have to cultivate for them... but when it is dusk, their respective living time cross... and they fights for supremacy, all over the land."

"Interesting..." whispered Edulcore, instantly translated by Nip. "And the dragon?"

"The dragon is sleeping its century long sleep, inside the Blue Spire tower"

"And what is that?" asked Drake, with a nonchalance worthy of a great actor.

"The Blue spire is a tall tower made of blue sandstone, built over an island surrounded by a great lake inside a cave mountain. It is known that the lake is the portal to the mittelmarks, the lands between reality and dream... a crossroads between the universes, The tower contains the treasures of the dragon... and the sleeping dragon itself..."

Drake nodded, silently, and all the presents returned to the food, when the door shut open, and a very old woman, with blind transparent eyes ran into, shouting: "I see it, I see it. Our savior has arrived! The dragonslayer is here!", her slim, bony index finger pointing at a totally dismayed Raptor.

The forest was silent, except the occassional flock of strange birds, circling the mountains high above. Their screeches, not unlike the eagles of Earth, echoed through the gray caverns.

"This is bullshit, Hearn...." Ozzy remarked.

Danny and Priest headed up the party, with Zarch and Ozzy in the rear. Adem strode between the pairs, silent for the moment. They had been walking for nearly ten minutes before anyone could properly convince Ozzy to cover himself. Priest had torn a loincloth from his own vest, the tan material barely covering the needed areas of Baxter's theoretically unimpressive lower half.

"Well, stop losing your clothes, then." Hearn replied in an irritated tone, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

The light glinted across the metallic texture of Baxter's body. After so many days, and so many battles, nearly seventy-five-percent of his physical exterior now gleamed with the dirty-gray bronze. And, as he had noticed, he was becoming heavier....

"I'm not talking about the clothes, and you know it!" Baxter insisted, his voice terse with frustration.

"Drop it, Baxter." Danny said.

"Fuck you! You can't just fire Epi!"

"Uhh....Zarch, now, please...." the archer mumbled, staring at the ground.

"I just did." the Aussie snapped, his voice tight and clipped.

"He saved my life! He pulled me out of that hellhole!" Baxter jabbed a finger up at him. "Where the hell were you, huh?"

"We were on our way to save your ass--"

"He DID save my ass!"

Danny slammed his heel into the ground, coming to a halt, and spinning around at the same time. Baxter immediately halted, he and Danny now face-to-face.

"You got a problem, Baxter?" Danny asked, his voice getting louder.

"Yeah, I do!" he nodded. "You're acting like a pompous bitch, throwing a damn tantrum!"

"This organiz--"

"I don't want to hear--"

"THIS organization depends on TRUST!" Danny's voice elevated to a full-blown yell. "There is NO room for anyone that cannot be upfront and honest about who and what they are!"

"Goddamn Smith walks around TOUTING his own mystery!" Baxter yelled in kind.

"Smith wasn't a card-carrying member of FUCKING STRIKEFORCE!!" Hearn yelled. "Remember them?!"

"Oh my god, that is SUCH a lame-ass excuse! I cannot believe you are going to try and play the 'Strikeforce' -card with me! Epi is NOT Strikeforce!"

"He used to be...." Danny stated, his voice suddenly falling to a lower tone. "....and I will not tolerate that kind of person....someone who's LIED to us from the beginning....to be part of this team...."

Ozzy's eyes narrowed with a tilted anger.

"....and, unlike you...." Danny continued. "....I won't make friends...with the same guys that killed Chance...."

Ozzy's face exploded with rage, as he instantly threw a punch at Hearn. The arm never left it's cocked-position, though, as a tight hand gripped Ozzy's wrist.

Baxter jerked his eyes to the left, Zarch holding his arm steady.

"No." Zarch shook his head solemnly. "No. Not like this."

Danny and Priest had already turned away, walking on, Adem beginning to follow them.

"...watch yourself Baxter...." Hearn replied, staring ahead.

Ozzy sneered.

"Oh, please....fire me Hearn....I dare you...."

The knights held as long as they could, their physical bodies growing weary after the hours long struggle against their undead opponents. Muscles, skin, and steel gave way before Grimm's onslaught.

The undead, for their part, pressed forward giving no quarter, nor asking none. They did not stop when one of their fellows dropped on the battlefield. Nor did they pause to think upon the destruction rained down upon those in their way. They killed, ate, killed again and moved onwards. And those corpses left in their wake. . . rose up and followed with them.

Grimm's axe cleaved soldiers in twain with one blow, as the green necromantic energy flared about both weapon and man. Viluria smiled wickedly, surveying the carnage, the only living being not touched by the ravenous hordes.

As the somewhat obscured sun sank low towards the horizon, the army continued their movements towards Gaovulte's fortress. Grimm, now leading his forces on horseback, lead them over a mountain ridge and face to face with five arguing Vanguardians. . .