Paradise Lost

[MistaRob]

Markus stood and watched over the open fields of his farm as the final rays of sun were fading over the mountains. Fall would be coming soon. He felt the days getting shorter and soon it would be time to plant next years crop before wintertide. As darkness crept over the Rolling Hills he watched the final ray disappear over the mountains leading to the Wastelands. He let out a sigh as now the only light that remained was from the storming clouds that circled over Mount Hel. He was close enough to watch the lights flash over The Forge wondering the source but that was for those of the council. He would be too busy worrying about whether or not the rains would come for next years harvest.

He started to head back when he saw something. By the old stone archway that stood in the middle of the fields, like a sore on someones nose. At first he thought it was nothing, maybe a bird but then it happened; a spark at first then a ripple and finally a surge of energy that erupted from both the heavens above and the ground below. It took Markus a moment to realize he had been blown backwards by the explosion that shattered the archways but that realization left him with a more shocking one, the figure standing where the archways had once been. He couldn't see the figures face but he could see the figure had skin paler than ivory. The figure was cloaked in a fabric that looked as if it had been torn from the cosmos itself. As Markus began to stand to his feet he watched as several of the village guards rush towards this new stranger. The figure held out his right hand open and began to speak, his mouth seemed to make no noise but rather his voice seemed to carried from the ground and air. It was a language that Markus had never heard before, it seemed to be several languages and none. The figure finished whatever he had stated and a beam of energy left his hand, evaporating one guard. He caught the second guard by the neck with his left hand, lightning seemed to travel through his fingertips electrocuting the second guard who went limp in the figures hold. The figure dropped the guard and began to hover above the ground slightly, chanting. The last thing Markus would see was the figures eyes when he looked up. They were every color and then none. As Markus stared at the figure all other things seemed to stop. All sounds, all actions suddenly seemed to froze and the figure finally spoke once again I am become...

Markus wouldn't hear or feel the explosion as he was engulfed in a white light. He was trapped into the figures gaze. When the dusk cleared there was nothing. No figure, no Markus, no village. The entire area had become nothing more than a sheet of glass.

Several weeks later.

Haden walked through the main floor of The Factory. The main floor would have been hell to an outsider of The Forge, with deafening sounds of workers crafting weapons by the hundreds along with temperatures well beyond an outsiders tolerance but Haden strode by without notice, a master of the flame and a Vulcan for well over a decade meant he had gotten used to The Factory. The workers were finishing up a weapons shipment that was leaving tomorrow. Haden thought it was strange at the size of the shipment, more than enough to equip an army but business was business and he had more important matters. His objective was in one of the private workshops in The Factory. He now entered the private area and the noise went down but the temperature remained the same. He marched into one of the rooms where a figure was hammering molten steel and stated "We're needed.

The figure turned, aside he was wearing very little protective clothing, not that it mattered as no other factory worker did either. His skin had been bronzed and hardened by the heat but also pot-marked with scars along his torso and back. Two symbols had been burned into the left side of his chest. His hair wasn't long but it wasn't kept well. He looked as though he had been in the shop for at the least a week, the signs of a true factory worker and one who grew up in The Forge. He lifted his goggles, revealing an eye patch covering his right eye.

Haden shot back again "Did you hear me Ronzor? We're needed. Your shit will have to wait Ronzor took off goggles, "Has Darius returned? Haden answered him, "I don't know, Master Haleth says we're needed, so we're needed.

"Master Haleth? Oh shit! Ronzor repied, he tossed his goggles and hammer onto a near by table and began to run by when an arm stopped him. "What the hell is that on your neck?" Haden questioned him. Don't tell me you've been using that shit again. He shook Hadens hand free. I've been cutting back, half a vial a day which is better than most.

"That shit's gonna kill you eventually!" Haden snapped, You know those fuckers out in the wastes put all sorts of shit into it. Ronzor snapped back "I make my own! Mines pure. I know what I'm putting into it and therefore I know I'm not gonna be poisoned by some third rate low quality RI! Haden just shook his head "It's still gonna kill you eventually...

"Maybe... Ronzor replied, Maybe I'll be dead before it gets the chance. The two then left the factory and headed towards Mount Hel. When they got there the realized they weren't the only ones that were called. All the other Vulcans stood assembled, with Master Haleth sitting peacefully on a step, the lava below roared and calmed as Haleth spoke"My sons... A cry of agony cut him off. The other members stared wide eyed as a figure limped into the sanctuary of Mount Hel. He was bleeding, badly, what's worse, he was badly burned. The figure known as Darius fell to his knees in the middle of the sanctuary. The others rushed to his aid and dragged him over to their master. Haleth looked down at Darius, "My son. What happened? Darius struggled for breath and for words all he could muster before losing consciousness was "I saw... I saw. Him!

[Akira Avelon]

It was night by the time a young hooded figure came into the Lazy Swan Tavern within the small village near what was known at the edge of the wastes. The mountain range that held the Forge was at least a week away by foot.

the figure had found a lone seat near the bar as she looked around and finally pulled her hood down. The bar tender looked at her strangely and asked what she' would have liked, though if she wanted water, she'd be best to go out and drink with the horses.

"No, but some Marlies Ale would be nice..." The girl asked as the bar tender blinked, but then realized what she was, seeing a small emblem under her cloak.

"Aye, Journymen... Haven't had one of you around here for a while... Yet.. are you really one? you look too young to be."

"Youngest so far... But I'm more into looking or a room for the night. The Ale is just to sooth the pain of my feet from all the walking I've done for the past two days..." The young woman said as she eyed a few men coming her way, drunk as well it seemed.

"And sooner the better, I don't want to cause trouble here.." She said as she moved her cloak to show her weapon as he shined deadly in the rooms light.

The bartender saw it and looked at her. "how much you willing to spend?"

"Enough to be left alone for the night." the woman replied as she lifted her hand and placed fifteen gold coins into the bar tenders hands. "Aye! second floor, third room from the left. Shall I send a bottle of ale to the room?"

"Do as you like. I'm not paying extra..." The woman said as she got up and took the keys for the room and started heading upstairs to the room she had rented. Leaving the ruckus downstairs before it could actually start.

After getting to her room and locking the door back up after going inside, the young woman sat on the bed and took the cloak off. A pair of snow white wings outstretched as she laid down on the bed, placing her staff/axe like weapon beside it and looked up at the ceiling. "Ceoura... whatcha gonna do next? " Ceoura said to herself as she wondered just where and what to do? She had been following her instincts for some time now, but everything that she had been following, her gut included, had ceased. was she in the right place? Hell if she knew. But she' was still there and her curiosity would eventually get the better of her.

[MistaRob]

Ronzor hadn’t left his mentor’s side since he had returned. The wounds had been cleaned as well as they could but they wouldn’t heal. It had been three days at Darius bedside when Darius’ finally awoke, his eyes wide. “Master!” he tried to speak but was interrupted by his mentor’s hand reaching for his throat, pulling him close. His master’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Find!... You have… Must… Must become… Become… Way… Of the Lost one… Knows the way… ”

“Master!” he tried to speak his master’s hand left his throat but reached his face, his thumb pressing upon his eye patch; searing pain shot all over his right side of his head. Darius spoke one last time. “The path is not seen.” He breathed one final sigh, and his hand fell from his student’s face and hung over the side of the bed, lifeless.

“Master?” his voice trembling like it had been all those years ago when he was just a pupil. “Master?” He finally ran out of Darius room screaming “GET THE HEALERS! FOR THE LOVE OF THE CANDLE GET THE HEALERS!”

A week had passed.

Jordan strolled around The Factory in a casual tone despite the noise and heat, he had been on the upper floors in the private workshops but was now on the main floor His spiked short hair, trimmed beard made him a dead ringer for Haden, given they were twins, yet his wild eyes and almost carefree nature was how everyone separated the two; where Haden was focused and serious to the point of being a machine. Jordan was a free spirit, always looking for fun. He walked towards one of the workers and shouted so his voice would carry over the machinery. “You see Ronzor?” The worker replied with a confused look. Jordan sighed and shouted again. “Ol’ Red. You seen Ol’ Red?” The worker smiled and nodded, “The temple!” Jordan shrugged, nodded and left The Factory, smiling and shaking his head. Ol’ Red was how everyone outside of Mount Hel knew Ronzor as. It was as much his name as a nickname in the factory and rest of the forge. It was actually a shortened version of another name others had given him but no one called him that name in years.

The temple was empty as he entered it. Had been empty for some time since the Candle had gone out, save for one individual, sitting in the pews, the only light shown in came from the open windows. “Behold the Creator. So great even the Red Eyed Devil sits in his house.” Jordan called out.

Ronzor stood calm and turned. His good eye stared, his body tensed and then relaxed at seeing who was talking to him. “What do you want?” “You.” Jordan walked over and sat down where he had been sitting. “Wondering where you’ve been. Haven’t seen you in either the pits or in the shops in awhile.” Ronzor sat down and stared towards at empty space. A time that seemed long ago, the great candle, a flame hovering above a chalice filled with blood of ancient Vulcan heroes and legendary figures. Then the flame had gone out and that’s when the trouble started.

Jordan continued; he was known for talking, even in times of peril; either talking or looking for some adventure. He was older than most of the people he knew by atleast a decade yet almost none knew it by the way he acted. “You remember the last time we were actually alone in here? It must’ve been ages.” “How can I forget.” Ronzor replied; he lifted the eyepatch, his left eye was calm blue, his right eye, closed had small veins crawling around it. As it opened Jordan smirked and theought The Red Eyed Devil indeed.. It was a menacing red, with a strange milky look to it. He knew that Ronzor couldn’t see out of it, had been blind in it since the “incident” all those years ago, yet its gazed at him, seeming to stare into his very being. Ronzor had long ago learned that no one could be comfortable staring into it and covered it back up with his eye patch. It was for the best as even keeping it open for too long caused him pain.

With the eye patch back on Jordan managed to continue. “You have that look about you. Like you’re going to do something stupid, dangerous and irresponsible.” It was one of the few and far between occasions where when he spoke it was actually meaningful. “Well as the elders say.” Doing his impression of one of the old temple priests “The candle guides us on our path, and like the candle it is our duty to push back the darkness and light the way so others can see it. We must look to the candle to find our path.” He chuckled at his own impression and sat back down.

Ronzor smiled and muttered “Look to our own path…” He stopped midway, his eyes locked at the darkness. “What is it?” Jordan asked, showing another rare moment of actual concern. “Nothing…” Ronzor replied. Indeed he hadn’t seen anything, not out of the eye that could see but what the eye that couldn’t, or shouldn’t be able to see saw. “And It was brief, barely a second long but for him it felt like an eternity, for one moment, he thought he saw the candle lit again. The path is unseen. The lost one knows the way his master’s voice whispered in his head. He rose from his seat. “You’re right Jordan. Celebrate it. I think I am going to be doing something stupid, dangerous and irresponsible.” “And what would that be?” Jordan asked. Ronzor didn’t answer but Jordan followed his gaze out the window of the temple. The Gates were in plain view. Oh no… Jordan thought and smiled.