Open Chronicles The Eternum Crosses the Channel

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Imamu could not believe what he was hearing. The way this, this... Steve was talking to him, like he was a passer-by on his way to a local College; like he was a green-grocer, like he was a fool. Did he not realise who he was talking to? Did he not understand the gravity of the situation? Imamu did not know. What he did know however, was that this Necromancer was pissing him off.

"I'm beginning to Believe the Elves were correct; the race of Man is truly dense and vapid. Now, if you-" He was interrupted by Amankh, calming him;

"Imamu," he called out to the whirlwind of fire and embers. "Fire of Lions. Disregard the words of Steve. I believe there is a discussion to be had here, one that would be far more beneficial and informative than catering and responding to the remarks of a single man, especially remarks of such a minor nature below you."

"You should learn to speak as your Leash-keeper does Steve. He knows how to talk with respect." He spoke, clearly, grounding himself to the floor, the fury that flared around him calming.

 

[TTamark]

Steve got the impression that the demon was still upset about something. Obviously this Imamu character had some serious issues he needed to work through. After Imamu's temper tantrum Steve could hardly take him serious with him trying to talk high and mighty and strutting around like a peacock. It was almost too much for Steve, and he had to turn and began to walk away, doing his best to suppress his laughter, knowing if he was found out it would only anger Imamu more.

Steve calmed himself as he thought about Imamu's unfortunate behaviour. The lad was not even able to apologies, or try to make up, the poor lad really must be quite troubled. He would leave the talking to Amankh, he was a fair bit better at being neutral. Still as Steve rode away on two potato water skis he could not help giving Imamu one last pitying look.

 

[Magnan Smithson]

“A god... well, even Gods may die.” The two, then only Magnan mutter, even as Magnan picked up the skull and raced as fast as his body would allow, bursting free of the doorframe leading towards their quarters and racing towards their mount, the chimaera Eiladsndree had appropriated from Steve. Said necromancer had seceded almost all control to the armoured lich, realising this wasn’t a moment for squabbling. He was far more adept at the disgusting acts of physical violence than she. ‘A god is... admittedly beyond even my skills. Yet you seem to have something approaching a plan. Care to enlighten me?’ She was almost certain that whatever idea such a dullard had come up with would- ‘Oh...’ She was interrupted by a flash of knowledge from Magnan’s mind, of another world, and a being of darkness. ‘Perhaps this is not as folly as I believed.’ If he was correct, then they had a chance.

Mounting the beast, the two-in-one flew into the air, skull clasped between one large hand and glowing in the night sky. “We’re only going to have one chance at this.” They mutter to themselves, as they approached the god. Magnan noted with some happiness that Steve seemed to be leaving, however he found himself dismayed that Amankh was still nearby the god. ‘It does not matter. We stand to lose far more than a single life.’ Eilasandree tried to tel him, but all her words did was make him doubt even more. At such a critical moment, this couldn’t be allowed. ‘If he were to perish, I will catch his soul before he is taken. Now Focus’ She tells him with a mental sigh, already preparing the magics needed.

They flew over the island of the meeting and after only a moment to peer over the chimaera, and to check upon the crystal vials strapped to them, they simply... slid off and into the air. They plummeted like a stone, the supernatural weight of the armoured lich accelerating them as he brought the fist holding Maho’s skull back, readying himself. Silently, Eilasandree released the bindings upon the pyromancers magic a little. The air whistled through the armour and antlers of Magnasandree’s body as the island accelerated forward. ‘NOW’ They yelled internally, as with a thunderous clap of sound, the skull containing Maho Sparhawk was brought brought forward by an armoured Lich to crash into the stolen flesh of a god, even as the body holding him landed with enough force to shake the earth.

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh breathed a sigh of relief as, despite the efforts of Steve and his blissfully misplaced innocent apology towards Imamu, the Fire of Lions seemed to calm down to a degree where an agreement or discussion could be had. At last, he could perhaps lull the multitude of questions and wonderings he's been creating throughout this encounter and put them to rest. He cast a pointed glance towards Steve as he heard the muffled and slowly fading laughter emanating from the necromancer, grateful the talking was now being left to him. "Perhaps now, we could discuss without worry of intrusion or interruption," the mummy began, returning his gaze towards Imamu, now grounded and calmed.

He opened his jaw to speak further, but a clear hesitation came as he heard a whistling come from the sky. The mummy turned skyward, his eyes meeting the quickly plummeting form of Magnasandree. Amankh rose a hand in response, frost cracking from within his skeletal visage as ice coalesced around him. Tendrils of ice wrapped themselves around his feet as a shield formed in front.

Shortly after, a loud crack shook the earth as the undead knight hit the body of Imamu. As the dust settled, Amankh simply let out a long, sustained sigh, rendered momentarily speechless by the abrupt entrance. It seemed like his desired discussion wasn't going to be happening. "Of course. Why bother with diplomacy..." He muttered to himself before trying to peer through the gathered dust.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Imamu could see the suppressed laughter of the Necromancer... it made his blood boil further. His frustruation was palpable; the absolute fury poured from Imamu like a geyser.

"You... You... YOU INSOLENT-"

What's that?

He could feel something. A presence... like a soldier holding an old weapon, or an old man seeing a familiar face. Something was definitely wrong. But what could it have been?

As he turned to his left, across from the island - in the air - was a hulking beast of a creature, a hulking example of a man, emanating necromancy. Imamu had no time to react, but what he sensed was not the skeletal creature streaking towards him- no. He held something in his hand; he seemed to be holding a skull, but why? Imamu could not figure out why a Necromancer would hold any sort of spiritual presence inside of a head. The only free souls available in the ether would have been-

In the mist of his confusion, with little time to retaliate, all Imamu could muster from his lips, staring down at the presence rushing towards him, was:

"SPARHAAAAAAWWWWWK!"

And as quickly as he'd finished that singular word, the fist of the Necromancer came clashing with Sparhawk's skull (ironically from both sides). The site was not pretty, the dense strength of Magnan's fist tore apart Imamu's face, shards of his cranium being shot across the island. Sparhawk's feeble body was grounded into the floor, where practically every bone in his body must've shattered, the sheer force of colliding with the floor shaking every limb in his being. Blood stained the grass from which they'd stood on.

It was horrific- Sparhawk's body flayed across the floor, the whole island shook by this world-breaking impact. But at that moment, not long after his body concreted itself within the floor, pressed like a seed in the soil, the body rose from the floor, rising upwards.

Sparhawk's shattered corpse began to pierce itself together, in a hideous and grisly fashion, as if a seamstress were sewing all of his sinews and muscle fibres back into one another; his face seemingly growing from no-where. Blood somehow found its way back into his veins, blood pumping back into the vessel in which Imamu resides.

Soon, it was enveloped in an inferno, the likes of which were rarely seen in all of Arethil. He floated tens of metres above the air, a sight comparable only to when the Falwood was blighted by the great flame. It was a true daemon. A sight which would strike fear into the hearts of man, and terror into the souls of Sorcerers.

"YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME, MORTAL, A GOD? AND WITH MAHO SPARHAWK AS YOUR AID? YOU'D BEST PREPARE FOR YOUR DEATH NECROMANCER, AS NO GOD IN THE PANTHEON WILL BRING BACK WHAT IS LEFT OF YOU." His voice thundered forth, changing the very tide of the sea.

In the sky, the clouds formed over-head, taking the same red hue as the bloodish flame which coveted his body.

"And you, Sparhawk. I swear, if your soul lingers beyond this night, you will be hunted for the rest of your days. You shall know no rest, no retire from the burden which shall follow you. You will be branded by the mistake you made by lingering on, you FOOL!" He began to manically laugh, knowing the utter terror which lays in wait for Sparhawk.

His hand sprung forward, splayed open, directed towards the small island from which he'd stood.

"Now taste the Fire of Lions; and Bow." As he said this, almost from nowhere, a vast, collosal sea of embering inferno rushed forward from his being. It's sheer, epic size was worthy of legend, its beautiful redness must've been viewable from tens of miles away, seemingly lighting up the sky. Imamu was very sure of his victory.

Perhaps his greatest downfall, also.

 

[TTamark]

Steve stood on the deck of one of the ships, as he watched the aftermath of Magnasandree's attack. He watched through potato goggles as Imamu's body reformed, he did not need those goggles to see the fire that followed however. Every man on the ships could see the ocean of fire that seemed to consume the island, and more frightening for them, the fire that seemed be coming towards the ships. As soon as Steve saw the fire leaving Imamu he began recalling the beads that were left on the island, though they were by design able to absorb magic, there was more chance of the Templars joining the Eternum than it surviving on the island. As did so he also called out,

"Potatoes! Bring me as many of my potatoes as you can!"

They would be needed if there would be more than just this first burst of fire, and something gave him the impression there would be. Once he had retrieved his charm, Steve threw the remaining potatoes in his satchel into the air in a wide circular formation. He did not have a chance at blocking it like the mages under Amankh had, instead when the fire hit the ward it was funnelled into a wide beam disintegrating all it touched.

Steve sipped at the pot of stew he had brought, he watched as the potatoes that he'd used for the ward turned to dust, but they had done their job, and made it so their forms no longer mattered. Who knew what else Steve would need to be prepared for. The mast from one of the ships fell, cut from passing through the beam. When the first bunch of potatoes were dropped at his feet he began transferring as much of the power from the beam into them as he could. Many were burned to a crisp, or exploded, but some were turned black like charcoal.

 

[Magnan Smithson]

“I am Magnan! I do not break! I. DO. NOT. YIELD!” Magnan’s voice roared in defiance, for once the bonerattle completely disappearing as the voice of a man long since dead echoed out within the world once more. As the tidal wave of flame and terror approached, he raised his shield before him and met the hellfire dead on, before being swallowed by the flames. His voice roared out of pain, yet he was almost entirely drowned out by the crackling roar of the fire as it boiled the ocean and slammed against the hastily prepared defences of the Eternum.

The ships rocked with the sheer force of it, and those understaffed with mages were quickly overwhelmed, their bodies retreating out of horror and fear as they watched their only defence strain beneath the effort of protecting themselves, saved only by Steve’s funnelling magic. A few would dive for the water, but would find no salvation there, their skin and bones charring and broiling within the bubbling ocean. The beam waved through the air, keeping away from the boats, but as Imamu poured more and more flame outwards the strain would continue to mount. It was looking like a hopeless situation.

Until, just a little bit, the fire began to lessen. The sky darkened, turning an unnaturally pitch black, as whisps of blue light blossomed into being before once again being snuffed out. Otherworldly whispers, far too close to many of the survivors of Pandemonium, began to be heard within the heads of all present as, slowly, a heart of black appeared within the orange-red wave of flame from where Magnasandree had last been seen. Those pitch black flames began to grow and spread out, almost as if with a purpose as it chased and devoured the flames around it.

Soon, there was an overwhelming sea of black flame to replace the orange. It roiled and crackled, yet did not harm the ships, nor those upon it. The shadowfire heaved and tossed, and even as Imamu poured more and more fire out, it only began to encroach towards him, the stream of fire steadily being eaten away at. “We are the Eternum.” Came a voice from within the flames as Magnasandree appeared once more, their cloak alight with that same dark fire, streaming out into the sea around them. “We are the agents of death.” A hand was raised towards Imamu, the fire of lions, the one destined to burn the great forest of Fel-Addas to the ground. The demonic flame of Pandemonium, dangerous to mortals, anathema to their gods, all converged towards him.

“Before us, even Gods may die.”

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

The moments that passed after felt almost surreal, too sudden for him to think on what was occurring. A flash of light suddenly emerged, a searingly bright wave of orange flames which quickly soared out of Imamu. The embers bathed the island in their burning brilliance as the sky turned to match the raging inferno that was summoned beneath. Pressing an undead palm forward, a spire of ice erupted out from the rocky earth in front of Amankh, as frost branched off in crystalline structures towards each of his pupils, who were in the midst of casting their own wards.

Fire met ice, as the impact brought forth a wall of water vapor. The flames pressed against the frost-touched wards, melting away the edges as more froze to take its place. Cold coalesced along the arms of the mummy, turning sand touched bones to an chilling blue, the hands outstretched as if to push away the inferno. A groan emanated from Amankh, summoning every bit of arcane strength he had to resist succumbing to the raging fire. Embers seared past him, arcing past the spires and wards. The mages beside him struggled similarly, pressing their palms against the ice as mana flowed out of their skeletal forms and into the wards enchanted on it.

Whispers began to enter his hearing, unearthly and otherworldly as they murmured incomprehensible mutterings, piercing the sounds of fire and entering his mind itself. It took only a moment for the memories to flood his mind; Pandemonium. Still straining to maintain the defenses, he found himself needing less force to do so. As he turned his head to see the flames screeching past, instead of seeing the familiar orange hue, he saw darkness. The inferno of shadow grew to overtake the one of fire, bathing it in a sea of darkness where even the burning light of fire died.

The shadow fire suddenly surged back, the voice of Magnan echoing out with surprising clarity among it all as it returned to its source, his cape. The inferno was extinguished, the arcing and flowing crystalline sculptures and defenses of ice still remaining. Amankh stepped out from around a spire of ice, a skeletal hand lingering on the chilling surface as he focused his gaze on Imamu. Cracks began to form across the ice like cobwebs, fragments breaking off into sharpened shards which hovered in the air. Each one, pointing at the Fire of Lions. The mages looked weary, still feeling the effects of their exertion when defending against the inferno, even when coupled with the aid of Amankh and Magnan. Still, some prepared magic of their own, aiming it towards Imamu.

"The Eternum bows to no one," Amankh declared, the ice hanging in the air beside him. "I bowed to no one in life, and I do not intend to start doing it in death." He was willing to speak in respect and diplomacy, but he was no man's servant.

 

[TTamark]

From the ships Steve stood to see the change that was happening with the battle, stopping the condensed beam. Steve saw his friend desperately fighting, and though he was a distance away wished to help. He took one of the potatoes infused with Imamu's energy, the heat from it burning his hand. Steve quickly began calculating how many more potatoes it would take to close the distance. Steve shoved potato after potato into the black potato in his hand as it began to shake unnaturally. Steve brought back his arm, and turned every part of Imamu's pure fire energy in it into pure cold energy. Two thoughts went through his head as he brought his hand forward: This might be harder than bulls-eyeing swamp rats as a teen of sixteen, back home, and whether or not Imamu's power was strong enough to injure himself. So with a mighty throw Steve let out his own battle cry,

"Leave my friends alone you big meanie!"

The words echoing as the frost covered potato flew, repeating on a loop. Steve looked at his hand, in the mere second between where he had released the converted power his hand, and thrown it, his hand had already been damaged from the cold. So this was the energy a god possessed.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Horrific...

That one, isolated word floated around Sparhawk's head, as he sat within Magnan's grasp, an on-looker at the flames which lambasted them. It was terrifying being the burned, rather than the burner, seeing the flame swallow everything in it's hunger. The grass singed and crackled as it caught aflame, it's green life soon turning to dark ashes. The soil fried beneath them, soon becoming much like a rock in the flowing magma.
______________

Imamu laughed like a god, triumphant in his total dominance over not only the mortals he fought, but mortality itself. Though he put himself at great risk - his spirit residing within Sparhawk's body - he cared not for those implications, as he was taking pleasure in what only the Fire of Lions could truly take pleasure in doing; watching fear enter the eyes of those he sought to destroy.

He watched as Magnan's shield was devoured by the starved blaze, it's immense force bringing all opposition to a halt. He took delight in watching Amankh struggle against his magic; the icy wall he had summoned could only do so much against Imamu's well of power, the hot lashes of the fire clashing with the frost, setting it into a burning sweat against the melting ice.

“I am Magnan! I do not break! I. DO. NOT. YIELD!”

"You are wise to struggle against my might, Necromancer; but you are dull for thinking you can survive it." He bellowed, seriously.

Soon, however, his attention turned to the sky; from where the ceiling of the world had taken a red hue from Imamu's presence, it quickly darkened, until it reached a deathly black. The edge of the wildfire he had created soon took the same hue, retreating towards Imamu. He'd only seen this kind of magic once before, and he knew what it spelled out for him;

The End.
​

“Before us, even Gods may die.”

"No... This is... This is NOT possible. I am the Fire of Lions! I am the Eternal flame! I moulded this vessel into the greatest Pyromancer Arethil has ever seen, and yet you defy me with this... this manipulation of Sorcery... No! NO!" He shouted, furiously.

He kept funnelling more and more of his godly powers into Sparhawk's already weakened, tired body. Already, Sparhawk's right arm and leg were wasting away, the rule of Magic still applying to him, despite spiritual aid. And yet, the more power Imamu attempted to channel, the faster the death seemed to arrive to him, the voided fire swallowing up his own, deathly blaze. A hint of fear entered him, not completely knowing the nature of the sorcery that seemed to negate his own. Whether it spell his death, or his expulsion from this realm, he was not sure. He expended whatever arcane essence Sparhawk had left in his body, to raise as powerful of a ward as he could, to keep it at bay for just a little while longer;

"This moment shall never be omitted from memoryy, Eternum. The suffering you shall experience will be immeasurable, and without mercy."

The fire began to spread to the body in which Imamu now resided, working it's way up the arms.

"And for your sake, you'd best dispose of the Hawk's soul. For if not, he shall find a new hell waiting for him." He painfully pushed through the words. He pointed directly at the skull that Sparhawk was still in, the fire now enveloping him, the red glow that once surrounded him seeming to detach itself.

Our contract may be abrogated today, Hawk. But your soul will never be yours. That, is my gift to you Sparhawk. Struggle against it all you want, but you shall never be allowed to avoid this one truth; you will now, and forever-more, be a monster.​

With that, the soul of Imamu seemed to lose it's grip on Sparhawk's body, and - within the black inferno - fell to the floor.

 

[TTamark]

Steve restocked his stew, and potatoes before hoping over the edge of the ship to water ski on back. With the fighting over there would be need for all parties to rest and recover, which meant they would need some good stew to heal their wounds, and recover their energy.

When he eventually arrived Steve began providing care,

"So... That was a thing..."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh watched the fall of Imamu in a stunned silence. Only after a few seconds of watching the body hit the ground, unmoving, did the ice behind him dissipate into mist. He turned his head, his gaze roaming between his disciples. The group of undead mages was visibly tired, resting their hands on the conjured walls of ice, and a portion showed burns along decayed flesh and bone. However, the wards and defenses prevented any fatal wounds, he observed with relief.

As Steve arrived, he nodded. "Indeed," he stated simply. "What do we plan on doing with this 'Sparhawk's' soul, now that it is in our possession and his body is now void of the being that possessed it?" Amankh gestured to the empty vessel of a body that laid on the ground before them, the ground around it scorched to an ashy black. "Whatever we do, I suggest we ask some questions first. Namely, what he was doing so close to our fleet, and why he was in the business of a being such as Imamu in the first place."

 

[Magnan Smithson]

"We shall be giving him a body, after he answers our questions." Comes a voice from above the duo as Magnasandree descends from the darkened sky above them, mounted upon their manticore with the soulless, lifeless body of Maho sparhawk chucked over one shoulder and the skull containing said soul held within the opposite hand. Landing upon the ship with a heavy whumpf, the duo-in-one jump off of their mount, unceremoniously drop the corpse on the ship's deck and... slump to the ground. Exhaustion was something rarely felt by magical creatures such as they, but merely surviving that amount of heat for that long had already drained them almost dry, let alone having to direct and control the demon fire that had sprouted from their cloak so it didn't try to eat their army.

"I leave the interrogation to the pair of you." They say, passing the skull off to Steve's hands, before slumping down against a staff. Undead didn't sleep, perse, but they could certainly enter a sort of resting state in order to help them regain energy. Of course, they were still present for whatever conversation was about to go down, but for now even Eilasandree had to admit that they were in no shape to do anything for a good while.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Oh god, what now...

"We shall be giving him a body, after he answers our questions."

Asking me questions. Makes sense, after all that has happened. Difficult to see what will happen from here. I know my body's been carried in, but will I get it back? Maybe they brought it in to add to the pile or something. I reckon Undead legions have those. I guess I have no choice but to answer this Necromancer's questions, not like I have anything left to lose anyway.

"I leave the interrogation to the pair of you."

Pair of... Lord, is that Steve? Gods, I don't think i've seen him since I tried to claim the Book of Dark Necromancy. Wait, he's going to be questioning me? I thought he had magic chickens or something... no matter.

passing the skull off to Steve's hands,

Well, at least I don't feel as if i'm going to be crushed now. Wait, now I think of it, why didn't the skull crash on impact with Imamu? Questions for later. Let's see if I can get a voice out of this thing...

"Um, excuse me... could you set me down? I'm currently... well, body-less." He rattled, the jaw of the skull somehow moving up and down, despite having no connection to the rest of the skull.

 

[TTamark]

Steve did not answer for a bit instead he just held his free hand off towards the boats for a while. Eventually, like a fish swimming on the top of the water, the water began to separate and a somewhat large and long shape began moving towards the island. Once it reached the island it became clear that it was a horde of chickens all holding onto a rope like kindergarteners.

"Ghost, would you be so kind as to hold onto Mr. Spoonhawks skull? The one his soul is in, not the passed out one, speaking of which... Nurse Joy, could you give his body compressions till we return his soul."

Steve finally turned his attention to Maho Sparhawk whom Ghost held.

"Sigh... What happened to you? First I hear that someone who fit Harrier's description showed up on one of the ships, yet I can't find 'em no matter what, and now you, should I expect that fire giant Gerra to show up now soon? That is if he somehow survived that siege of his. You know I was not far from there getting winged horses like Buttercup here," Steve pats his skeletal steed,

"Next thing I know I find out Gerra was sieging Belgrath of all places, and with none other than my conjuration professor Telemachus. Anyways to cut this short when I got there in hopes of saving some poor souls, I found very few able to be saved. Apparently something big happened. I don't know if a guy as big as Gerra would have even been able to survive it...

I realize I am catching you up, HEH, Might as well finish now, I followed another dark pulse that lead me to Elisandree, who is currently sharing Mag's body. And I decided that founding a group, where one wouldn't have to fear being killed for being the wrong race, or using the wrong magic, sounded like a good idea.

So again, What happened to you? Please tell me that this attack was all the demon, and you have not forsaken knowledge, and decided to attack strangers without reason. Because the man I met all the way back then was a reasonable man who was in a swamp searching for knowledge, even if it was forbidden. A man able to give inspiration to another, to inspire another man to create a place where men like him would be praised for such acts, and where such courage would no longer be needed. So I guess I need to ask one more question: who are you? I don't think I recognize you."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh nodded at Magnasandree's directions, glancing briefly at the long line of undead chickens arriving at the boat at the call of Steve. When the skull was given to a chicken, who for some unknowable reason was named 'Ghost' despite their tangibility, the mummy returned their gaze to the soul locked inside. A soul that seemed to be familiar to Steve, it seemed. Amankh remained silent, allowing Steve to continue on with his convenient summary of events.

A name mentioned did spark some visible recognition from the undead, however. Telemachus. The Sidereal Elf conjurer he had come across all that time ago, back when he had still wandered the Amol-Kalit. The Elf did help provide some guidance, particularly to other Abtati, and ultimately, in the direction of the Eternum. The other names brought up meant nothing, but a siege of Belgrath was mentioned predominantly. He made a mental note to ask more of it later.

"And," Amankh added to Steve's questions, "do explain your relation to this 'Imamu' being that possessed your body." He gestured to the lifeless corpse that once belonged to both Maho and the Fire of Lions, now laying on the deck of the ship nearby.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Wait- this isn't a- oh lord. Here are the chickens. Called Ghost too, gonna have to ask about that one later. Aaaand i'm being handed off to it. Goody. Right, come on Sparhawk; take this seriously. Your life could be on the line right now.

Then again...

maybe it's just better I stay dead.

Also, 'Mister Spoonhawk'?. He must've really hated me.

"Sigh... What happened to you? First I hear that someone who fit Harrier's description showed up on one of the ships, yet I can't find 'em no matter what, and now you, should I expect that fire giant Gerra to show up now soon? That is if he somehow survived that siege of his. You know I was not far from there getting winged horses like Buttercup here," Steve pats his skeletal steed,

"Next thing I know I find out Gerra was sieging Belgrath of all places, and with none other than my conjuration professor Telemachus. Anyways to cut this short when I got there in hopes of saving some poor souls, I found very few able to be saved. Apparently something big happened. I don't know if a guy as big as Gerra would have even been able to survive it...

I realize I am catching you up, HEH, Might as well finish now, I followed another dark pulse that lead me to Elisandree, who is currently sharing Mag's body. And I decided that founding a group, where one wouldn't have to fear being killed for being the wrong race, or using the wrong magic, sounded like a good idea.

So again, What happened to you? Please tell me that this attack was all the demon, and you have not forsaken knowledge, and decided to attack strangers without reason. Because the man I met all the way back then was a reasonable man who was in a swamp searching for knowledge, even if it was forbidden. A man able to give inspiration to another, to inspire another man to create a place where men like him would be praised for such acts, and where such courage would no longer be needed. So I guess I need to ask one more question: who are you? I don't think I recognize you."

Who am I?

Of all the questions Sparhawk had been asked in the many years he had spent in Arethil, this one seemed the most apt. What scared him the most, was that he could not answer, for if he answered Sparhawk, he'd have been lying.

Who am I kidding. Of course I wouldn't have been lying. If Sparhawk were a 'reasonable man' he wouldn't have committed the atrocities I have. He knew who he was. He was Maho Sparhawk. And it was an unescapable truth that, as Imamu had said, Sparhawk was - indeed - a Monster.

"Firstly, I had the choice not to attack you. It was my life, or yours. I've never agreed with Dark Magic and Necromancy, so the decision was not a difficult one."

"At Belgrath, we killed thousands. And Gerra is very much alive. I heard he's amassing an army to over-throw Amol Kalit. I tried to walk away from it all. But as you can see, I didn't have much of a choice anymore. I do not know where Telemachus now wanders, but i'm sure he got what he needed out of me. They all did."

"I'm sorry." He said, earnestly.

"do explain your relation to this 'Imamu' being that possessed your body."

"I made a deal with the gods that cost me my soul. Imamu facilitated this. He promised me the power to save my friends. You wouldn't believe what it cost me. Whatever spell was casted at me, it ripped my soul from my body, where only Imamu remained. I'm amazed you all survived." He looked at Amankh now, his glare moving away from Steve.

"Kill me now or let me go. Either way, I won't last much longer. My soul is now free game for all the gods of the Pantheon." He spoke, coldly.

"It was nice seeing you Steve. And nice meeting you... Necromancer."

 

[TTamark]

"Am I trippin', or did I just ask you a question about who you are? At least you had the good sense not to claim to be Maho.

Sigh, did you save your friends? You said Imamu gave you the power to save your friends, did you save them? I suspect that is what really matters.

Before I forget I am also a conjurer, I did train the art in Elbion for nearly 10 years so... if you need someone to look over your contract, or to understand, well look around you. I think some might be able to understand something about cost. Just keep in mind that magic always has a price.

Now back to dealing with you, whatever pathetic, snivelling, self pitying creature you are." Steve squashed a potato in between his hands and began rubbing the juices on to his hands. One hand grabbed Maho's soul and pulled it forward, still tethered to the skull, while the other slapped his very soul, and again with each point.

"Let us clear up a few things: One, I'm sorry I misunderstood your hatred of necromancy and dark arts when the only experience I have with you was what seemed to be you trying to get your hands on a book of necromancy for research.

Two: It was not your life or ours. So cut the bull sh*t" Steve smashed the knee of Maho's body with his staff
"I want to know the real reason you attacked us!

Three: Are you seriously upset about your friends using you? News flash friends exist so that they can be used. You try to help you friends, and they ask you to help when they need it. Being someones best friend just means you are the person they want to be there helping them above everyone else.

Four: Fr*ck what else can I really say?!? Don't talk like your life doesn't matter, every life matters! And probably more than anything else: Move the fr*ck on! In the very worst case you did the wrong sh*t for the right reasons, and your friends were arses. If that was how things were in the past, then find friends who aren't arses, do the right thing with good reasons again, and stop... stop making me sad."

Steve stood there panting for a bit finally looking at his red hand, realizing the pain he felt in it now. He shook it as he released Maho's soul into the skull again.

"Just prove to me that you really are still Maho, and I will return you to your body..."

"... and his name is Amankh, he doesn't like being called mummy boi..."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh listened quietly to Maho's answers, considering them as they were spoken. A raspy laugh came out of the mummy as the soul gave its first answer, however. "Do not lie to us, sorcerer. If it were not for your attack, we likely would not have even noticed your presence. If we did, it would not warrant an attack from us regardless. You were the one to start this engagement, we wish to know why."

At the mention of Amol-Kalit, his interest was peaked somewhat, as he stored that piece of information for another time. He leaned back on his staff, allowing Steve to continue his efforts to interrogate and question Sparhawk. Amankh was somewhat taken aback by the harsh demeanor that has replaced Steve's typically jovial nature. It was unusual to see this particular side of him, especially after so long of hearing him name chickens and go through proper stew-making techniques.

"Archmage," Amankh corrected Maho plainly. "I do not deal in necromancy, despite being its product." as Steve added on, he sighed exasperatedly. "Do not refer to me as that either. Ever."

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

"You... You..." He felt rage boil within him.

"I've lost everything. You- you could never even hope to understand what I had. I had a wife. I had a boy. My boy! I had an apprentice, friends..." He paused.

"That was my family. That was my life. All it took was faith in one man to destroy all of that. Don't come talking to me of- of magic having a price. You don't get to understand... the screams..."

"It never ends. You- you want to know the real reason I attacked you?" He mustered all the anger a bodyless skull could.

"The only thing I had left was my life. I have nothing. And I wasn't going to let that be forfeit for a bunch of dead-raising scum. You couldn't even let the dead rest at Belgrath, you sick bastards. I hear them, you know. All of them. And you have the audacity to scavenge the battlefield for all worthy of being led."

He turned to see Amankh; The Archmage.

"Oh, and sorry, Amankh the Archmage, but do me a favour; and go bury yourself somewhere, you insolent, body-raising, magic-abusing bastard. It's because of creatures like you that villages go barren, families ended and cultures destroyed. Bringing death and chaos onto everything that humanity holds dear. I've defended villages from your ilk, and have seen too many perish to think of you as any more beneath me. I cannot describe my hatred for you. To class yourself as Archmage is an abridging of the most vile kind. Especially you Steve. To think a Sorcerer with a hopeful future would support a cause built on so much death. It's too much to bear."

"So yes, to answer your question. I attacked you because I don't care anymore. And i'd do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. I would contract myself to countless gods if it meant I had the power to stop your campaign of extinction."

He stopped, content he'd spoken his mind.

Ready for death.

 

[TTamark]

"...Sigh You really are a fool...

Your words against me I easily forgive, after all you simply don't know nor understand. I will admit I have never taken a wife, but I have born a child. You know what it will be easier to just show you."

Steve placed a potato against Maho's skull, and smashed through it with a head butt. Maho was then able to see some memories from Steve's perspective. The first was in a college of Elbion dorm, vision impaired by tears, A chicken lying motionless on the desk, Steve's voice begging for his only friend not to die. From the chicken only the bones rose up, and through the familiars bond a voice asked who he was. the vision switched to Steve waving goodbye to his Will his dad. "I believe in you Steve, you go an save the world, I know you can do it." Behind his dad was a woman he had just rescued, named Kerastrina. The vision switched again to Steve holding his father's lifeless corpse two daggers stuck in his back, Steve promising he will. Next came Steve letting go of a young girl's hand on a farm, dark raven hair, white skin, eyes just like Steve's and freckles, in here hand a stuffed chicken. The next memory was the same farm, but this time everything was destroyed by fire, the once living, and undead alike in a pile their bodies still smouldering, half a stuffed chicken lying next to it.

"Your not F*cking special... Now imagine what it might be like if the world you woke up in was not your own. To have had the world itself stolen, along with your world itself..." Steve's eyes moved briefly to Amankh

"You hear the screams of the dead do you? HA, you should take up the black robes then, but let me ask you this: did you also hear the cries of the dying? I suspect not, lest I would not have had to put so many out of their misery. You left destruction in your wake and ran like a coward. I offered the dying a choice: They could live on as the undead, or I would hand them a weapon and they could die a warriors death. Where were you? Did you stand there holding their hand commending them on a good fight, or did you run. You accuse me of raising the dead, not one soul was dead when I found them, but they all were when I left. I had the audacity to scavenge the battlefield for all worthy to be living.

HEHE, and your words, 'To think a Sorcerer with a hopeful future would support a cause built on so much death. It's too much to bear.' Tell me, do you not hear the hypocrisy in your words? Let me tell you a little something while I am at it, something I believe is unbelievably important for you to hear: Neither of us did anything wrong. We just both dare believe in something. We both dare to believe in doing good even when it is hard. And you do not need to be forgiven for what you did in the siege, but everything you've done after it, and I will forgive you. I won't pretend to know what you lost, but now you know what I have."

Steve turned to Amankh, "It is obvious he wishes to die, do not make it easy for him by giving him his wish."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

As Maho continued to speak, the sound of cracking ice could be heard getting louder and louder from within the mummified undead. Crystals of frost began to form across bones, as every word uttered seemed to cause a new wave of anger to come over him. A deathly, cold silence came from Amankh, a building chilling mist creeping out from underneath his clothes and rags. The words that threatened to be unleashed were kept at bay, however, as Steve replied.

Once Steve finished with his own answer to Maho's claims and declarations, Amankh finally spoke, the voice a harsh tone. "Hope? You think I cannot even hope to imagine what you had lost?" The grip around his staff tightened, shards of ice crystallizing at the touch. "I had a daughter! I had a wife! A family to care for, to protect and love. Students, students I wished to see grow to become colleagues. I had a people!" The words came out loud and declamatory, seething with a boiling anger. A moment of silence passed, as the word hung in the air, a quiet anger bubbling within it.

"All of that, ripped away from me without warning. And yet, you claim to be the only one to lose." A sigh escaped his jaw, visible in the ocean air. "Do you truly believe all creatures," the word came out bitterly, "chose to be risen? To be torn from their afterlife? To return to a world forgotten and changed? That we all are mindless puppets to be tossed at villages, playthings to some necromancer?" Amankh took a step forward towards the skull, craning his own down to it. "We deserve no remorse, don't we? Murderers. Only good for massacring the innocent, sieging cities down to their ashes, all at the behest of another. And yet, that's not true. Not for one of us, at least."

The mummy tilted his neck, as if to consider the soul trapped within. "Death would be a quick mercy for you." For a moment, the mist around Amankh swirled around the skull, a piercing cold grazing the soul imprisoned inside. It would be quick, painless, even a silence to the mortal's degrading speech. Satisfying, even. A frozen embrace would grant him the death he so dearly hoped for. Hoped for, but not needed. The cloud of frost slowed, circling back to its summoner.

"A man only living on self-pity and nothing more is not a man. It is a corpse walking. Giving you the death you want will do nothing, but condemn you to this life forever. Consider this a chance to redeem yourself, and atone for what has so deeply haunted you. Start a new life, if you wish. Bound to no contract or leader, begin anew. With us or elsewhere, it matters not." He gave a deep sigh, the rage that had been seething, barely managed and threatening to spill, since calmed and largely subsided.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Their words run in his ears.

His words, although not directed at Amankh, had clearly struck a chord with him. Sparhawk knew nothing of the Archmage, but as he spoke with eloquent speech, describing all that he had lost, all he could do was listen.

He found it strange, even to himself, to mention his son. He hadn't even spoken of him in over 10 years, yet the wound seethed as if it were made yesterday. Sparhawk could understand how Amankh felt. To lose someone so close, and to want to protect someone so dearly, and living with the knowledge that you could have saved them, if not for your own lack of foresight. Sparhawk felt like screaming.

He looked at Steve, the memories of whom he had just seen.

"I don't doubt your pain. But... he was my boy. Only a father could understand..." He looked to Amankh.

"I've taken my fair share of lifetimes. I guess you're offering some sort of second chance. But... I'm tired. And I wished i'd just stayed home. Why didn't I just stay an adventurer..." If he had tear ducts, he knew they would have been running. He paused for a short while.

"I hear them every night Steve, you know. The dying, i mean. Their screams. The pain that never ends..."

"I... I didn't-" He stuttered.

"I didn't mean to..."

"I'm sorry..."

"I'm just sorry..."

 

[TTamark]

Steve motioned for Ghost to put Maho down, as he went over and picked up the small pot of stew, that had grown cold from all the drama. He slowly stirred the contents with a wooden spoon while he used his other hand to heat the stew. Steve made his way back, and stood between Maho and his body,

"You know I always find stew to taste better the second time around."

While Steve talked he placed down the pot, and picked up Maho and held a potato above the skull,

"When you reheat it, it causes the flavours to awaken even stronger than their first time."

He pulled Maho's soul into the potato,

"I think it would be a waste to throw it away now, don't you?"

Steve shoved the potato into Maho's body's chest where it seemed to pass through,

"Especially when it has so much flavour to offer now."

The last sentence could be heard from Maho's own ears. Steve then sat himself beside Maho, the stew in between his legs. He pulled out a wooden bowl which he filled with the stew, before offering it to Maho,

"Here it will help with your knee... Most people tell me that it tastes so good you might say it was to die for...Heh..."

Steve just let the joke hang,

"Listen... I might just be a fool who thinks he can save the world using magic he was taught since day one was forbidden, and found inspiration from a man who just tried to kill him, so again I might just be a total fool, but I want to pass on some words from my father: '

...Do you know what you do with all that pain? You want to know where to put it? You hold it tight till it burns your very existence, and you say this: No one else will have to live like this! No one else will have to feel this pain! Not on my watch!'

Now... stop acting out like a man-child, and just wallowing in self pity! Stop letting your emotions control you, and instead use your emotions. Let them be the fire below you that make you better. Be a good stew!... Please!"

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh stood in silence, empty eyes wordlessly watching Steve as he returned the wayward soul in its former body, leaving the skull motionless on the deck. With a wave of his hand, one of the nearby undead grasped the empty skull, leaving the premises with it. The empty vessel taken care of, Amankh returned his gaze to Steve and Maho, still listening to the necromancer's potato stew metaphor. It was unorthodox, but it worked well enough.

"It is so easy to submit yourself to a fate of regret and pity. Do not make that mistake." He shook his head, returning his staff to his back. "Instead, accomplish those wishes of yours. They may seem distant now, but every journey does. Find a new home, a new passion."