SwimmingEagle121

    The castle was burning. The roar of battle filled the halls and courtyards. And from the height of the tower, none could say if they were servants of the royal guard, members of the hand, or foolish opportunists. Overlooking the fighting a lone figure stood on the balcony. His arms crossed behind him. His face that of grim concentration.    The deep shadows have upended themselves, every conspiracy, every plot, every scheme spilled forth from that darkness; arms in hand and bellowing a warcry.    The Guardian stone was shattered and from it a spirit, urging The elder princess to evil in search of power. The prodigal son returns. Riote

               The sweltering afternoon sun beat down outside the royal quarter gates. A fully armored guard stood watch nearly every ten steps. Three figures approached from within, two of Spectra's finest dwarfing a small pale woman in a black cloak and an eye patch. Shimmering blue crystals hung by leather cords around the necks of the guards. Condensation and faint clouds seemed to cling to them. Spectra's crystal boom had proven beneficial to the personal comfort of its security personnel.    Conversely, the black cloak Illysia wore did nothing to protect her from the oppressive heat. Her skin was flushed red through her pale skin. I

    The street warped and wavered as Zachariah walked down the street. The streets were devoid of life save for a few brave vendors under makeshift umbrellas and just enough clothes for decency. Zachariah fumbled with a sheet of paper as he pulled out a flask slick with condensation. The cap popped off, and a thick mist poured out from the opening. The old man brought it up to his lips and took a sip. The liquid was ice cold all the way down to his gut. He breathed out a gout of fog before he capped the flask again.    He slipped the flask back onto his hip and unfolded the paper. Upon it contained a diagram, Depicting twisting overlapping

The sounds of commotion echoed off the lordly walls. The crowd grew within the scorched remains of the hanging gardens. A lone warrior girl sat dumbfounded in the center of an immaculate circle as Zachariah faded into the crowd. The clanking of metal soon followed as men suited in armor rushed to the scorched fields with weapons drawn. Zachariah walked calmly out the royal quarter gates as the barked demands filled the air.  A screeching slam caused a rush of wind billow past Zachariah. Large wooden bars now blocked the passage into the royal quarter. The passage through the rich quarter of town was a sea of curious crowds and rumor mongeri

    The warm air caused the lady to stir. Illysia woke with a start. A dull ache thudded throughout her body as she removed herself from where she laid. Looking over herself, she found no wounds, or clothes for that matter.    The room was a dimly lit bedroom with a low burning fireplace. The bed she was in was soft and had very thick blankets. Upon a stool was her outfit, folded neatly and clean. She quickly dressed herself, noting that holes that should have been there, had been mended. A note was stuck to the stool.    “Meet me downstairs,” Illysia read aloud, “We have to talk.”    She exited the room, then hea

    “So Milliyon yells to me, ‘Zachariah! Go after the Witch and I’ll take the remaining five hundred!’ to which I say, ‘Oh hog all the fun why don’t you!’”    The old alchemist and the young girl were seated outside a restaurant in the eastern market district. The sound of footsteps, sizzling food and peddlers hawking their wares was dwarfed by the alchemist’s laughter.    “Then after beheading three of the ghouls at once, he turns to me with a grin as wide as the ocean, ‘It’s not like you could have taken them on without my help anyhow!’” Zachariah contin

    The smell of freshly-mowed grass creeped in from the carriage window. The morning sun peeked out from between the grand spires of Hightown. Dwarfing the grand structures of Spectra’s wealthy inhabitants loomed the Royal Palace. Gilded by the morning light, the castle’s polished stone lit up the lower quarters before the sun’s rays had reach them properly.    The carriage entered the palace quarter. Zachariah looked out towards the soaring towers that cut the clouds. The frontage of the castle was similarly grand, borrowing tidbits of beauty from various cultures. Marble statues of kings long past and sprawling gardens

    Wisps of fog rolled through the chilly air. Tiny pools of dew collected between the stone streets. The sky was dark, with not a single star shining through the thick overcast. Zachariah Starsmith strode down the empty street at a brisk pace.    The fog parted the way as he made his way forward. He stopped at the end of the lane. A storefront had a flickering candle in its window, and a polished white pole with red and blue stripes encircling it. Zachariah removed a piece of paper, examined it briefly, then put it away. He stepped up to the storefront door and pulled. The door opened freely as a tiny bell rang.    Several cheap stools

" Integritas mentis, corporis et animae" -the goal of The Great Work. --- --- --- ---    The first thing the maiden noticed was the biting chill of the room, despite the roaring flame in front of her. The smallest breeze cut through her long sleeping gown like a butcher's knife. Puffs of fog came from her mouth with each breath. She then noticed was the cold metal clasped around her wrists. Manacles bound her hands together. The chains clinked and rattled as she struggled with her feeble muscles to break them. Looking around for some escape, she found the chamber was wrought entirely of ice. The room was barren ice save for a rug, a table