Onward, Doom -- Part Two

Chapter VI: For Glory!

         Buldingar walked slowly forward, his claymore firmly in his hands, his eyes set firmly on his opponent, Jinth. This man he faced was over six feet tall and wore heavily plated black armor. He wasn't afraid of this man, but he wondered what his power might be.
         Jinth lumbered slowly toward him and revealed his weapon, which was a mace-flail similar to Arghness', though quite a bit larger. He swung it around mercilessly; his eyes spoke of unending hate, though his mouth was silent.
         Buldingar had only his large claymore, and that's truly all he needed. No shield was necessary when he could heal his wounds, given the necessary time to pray. It was he who rushed in first, hoping to catch the lumbering oaf off guard, and he succeeded. He stabbed the fine point of his sword into the underarm of Jinth. His foe reeled, grunted, and then swung the flail at the weapon being retracted from his arm. Buldingar's weapon was struck by a massive force, dislodging it from its owner's hands, careering over into the dirt ten or so feet away. Buldingar knew he was in trouble. He sprinted for his weapon, holding his wrists which were still reverberating from the collision.
         The flail indented the ground directly behind him as he ran, and with a dodging roll he grabbed his weapon again. He turned around and faced Jinth again. Buldingar decided he would need to disarm his foe as its power he had underestimated. Jinth must have seen him eying the chain connecting his weapon, as he grabbed it by the chain and began to wield it as a mace. Buld rushed with his claymore over his head, and decided to meet the mace head-on. The two weapons clashed, and sparks flew. The taller man lifted the spar higher to gain leverage, but Buldingar's weapon was clearly superior, so as he did so, he began to be pushed backward; and subsequently off-balance. Buldingar seized this moment and swung a large blow at the man's chest. It did not pierce the armor, nor even scratch it, but merely reflect. Buldingar retreated a few steps to regain his composure.
         His enemy was laughing now. "So you see, my armor is impenetrable by a weapon such as yours! You lose, forfeit now and I will spare your life! You will not get a chance again to strike an unarmored point as you had before." Buldingar laughed in response.
         "Don't you know who I am?! I am your nightmare, I am unkillable. Your armor may not die, but my body may not die. That is the difference!" Buld said. The crowd was ecstatic.
         Jinth was enraged by this comment, and bounded toward Buldingar with his flail swirling like a hellish hurricane. Screaming, he lifted his flail about his head and brought its full fury down upon Buldingar's blade; which was in a defensive position.
         Buldingar's blade crushed against his own armor and flung him backward to the ground. Jinth retracted his flail and starting whirling it around again. Buldingar lay dazed on the ground, unsure of what to do. His wrists were crushed and broken by the last collision, so he could no longer reasonably wield his blade. He needed to do something quick. He lay there, in the few moments until Jinth was to strike again, his training at the monastery. Yes, they trained him in many of the martial arts, hand-to-hand combat and his feet!
         Jinth moved forward again and swung down his mighty flail at his chest, but this maneuver, Buldingar saw, was at the expense of the oaf's balance. As the flail was coming down, he swept out Jinth's legs from under him, and the flail impacted the ground inches from his head instead.
         The beast of a man fell to the ground, but quickly regained his composure, but by then Buld was to his feet praying for himself with as soft a voice as he knew how.
         His wrists straightened themselves and became as if nothing had every occurred. A calming peace flooded his mind, but he knew it was only an illusion, so he summed his courage and determination and picked up his blade.
         Jinth looked quite possibly flabbergasted by this turn of events. He must be contemplating how it was possibly that this man is able to wield a sword, but then his face showed understanding, and he said, "I see, so you aren't all talk. No matter. I will bash your head in so that you may not use any powers at all!" He prepared an indomitable stance, with none of his weak points exposed, and his flail as ready to strike as ever.
         Buldingar stood with his claymore shifted down at his side; the point angled directly toward his opponent. He knew what he had to do, and he was sure his enemy did too. It would be purely a matter of skill.
         There was also an art to it; the art of killing but not killing. It was necessary to defeat the opponent, but it was against the rules to truly kill the other, that was murder. So, he knew that Jinth's farce about bashing his head in was quite untrue, or was it? "Would he just kill me, and suffer the consequences?", he wondered. He knew he had to strike vital points, well, vital enough to subdue his enemy but not lead to death. Jinth did not so much as move; just whirling that flail mercilessly. So, it was up to him. He rushed forward and feigned a strike for his opponent's jugular, but curved it masterfully to strike the opposite underarm as before; the other was still bled mildly. It punctured, but even though he struck Jinth's sword-arm, that did not stop the beast from striking. The flail came down upon Buld's left side, the spikes entering his flesh. He gasped and reeled. No time to heal, it's now or never. With the flail still attached to his size, he jutted the point of the claymore into the mongrel's left ankle, and quickly into the right as well. He made sure to sever the tendons completely.
         Jinth groaned and dropped the handle to his mace-flail entirely. He crashed to his knees and grasped his ankles while screaming profanities at Buldingar. He then put his claymore to the man's throat -- for show -- to deliberately announce victory. The crowd was raging, screaming for more, but the announcer shouted for silence. After a time, a man, meant to judge perhaps, entered the field and after inspecting the wounds on both, announced Buldingar the victor of this round. The judge told him he was to head back into the entrance he came from, and await the next bout. He sheathed his sword, and gave the crowd a victorious wave and departed.
         Arghness, upon watching this all, was extremely relieved now, but he knew it was not over, it wouldn't be over for many hours of grueling battles. He was glad that Buldingar had won, but did he absolutely have to cripple his opponent in such a ostentatious fashion? Oh well, that's just how he was.
         The announcer began yelling again, "What a rousing beginning match! But, my fair people, you haven't seen anything yet! This next match is between two powerful sorcerers, as they have been called. The first, Shauni, hails from the wizardly province of Newhaven, across the world and beyond! The next is a man of powerful stature, and power indeed, Sir Lord Griffinath of Scarbaugh, of our own province! Get ready for the fight that will blow you away!" And the doors came down again, with the figures solemnly approaching; sizing each other up intently.
         The female, who was enchanting in her appearance, raised her arms in a seductive manner, as if caressing the air. She had long red hair, down to her back, with small clasps to keep it controlled. She wore a long black gown that showed -- ever so subtly -- her tight hips and arching back. Arghness leaned forward on his seat with much interest. She began chanting quite a few lines of some unknown language and a fiery essence surrounded her. She was no longer visible behind the flames, as the flaming barrier began to swell and swirl rapidly.
         Her opponent, His Lordship, was not amused, and began a chant of His own. The ground swelled and cracked and sundered. A great blazing chasm appeared and a demonic figure straight from the pit of hell appeared. It was a beast of a hound, larger than any man, with a deathly green glow emitting from its charred skin. Its eyes were of pure hate and mindless rage. It snarled with a ferocity of no beast, but of a devil.
Many of the closer attendees began to cower and moved as far up as they could. Even the Mayor -- who hosted the event -- seemed quite petrified, but he moved not.
         The fiery tempest of Shauni rocked back and forth and began to encircle the beast as a tornado would some cattle. His Lordship backed away and shielded his eyes from the flame, but pointed his finger at the beast demon, commanding something inaudible to Arghness. The beast then stamped the ground and whipped itself around violently, no doubt trying to find Shauni in the sea of flame that block its every move.
After many ferocious swipes, the flaming mass moved in upon the demon and engulfed it. Argh looked intently, squinting to see beyond the fumes, to see the woman upon the beast's back, apparently flogging it with her whips of fire. The beast yelped violently, and its concentration was completely lost, since His Lordship had been for some time shouting commands that fell on deaf ears.
         After a time, the beast smoldered to ash and Shauni arose from the ashes, walking so very confidently toward Him. He backed away and began wildly chanting other words, but no chasm emerged this time. She closed in upon him in moments, and offered him a chance to surrender.
He then pulled a dagger from his garb and waved it around at her, like a madman. He was shouting things like "do you even know who I am?" and "you won't get away with this!" Does He really think there is any use in political power in an arena such as this?
         Her flaming whips, which seemed to sprout from her back, disarmed the man in seconds. He cowered up against the wall. The whips lashed at his legs and arms. It must take her much effort to control her power so precisely.
         As Sir Lord Griffinath began to be overwhelmed by the lashing, the ground again sundered and crumbled, but much larger was this divide. It encompassed most of the arena. Out of the depths came a similar demon beast, but this one was at least ten times larger.
         It roared, and the crowd began silent besides the scattered screams of terror. The ground shook with its every move. The ground had closed up just as soon as it had opened, same as before.
         Shauni turned around from her opponent, who was now slumped up against the arena wall, seemingly unconscious. She had the most quixotic expression then; a look of amazement and fear all the same. Probably had to do with the beast having a mind of its own with its supposedly 'master' incapacitated. Danger, certainly, Arghness knew that.
         It seems the judge was also attempting to come out to assess the wellbeing of His Lordship, but he was too afraid of the beast to fully enter the arena. She would need to dispatch of this foul creature before any determination could be made by the judge. But could she do it?
She looked rather determined, studying the creature intently, looking for weak spots most likely. She would not be able to completely engulf the monstrosity with flame like the other, or perhaps maybe so.
         Suddenly, the a great vortex came from directly underneath the beast, suctioning it back down into the earth. It did not want to leave so easily, but whatever it was that pulled it was strong indeed. In moments, the demon was gone entirely.
         The judge ran over to the man who had taken quite a beating, and declared him alive, but unconscious. A few aids came to retrieve his body. Shauni was declared the victor and escorted back to her tunnel; the same one as Buldingar had come from. Perhaps they had even met.

Chapter VII: Bloodlust, Vengeance,....and Faith?

         Many more fights had ensued. One with a very elusive gentleman who wore a sort of large hat that looked like an inverted bucket as well as a rather fancy suit. He faced off against an elderly fellow who had seriously potent telekinetic abilities. This man merely sat upon a boulder left over from the rancorous hellhound sundering and flung things every which way while the sly man dodged and disappeared amidst the rubble. Eventually, and I dare say it was probably somehow the old man's doing, but the young assassin bested him.
         Another fight involved a wise shaman-like individual who controlled the weather in its entirety. Arghness wondered if it was indeed the man that had plagued him long ago, among the wolves, and that man. Perhaps there wasn't much doubt in Arghness' mind, as this man faced off against no other than that man. Maltorius, to be exact. They had a certainly epic battle, though he did wonder where the beasts that were controlled came from. Maybe from the gates, or the stands, but with all the hurricanes and blizzards and scorching suns that came from the shaman, who could say? Eventually, the controller of beasts was subdued in ice and was rendered unable. He thought they said the name of the shaman, but when it was said it just as quickly disappeared entirely.
         He shrugged.
         So many fights to watch. The next one included a monster of a man, towering eight feet tall with massive muscles but no visible weapons, aptly named: Goliath. Actually, he was the weapon. Though, unlike the old story, his opponent was not a small boy with heroic ambitions. It was Buldingar. Well, scratch that, he was pretty much a boy with heroic ambitions.
         He laughed. The fight was about to begin. The announcer once again hyped the contestants, making up -- or was he -- incredulous feats of strength and valor for each. Arghness was roused and excited, but worried all the same.
         Buldingar, down below, was just as worried. He exited the gate, and saw the monster that he must defeat. This man had no armor, but seemed a cross between Samson and what his named implied, what with his excellent physique and flowing long blond hair. Did this man have a power, Buld wondered. True, neither man had armor, and he had a claymore, but where was the other man's weapon? The man just glared menacingly at him, some twenty feet away.
         It had been at least a minute or two since the announcer had commenced the battle, but Goliath had neither moved, nor even blinked. It was like he was concentrating pure hate toward his opponent.
         Buldingar could feel some heat radiating from Goliath's direction, but was it just his imagination. Was it also his imagination that his enemy seemed to be growing, and the air to become red as blood. He was fearful now. Hallucination?
         Goliath raised his arms like a bear would when attacking. This might have seemed silly to the onlookers, but to Buldingar, it shook him to his core. This man was some fifty feet tall and radiating a black essence; wisping and disappearing in to the red blur that was everything else. He could not look away, nor look direct at him. His hands began quivering, his blade shaking as a result. He felt so small and insignificant.
         The Goliath began moving. Walking toward him. One giant step after another, shaking the ground. Sounds of hellish screams seemed to accompany his every movement, wails of ghosts or banshees too. Cries from the netherworld, he thought. What could he do against this...monster?
         Goliath was now towering directly above him, with a raised foot set to crush him, no doubt. His adrenaline reflexes told him to run, but he knew he couldn't escape the range of his enemy, not with his legs so weak and inadequate.
         The foot was coming down, slowly, but steadily. This was torture for Buldingar. But wait, his claymore. He might sting the monster! He gripped the sword with both hands and jutted it upward and directly into the foot.
         It pierced. Blood flowed in a great current of red, but was drowned out by the red of everything else. The black nightmare reeled ever so slightly, but sent a quick frontal kick at Buldingar, hitting him squarely. Buldingar crushed against the wall of the arena. He couldn't see anything but black and red. The black was closing in, drowning out the red. He felt another force indent him against the wall. His senses were failing him, his whole body was not responding. Desperation. Pray, pray to the One True God. He will aid him, as he always has. "Please, oh Lord, aid me" he either thought or said, he could not hear. A sense of divine encouragement entered him; a sense of wellbeing and calmness with it. His vision returned to see the eight-foot-tall man standing, glaring at him, from the same position as the beginning. His body returned its feeling, and he removed himself from the wall. He saw his claymore punctured the wall a few feet away. He grabbed it and began making steady strides toward his enemy, who was not so intimidating anymore. In fact, he seemed rather small and inadequate, to be honest.
         His enemy looked quite scared, actually. He had replaced the sense of malice with true despair and fear, it seemed like. Goliath put his hands up in front of his face, as if to block out what he was seeing, and made some guttural sounds, like a dog would before being put down.
         Buldingar closed in on him and brought his weapon down upon the man's left shoulder, creating a rather sizable gash. The next blow struck the left side of his abdomen, and send him helplessly to the ground.
         The judge came out and declared the match in Buldingar's favor, and told him -- once again -- to return to the tunnel. He raised his arms in victory, but this time, he lowered himself humbly the ground and appeared to be pray and worship. Perhaps to his One True God, Arghness thought. Then Buldingar exited into the tunnel.
         Arghness had been so very worried during the match, that he had even considered using his power to thwart Goliath, but he was equally curious how powerful Buldingar truly was. What was this force he had behind him, sheltering him from death, and allowing him to slay his enemies simultaneously? Truly remarkable.
         The announcer began his usual ranting that after quite a few more intermediate matches, the finals would begin. The next one would be between a rather plain looking man in robes and a rather seductive sorceress, from Newhaven, the same as Shauni from before. She also had red hair, but looked markedly different in most ways. Her breasts were fuller, and she was quite a fair bit taller. The other man paled in comparison. It was like seeing a sheep against a phoenix.
         Though, while the phoenix bested the sheep, it was not such a simple affair. This man could become completely blend in, like a chameleon would. She, on the other hand, like Shauni, had an adept knowledge of fire. Hers was much more volatile, though. She set the entire arena aflame, every last inch of the dirt ground and rock walls was set alight. The crowd backed itself away as much as they could, for the stadium was full and still more came in through the entrances to see what was being described as "the fight of the season."
         Arghness did not care for such theatrics, but he did want to know more about these two powerful women.
Many more fights came and went, and it was well into the night. The stars shone over the arena and the large moon provided ample light to aid the many torches abound. The crowd was far from sleepy, but rather, they knew the fight was just getting started. The finals were here at last.
         Arghness noted the schedules and noticed Buldingar was considered the top seed, so he received a bye on the first round, thankfully. The other bye was the shaman, whose name still eluded him.
         The announcer started up again, and gave some surprising news. The matches have been moved until the following night, the excuse being that this arena was not suitable to the impending battles. They would relocated to the much larger epidome adjoining Durnal's own royal palace. Arghness was very glad at this, but the fans were not. They wanted more, and NOW.
         Riots were breaking out and mobs of angry fans swarmed the entrances and exits and set blazes and fights broke out. It was becoming more dangerous by the second. Already, he had had several bottles of liquor thrown at him. Some were even lighting the liquor with the torches and tossing them. Arghness decided he needed to act. He waded through the oceans of ne'er-do-wells and assumed the announcer's podium and announced, "You will all become calm and return to your homes for the night. If you have no home, then you will leave the city until dawn." All who heard, obeyed, and the riots became few and far between, and all dispensed out into the streets and entered their homes or left the city entirely.
         Arghness headed back the inn, rather exhausted from the night of action and saw Buldingar grabbing a drink in the back of the pub. He motioned for Arghness to join him.
         "Hello, friend, rejoice in that we have made it through another day!" He seemed rather jolly, as if he hadn't had to fight two monsters today.
         "That we have. Were you at all worried during your fights?"
         "Not really. The One True God seems to be partial to me, or at least likes to keep me around," Buld said laughing, "but that's not all that's happened today."
         "Oh, do tell!" Arghness said as he grabbed a flagon for himself.
         "Well, you saw the Shauni fight, right? Well, she's recruited, obviously. And so are quite a few of the contestants. That other red-haired female, she didn't want to join, but after hearing about you, she caved. Don't know bout you, but I think you've made a fan!" he said grinning.
         "Well, is that so? I guess I should like to talk to her then. Perhaps after the finals are over and done with. Oh hey, did you see those two fight, Maltorius and the shaman?"
         "Ah, yes, those are the two who tried to recruit you so long ago. I couldn't get a chance to the shaman, but that Maltorius is quite the character. We didn't talk about all too much, but he seems to have motives behind his appearance here, that much I could tell. Though, who wouldn't want the first-place prize? You could live a lifetime off that much money, or at least, if you were more frugal than myself," he said, now becoming lost in thought. "Hey, Argh, how should I say this," he looked guilty or plagued in his conscience, "you've been entered into the finals." What?!
         "I can see you're stunned, but hear me out. I had to use that as leverage to get a few of them to join us. You have to fight, you have to. Or else, or else we won't have the necessary army to defeat those who have taken all that you love." How could he? Is he shameless?
         To think that Buldingar would enter me into this fray. He was incensed at the very notion. He got up and left the table, and exited the inn, hoping for the cold night air to clear his head.
         The nearby roofs had a fresh layer of snow from the last snowfall, not but a few days ago. It was cold, but not so cold that he needed any more than his normal clothing and armor.
         What had Buldingar done? He doesn't know how much he wished not to fight. But, in the back of his mind, he knew that Buld had the most clever -- and understandable -- intentions. Show all of them, all that he is to lead, that he is capable of being a leader. That he is the rightful head of such an army against the devil's servant Big Boss. So be it. If he must do it, then he must do it. Shouldn't be too difficult, though, he did wish to succeed without use of his power, but would that even be possible? He had watched every one of the fights, and studied each and every contestant, and just determination coupled with weapons would not win a fight in these finals.
         Buldingar had been following him since he had left the inn. Arghness' pace had slackened and he came up alongside, saying, "You know there was no other way, right? I'm still sorry I had to put you in such a position, but-"
         "Yeah, I know. I'll do what I need to do. I'll put on a show, and prove to our newfound followers that I'm the rightful leader. Is that what you wanted?"
         "Something like that," he said, "but let's not dwell on such things. Let's return to the inn and get some rest before the long day tomorrow.
         So they went back the inn and downed a couple more alcoholic beverages and turned in for the night.

Chapter VIII: Arena

         Arghness woke around noon, with the fight starting in around five hours. Buldingar was gone already, and he wondered what he might do for the rest of the day. Train? Rest?
         He walked down the wooden steps to the ground floor and saw a redheaded woman sitting near the back wall nursing a glass of wine. She raised one finger and motioned him over. He was very much obliged, but rather nervous all the same. What did she want?
         As he sat down across from her in the booth, she began, "I've heard much about you, and I trust you've heard some about me as well. Hello, I'm Shauni of Newhaven. Sorceress and Alchemist, among other things." She had such a lovely face. He was no physiognomist, but her features were so well crafted that one must marvel in it. He was afraid that he was staring too intently, but he couldn't help it.
         "Well met. I am Arghness of Vilksaner. I am a simple man, among no other things," he said with a humble smile.
         "Oh, you don't do yourself justice. You are the leader of the Righteous Army that will soon take on the Devil himself! Simple man, hah!" Even her laugh is pretty. "But, I should say, while I am loyal to yours and Buldingar's cause, I would very much like to get a taste of what you can do. Perhaps...just a simple trick will do."
         "I am no magician, so I will not perform a trick for you, but if you would like me to demonstrate the nature of the curse that afflicts me, then I will reluctantly." He put his hand across the table and took hers in his own.
         "Pick up this wine and drink it all, as fast as you can, and then order some more, for the both of us."
         She instantly removed her hand from his and grasped the wine glass and chugged it down. Then, raising her hand casually, but affirmatively, she motioned for the waitress the bring more.
         When the waitress arrived, Shauni noted, "he would like some as well. Thank you." After this, she turned to Arghness and smiled. "So, it is that simple? Anything you want done, and it is done? Then should you be able to tell me right now that you want me, then I am yours?"
"It is not so simple. I would never use my ability for such a purpose. One is not able to appreciate what has been conquered without resistance."          She definitely liked this response.
         She motioned for him to follow her. She led him outside the inn and they began walking along the snow-covered path past the inn and into the depths of the city. He didn't really care for this city, but meeting someone like her had made it well worth the stay. Not to mention gaining an army, but that was an afterthought to him right then.
         They walked and talked for hours, talking of her hometown and Newhaven and of the Magic order there, as well as her reasons for entering in this fight to begin with. She seemed needlessly concerned in his dealings and hopes and desires. He didn't think what he had to say was so very interesting, but she certainly did. She couldn't get enough. A part of him liked that someone cared enough to ask what he thought.
         But, she was by far the most interesting of all the people he had met recently. He would like to get to know her better, but the match at the palace was set to begin in only an hour.
         They made their way to the royal palace, up to the large iron gates that kept common folk from entering until the event began. The guards immediately recognized the couple and showed them over to a secret corridor on the side of the palace that would lead to the arena preparation dormitory. They followed it for a while, and he wondered who was already here, perhaps Buldingar?
         Sure enough, when he arrived at the dormitory, Buldingar was there chatting with the other red-haired lass from Newhaven. Man, did she look voluptuous. Though, hers were only looks, Shauni had other aspects that made her more attractive to him.
         But enough of that talk, the battle would soon begin, and he must find out who his opponent was. He approached Buld. "Hail, Buldingar, have you a moment?"
         "Sure, friend, what is it you need?" He looked to be in good spirits today, he wondered if it was the woman or his innate bloodlust. Who knows.
         "I was wondering, do you have a recollection of who I am to face in battle? And by the way, who are you fighting as well?"
         "Ah, yes, you are to fight that elemental shaman who you have already met once before. Should be an interesting fight. I am to fight this lass right here, Victoria." He pointed a casual finger to the other red-haired lass. She gave a simple affirmative wave, and Argh nodded in confirmation.          "But, I should say, you are to fight first, Argh, and then me, and then your friend, whom you have entered here with."
         "And who is she to fight?" He was genuinely worried about her.
         Shauni joined in, "I am to fight a devilish man who calls himself the Devil's Right Hand. You saw his fight earlier, Arghness, right?" Yes, he had, but he didn't find anything particularly peculiar about it. He figured she could handle it.
         "I'm not worried, you'll win easily."
         "I'm not so sure," she said as she sidled up alongside Arghness, looking for some comforting. He put his arm around her and told her how strong she was and that she would be fine.
         Buldingar watched this with a most curious expression, and then gave a sardonic grin and said he would go pray until the battles began.
         In time, Arghness stood in the arena. This arena was ten times larger, with about twice the capacity for patrons to watch. The ground was no longer dirt and rubble, but solid stone, which was cool to the touch.
         The sun shone brightly above, warming all on this cool day of Frost's Fall. Since this arena had no dome, the snow had fallen but mysteriously none stuck to this stone ground, or perhaps it had been cleared away perfectly.
         More to the point, his opponent stood fifty feet away. It was the shaman he had watched fight Maltorius earlier. He had on some especially peculiar raiment. He was garbed in some flowing icy blue-green robes with a gnarled wooden staff that seemed to support his balance. This man was incredibly old, it seemed, with his epic flowing white beard and bushy, but pointed, eyebrows. His face was wrinkled incredibly, and his hands that gripped the staff were just as gnarled as the staff itself! How could this old man have such tremendous power?
         Arghness equipped his mace-flail and began to spin it about its chain. He watched the old man's eyes intently for any sort of hint of motive, but no change occurred. Argh took step after step toward his opponent, disregarding the discontented roar of the commonwealth of the nation around him. As he came closer and closer, he felt more and more chilled.
         The sun was gone now, and clouds took its place. Surely it had dropped ten or even twenty degrees. His hands and feet had begun to numb, losing precious feeling. The flail was now no more than a revolving burden upon his arm, but he kept it spinning and ready for attack.
It began to snow, and the wind picked up. Visibility was beginning to diminish. Vaguely, he could see the shaman still standing there, grasping his staff, motionless. And then he was gone.
         He was so cold. His hands and feet had no feeling, and his arms were beginning to lose it as well. But still, he kept the flail in motion, as if letting it stop meant certain death for him.
         A large object collided with the back of his head, sending him to the ground. He lost vision for a second, but regained his senses promptly.          He returned to his feet to see the old man stooping over him, with a clear smile on his face. The fog and blizzard flew around us both and it created a sort of cocoon of wintery wrath.
         He began speaking, "Greetings. Are you ready to come with us?"
         "What...?"
         "We've recruited you. You have already met three of our order, now, and you are to come with us to our haven in Yolsian, north of here."
         Three, I've only met two. Old man is cracked in the head if he thinks I'm leaving with him.
         "What reason do I have to come with you? I have an army now, to defeat Big Boss, haven't you heard?"
         "You have no army, and Buldingar is no friend. Your family is well alive, and we have made sure of that."
         Speechless, speechless. But he tells the truth. He knew they still lived, he knew it. "You, you, you're telling the truth..."
         "Yes, now, we must go. I have created a necessary diversion, and you must come away with me to our secret headquarters in Yolsian.          Come, Maltorius has commanded some creatures for us to use, and Shauni has burnt away any evidence of our trail. All you must do is follow"
         After they had left the palace, in secret, they mounted Maltorius' horses and made off toward the north, to the edge of the Kurland, high up in the mountains. The perfect location for a secret society, he thought. What a magnificent change of events. His family still lived, he could not wait to see his wife and two children. And he fell into a deep sleep atop his horse, which carried on at Maltorius' command.

Chapter IX: Yolsian

         When Arghness awoke it was well into the night and the caravan had made its way deep into the mountains. The path was incredibly steep, but the horses did not even falter or shy away under such powerful command. Maltorius led the troupe, then Arghness, followed by Shauni and lastly the old shaman bringing up the rear. Perhaps the shaman expected to be pursued.
         After an hour or two more of ascent, they reached a rather quaint and cozy town nestled among three peaks. The only entrance was from the south, and that was heavily fortified.
         The horses reached the gates and a night watchman opened the sight-slit on the door and instantly recognized familiars and opened the gates promptly. The huge metallic gates took much effort to open, and to close after they had entered.
         Despite the altitude and seeming lack of air, the town was very warm and comforting. It had been so long since Arghness had known any comfort in his surroundings.
         The buildings were all carved out of the surrounding mountainsides, but where there was not rock, were houses built of hard stone and topped with straw and other pliable materials. The largest of the buildings, presumably the city hall, was a large domed rock building with only a tiny entrance at the bottom of the dome, and one small opening on the top, out of which smoke was rising. It was quite cold. He was shivering.
         The streets seemed to be nonexistent. The whole of the mountain-town was just flat rock flooring, carefully carved and shaped for easy footing. Plants and the like did not exist up here, because there was no soil in which for them to grow. If it were not for the draft coming over the large metallic gates from which we came, he thought the people might very well suffocate.
         But even with the cold, the lack of air, and the bare, desolate surroundings, this place cried of warmth and happiness.
         He had so many questions to ask. So many things wondered. But before he could ask anything, Shauni approached him and began speaking, "I know what you want, and they are this way, come." Arghness followed.
         They went into a nearby mountainside door and into a humble little home. The floor was covered with a long colorful rug, and the fireplace roared mightily. Three individuals sat on the bed of sorts up against the far wall. Even in the firelight he couldn't quite make out their faces. But then the largest shadow got up and came toward him. He did not recognize this woman. She looked hurt by his confused stare.
         "Don't you recognize me, dear Arghness?" she spoke in a timid, but graceful voice.
         "I'm sorry, I don't. But I feel like I should. Who are you?"
         She was crying now. "How can you not...recognize your own wife and children?!" She ran from the room in tears.
         Arghness was shaken. These, these people are my family? He turned to Shauni. "How can these be my wife and children if I do not recognize them?"
         She responded, "I do not know, but come with me, I think we may be able to find an answer to that." She brought him to a larger residence near the back of the town, the shaman's residence. This house was much, much larger, with several rooms and better lighting. Ornamental trinkets and objects adorned most of the walls, creating a sort of mysteriously mystical atmosphere. The shaman was sitting in front of the largest fireplace meditating. Shauni approached him and whispered some words into his ear. He turned around, still sitting, and beckoned for Arghness to sit opposite him. He did.
         "You do not recognize even your own family, and this is your family, we have not played a trick on you. Let me ask, what is the last thing you remember?" He looked at Arghness inquisitively, as it he were just told a riddle.
         What was the first thing he remembered? The forest, wolves, Maltorius, Scarbaugh, the monastery, Durnal, here. He had come from his family to go to Scarbaugh to pay his dues. Was that the first thing? He told the shaman all of this, and the old man looked positively frightened.
"So you don't remember much of anything before our first meeting? That's terrible news indeed. You've been wandering aimlessly and without a proper past, as well. No wonder you got into so much trouble." He motioned for him to come closer and sit near the fire. He did so. "Now, look into it, and you will see a glimpse of your past, and over time, perhaps, you will regain what was lost."
         Arghness looked into the fire, and notices it was a greenish fire, not the typical red-orange. He began to get lost in the swirls and swashes of color and wrathful essence.

Chapter X: Remembrance?

         A child stands in an open field, not clothed, not loved. He wades through the tall grass, crying and wondering. The sun has gone down. The air is bitter and cold. The young child despairs.
But then a warm essence comes, a woman appears. He is picked up from the grass by this woman. He is elated. He falls asleep in her arms. She carries him back to the village, and clothes him, then puts him to sleep.
         A young man stands in an arena. The fans cheer him on. He is equipped with a mace-flail, and he has thin leather armor on. His face is smooth, that of a boy, but the body of a man. He faces beast after beast, and conquers them effortlessly. After the battle there is a young woman waiting for him at the gate. His sister or his girlfriend?
         A man, with a full thick red beard stands at attention with dozens of other soldiers. They all bear the sign of the scarab on their left shoulder, signifying that they are part of the GPA, Gifted Powers Army. His rank is much higher than the others, but he stands in line just like the rest. But then he removes himself from the line and begins commanding the lesser ranks. They all move out and grab their swords and daggers and bows and head off for battle. The man rides a horse and leads all of these men into a nightmarish region, not unlike a Hell. The fiendish creatures decimate his forces and only by luck was he able to escape.
         This man returns to his superior in the GPA and is stripped of his rank and banished from service, punished to be hanged if he is found again. The man takes his lady friend, the on from before, but older and more mature now, and leaves for a cold and frozen land of turmoil. They arrive and make a home in Vilksaren. He is happy, he is loved, he wants nothing more.
         And then he is a man in his early-thirties, and he is confronted by Big Boss, who sentences him to be his servant until he dies or else his family would perish. He agrees reluctantly, for his family is all he cares about. He makes good money from Big Boss, but one day they lead him down into an alchemist chamber on a 'mission' and strap him to a table. He is subjected to concoctions of untold effects and unknown toxicities. For hours they force this. This man is changed. He knows nothing and hasn't beliefs. He just exists for the sake of existing. He is released from Big Boss' service, as he is deemed useless now.
         He wanders the landscape, sure and unsure of everything, ambivalent at best about even the most minuscule things. It is he and his weapons, and that is it. He does not despair, because he knows nothing else, but he does not love because he does not know he is loved. He just does not know.

Chapter XI: The Clouds Part