Lichborne

[Suno_Regin]

Part 1

"Why is something so simple coming so close, and yet always evading my grasp?!" the Xacha shouted as he slammed his fists on the table before him, the room shuddering from his magical rage. His muscles returned to their original, slim-built state, and his breathing stabilized as he noticed what a fool he was acting. His emotions never got the better of him, and because of this, he knew that he was growing weaker with each passing day. His hair, what was left of it, was thin and black, a little bit falling out with each turn of the clock. What was once a receding hairline became the canvas for his remaining hair to be combed over, the man trying to hide what was happening to him. Of course, losing his hair wasn't his only problem. Being of only twenty-three cycles, the young man looked much older than he appeared, Dakkru's curse afflicting him in ways few had ever witnessed. While others became physically frail for a short time, merely a warning as to what fate awaits those who pass to Her realm, his body reacted as if it was dying, excreting any foreign substances such as food, liquid, and even his own fingernails that he'd chewed off in a panic. His body considered everything to be contaminated, so much so that the substance being forced from the roots of his hair was causing it to fall out, and he couldn't stand for more than a few minutes before succumbing to an uncontrollable bladder or emptying his bowels in other sickly ways. What was left of what could have been considered a handsome young man was now a quarantine site, waiting for death. True death. No... not yet. Not ever.

"I've tried everything... every herb and root concoction, every reputable mage in Yliakum... what's next?" As he spoke, thin hairs fell to the table before him, and more importantly, on top of the strength glyph he had lying there beside many others. Most of them were of the Red Way, but two Azure, one not having been touched, and the other dim with overuse, which was used to help him sleep during his frustration, or at least calm his nerves. "If this goes on... no... that witch!!" Grabbing his remaining hair, which practically flaked into his hands, Orvine doubled over in agony and sobbed, soon after throwing up onto the floor after narrowly turning his body away from the table to keep from ruining his collection of glyphs.

This time, things were different. Stumbling into his chair, not even wiping his mouth or noticing the foulness of his breath, images flooded into his mind. Images of the Dark Crystal, of depictions of Dakkru, of... what? What was that? A creature? No, a man... a Kran, more like it. But no Kran Orvine had ever seen. Kra had a black robe covering kras body from head to toe, with a thick fog erupting from kras hands that looked... skeletal? Awakening from his stupor, Orvine stood from his chair and lightly shook his head. No Kran had the bone structure for skeletal hands, even if they were some evil thing of legend. Though most saw Dakkru as some sort of balance in the chain, some connection between life and death, the man saw only evil. What Dakkru did to him was only a start.

Growing up, most of his childhood friends died in horrific accidents, some causes obvious, others never to be discovered. Bodies were found hacked to pieces, unrecoverable by the Death Realm and Dakkru's "sweet" embrace. Some were so charred that they could barely be recognized as bodies, merely piles of ashes forming the silhouettes of those he held dear. As time passed, and stranger things kept happening, his parents suddenly disowned him without forewarning, banishing him from their home and forcing him to wander village-to-village and level-to-level until reaching Hydlaa. Hydlaa, a place where mystery was never left unsolved under the watchful eyes of Laanx. His new friends would never leave him behind, never fall prey to unforeseeable circumstance... they'd be his forever, where the old names in his life abandoned him, even his own parents.

One day, running through the streets with the other neighborhood children, Jasper, the child with the blonde fur of a proud Enkidukai merchant family, started acting strange. Unlike Orvine, who lived on benches and near stairwells and anywhere he could find comfortable, Jasper grew up in a stable household and always had people to surround himself with.

"Hey Orvine! Y'know something I like to do when I'm lonely?" the young Enkidukai asked.

"What?"

"Well, I've been feeding this rat in the sewers--"

"Why the hell would you do that?" Orvine asked, foul language not escaping his vocabulary.

"and while I was there, a bunch of people found me and started chasing after me." Jasper made sure to wait this time before going on, but Orvine was tapping his foot and waiting for where the fun came in. "They were in the middle of some kind of ritual."

"Ritual?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but when I went back the next day, to that same place, there was nothing... but blood!" Jasper threw his arms in the air at the last part, making his voice dramatic enough to actually scare Orvine.

Coming to his senses, the Xachan child grunted and shook his head. "You're stupid. Why do you get all the money and the girls, anyway? And what does this have to do with being lonely?"

"Oh, I was going to suggest feeding rats and having them keep you company," Jasper explained, "since, you know... you're a street-urchin and all, but then I remembered what happened and thought I should tell somebody. You don't know anyone else to tell, so it's not like those creepy people are gonna come and find me from you blabbering to everyone."

"Right... well, when are you gonna invite me to pay them a visit?"

"Who, the rats?"

"The creepers, moron," Orvine said a little too loud. The other children on the street stared at him for a second, then he yelled, "I tripped over some creepers yesterday and he keeps saying they were flowers. What kind of flower is that durable?!" He knew he sounded awkward, and his face flushed... what a stupid cover story. Of course if an entire neighborhood of kids goes down into the sewers, someone's gonna catch on. He turned back to Jasper, who was grinning ear-to-ear at him. "Shut up."

"Don't worry, everyone expects stuff like that from a street-urchin. C'mon, time's wasting. They might be sacrificing some more people!"

Escaping the crowd of children at play, Jasper and Orvine weaved their way through the houses, out of sight of the city guards, and behind Kada-el's, only knowing where the place was even located because Jasper's parents enjoyed expensive wines. Through a hole practically carved in the pavement, was a ladder leading down to the sewers of Hydlaa.

"How'd you come across this?" Orvine asked, fidgeting with the ladder to see if it wouldn't toss him off if he puts his weight down on it to descend.

"My parents got drunk and started throwing away all their money to hear some idiot play the pan flute, so I just kinda wandered away and was told by their escorts not to go too far from Kada-el's, and... this was just in the way while I started running circles around the building."

"You could've found me. I haven't heard anyone play an instrument before."

"That's because you live in the streets. You have to pay to hear them, that's why they play. Now c'mon."

Grunting, Orvine climbed down the ladder, scared to death that something was going to happen to him. His hand touched a cobweb, and he froze for a second, thinking someone grabbed him and was about to stick a knife in his eye. This thought became a reality as the spider weaving that web landed just above his eyebrow. He screamed and fell back from the ladder, shifting it backwards and knocking Jasper right off the top as he began his descent, falling on the ground before Orvine as Orvine's weight piled on top of him flailing and crying. Jasper shoved him off, kicking him in the groin and grinning as Orvine focused on the new pain in his sensitive area instead of the fear created from his nervous hysteria.

"The hell's... wrong with you?!" Orvine finished his last words in a grunt, still reeling from the pain.

"I nearly broke my arm, idiot! Thanks for knocking down the ladder!" As Jasper said this, Orvine's attention went behind them to the ladder that was now laying parallel on the ground, no longer an exit back to the surface.

Standing, Orvine grunted again with his legs quivering beneath him. "We can put it back up later! It can't be that heavy." He looked at it closely, at its solid marble design, and shrugged. Not heavy at all. The little voice inside his head kept telling him he was going to be trapped in the sewers forever, but who listens to that thing, anyway? All he knew was that he got mixed up with a stupid kid and his stupid idea, and stupid... wait, what was that noise? Was that a woman screaming? Great...

[Aramara Meibi]

I thoroughly enjoyed this.

[Suno_Regin]

Happy to hear it. First story I've written in a while. Much more to come!

[Phantomboy86]

Im interested in this... Please continue!

[Suno_Regin]

Part 2

And the scream came again. She was thrashing, desperately trying to escape, hoping someone would hear her. Orvine could picture the absolute horror she must have been in, and gulped, thinking they'd be next if they don't find a way out of the sewer.

"Let's go check it out," Jasper said, running down the tunnel where he thought they'd find the woman. The sewer stunk horrifically, and nearly gagged every sense but that of sight, which even then was murky do to the sheer fumes permeating the area.

"Are you crazy?! They'll kill us!" Orvine exclaimed, trying to lift the ladder back up where it was, but only succeeding in falling flat on his back as the ladder boomed on the pavement beside him yet again.

"If we don't save her, who will?! C'mon, we'd be heroes! And you could get out of those rags and actually buy a home! Even a family!"

Grumbling, Orvine followed him down the tunnel, both of them running at a slight pace, but careful to avoid any cobwebs or rats or puddles of substances that Orvine didn't even want to think of what they could be. As they progressed further, the screams picked up once more before slowly dying, but they knew they were close. She's dead...

Around the next corner, Orvine's life would change forever.

"Let her go, freaks!" Jasper yelled, standing face-to-face with three people dressed in robes with cowls. One was a Kran by his build, one a Klyros with his wings clipped, and the other resembled a human or perhaps even an Ynnwn, with narrow slits showing for eyes. The three looked at each other and nodded, letting go of the woman's husk to better focus on the boy, who went sprawling at them in fear that the woman might still be clinging to life and need his help. Before even getting within a few yards of the robed figures, a powerful force pounded him into the wall of the tunnel, nearly knocking him unconscious. He slid to the floor, his body twitching, and Orvine gasped. He turned to look at the three, who then discovered his presence, and he slowly started to back away.

"You kids made a grave mistake... but I suppose young life will make due for a good sacrifice all the same," the Klyros said, stepping toward Orvine threateningly. Jasper blinked once, then twice, and focused his eyes on the Klyros, seeing a chance. Scrambling to his feet, he raced to tackle the Klyros in the side right as his hand was reaching for Orvine's thr-- what was that? Right as Jasper came upon the Klyros, a blinding light erupted from the direction of the Xachan boy, and... everything went dark. Dark, and for a split second, pain. Sharp pain. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe... nothingness.

Orvine panted, breathing as heavily as his lungs would allow, tears streaming down his face. Shouts erupted from the Kran and the other figure, as the body of their friend and the Enkidukai laid still on the ground, or rather... what was left of them. They were absolutely torn to shreds... bloody, battered, every piece of flesh and bone severed from head-to-toe. And it all happened in the blink of an eye.

"What the hell was that, kid?!" the human-or-Diaboli asked in a hysteria, racing at him to grab the Xacha by the throat just as the Klyros was about to. Scared and helpless, Orvine dangled in the air with his legs barely kicking or showing resistance, scarred by what he saw. It happened again, only this time he was done for...

"Hey Orvine, catch!" yelled the boy, throwing a bright red ball in Orvine's directions. The Xacha's eyes widened, his heart pounded, and then nothing-- it was all a blur. All he could remember was the ball disappearing and a putrid smell permeating the air, and... something was on fire. It looked like someone was camping, but he knew there wasn't a campsite setup nearby, and none of his friends lit the fire. Walking closer to it, he saw it for what it truly was, and covered his mouth with his hands as he tried to keep the bile from rising in his throat. Emptying his bowels in front of the fire, he looked again as the remnants of the smoldering corpse crumpled into nothing more than ashes, and the fire dissipated, leaving that same smell of burnt flesh in the air for minutes to come. He couldn't move, or speak, or even throw up again... it all happened so fast. What could he do? He didn't even see what happened, or who attacked them... it was as though he was distracted while some unknown assailant went in for the kill. Except, it happened many other times...

"Wake up, kid, we have questions for you!" shouted the man, sending Orvine out of his stupor and letting a small yelp escape from his throat. Feeling a sudden sharp pain on his tailbone, having been dropped to the ground, the pain shifted to his ribs as a foot kicked him sharply in the chest and sent him back against the floor, with the man's foot pressing down hard on the same spot that was just kicked.

"Wait, Issac," the Kran said, stepping closer and examining the boy while Issac's foot never moved an inch to let him free. "I've seen him... he doesn't know what he's done, but his gut holds the key."

"His gut, huh? Alright, then..." Drawing a wicked sabre, Issac, put his full weight on the foot as he pivoted to look down at Orvine's legs, sending a small grunt from the boy with tears flowing faster from his eyes. "Ready?"

"Yes," the Kran answered. And with that, the sabre made a clean cut right through Orvine's exposed stomach, and the Kran reached in with one hand with the other placed on Orvine's leg. Tearing kras hand free, kra healed the wound as if nothing was ever there, and the boy's temporary bewilderment turned to unconsciousness, blood dripping from his lips and onto the sewer floor. The Kran held up kras hand and showed Issac the glyphs kra'd just withdrawn, all of them Red Way, all of them dangerous.

"How in the hell did he swallow a bunch of glyphs and not know it?" Issac exclaimed, peering down at the face of the helpless boy and removing his foot from the injured area.

"A memory hard for even the boy to recall," the Kran explained, "since he was only four cycles at the time it happened. He's an outcast, though... he knows the strict rule that magic comes from glyphs, so he never once suspected that he's the one that caused many more deaths than what we've just witnessed. But..."

"But what?"

"These glyphs... that spell. Even with these glyphs having acted as a part of him for so long, he shouldn't have been able to tap into them so easily. And look. They've formed combinations that elder Red Way practitioners have spent cycles trying to form and master. He's used these spells quite a few times throughout his life with absolutely no training. Isaac... we need him."

"We need him? What're you talking about, fool? If he's allowed to live, he'll go blabbing about all this to his little friends, and if he's as powerful as you say, they'll know it isn't just a horror story this time to scare them into being good."

"He has no friends, and he has no family anymore. He's perfect. Society's forsaken him, and I believe he's now entered the final stage of no return. If we can train him, and raise him... he'll end up becoming a fine vessel for the Faceless Whisper."

Orvine laid unconscious, dreaming... dreaming of something that he knew couldn't be real. He was littler... he knew by looking at his stubby little fingers. Reaching for something. He didn't know what. His father often sat him beside his worktable to talk to him, whether he was punishing him, feeding him, or they were waiting for his mother to return home and his father was acting like he was teaching Orvine the tricks of the trade, even though he really just sat there doing his own thing while Orvine was forced to sit still and be bored. His fingers traced along chisels, hammers, and things that daddy never said to touch. The last time he'd touched them, he nearly cut off his finger somehow, so he'd learned his lesson. But there was something else. It was flat, roundish... not sharp at all. He picked it up, and it glinted at his touch, and he grinned. It looked tasty! It felt like nothing he'd ever touched before, and he thought that maybe his dad ate these when mommy was mad at him, so he thought he'd try them, too. Taking a bite, he felt a whirring motion against his teeth, and he laughed, then covered his mouth before daddy could hear him. He swallowed, and the whirring continued down his throat until it disappeared in his gut. And he did this many times more, each one giving him the same sensation until he purposely nibbled on them a little bit between his gums before letting them go down. But he reached the last one, and thought he'd leave that for daddy, knowing he might get scolded for eating too much again.

"Where did you put them?!" his father yelled, returning to the workbench. Orvine flushed, and shrugged, and started yelling back that he didn't know, only to be knocked out of the stool by a swift backhand as his father reeled in panic. "Do you have any idea how expensive those are?! Give them to me, right, NOW!" Orvine couldn't tell him what he did with them. He thought they were a magical candy... no one had explained magic to him yet, only that it existed, and that Laanx shaped Yliakum with it.

"He doesn't know the power he possesses..." murmured the Kran, kras voice a grating echo in the narrow tunnels as they carried the boy through the sewers. "He doesn't even know what he did to bring it out. Something about him... his parentage, or the Gods... something, makes him able to channel some of the most powerful energy of the Great Crystal."

[Phantomboy86]

Always did wonder what would happen if you just decided to eat a glyph. Course you'd usually just painfully pass it later.

[Aramara Meibi]

talk about heartburn.

[Suno_Regin]

Well, I'd started writing something amazing to a third part, but due to technical difficulty, my writing is shabby in trying to remake it, so... I'll continue once my motivation comes back.

[Sarras Volcae]

ROFL!  this story is funneh.

[Mrokii]

Interesting story, nicely written. Poor boy though :/

[Mariana Xiechai]

Your writing skizzles, they rock. That is all. 

[Sarras Volcae]

just curious, what does this have to do with liches?

[Suno_Regin]

I've decided to finish the story. I'll add another part later tonight. You'll see, Sarras... you'll see.

As for the character, I'm still "short" you could say. Not sure if I want to sacrifice the idea for something a bit more grand, but for the sake of writing, I'll go through with it.

[Suno_Regin]

Part 3

The innocent man of straw and twig sat hoisted up on a stick much larger than itself, staring mindlessly at the opposite wall just above a crowd of people staring at it. One of the contributors to this crowd stood by himself facing the dummy, his fingers twitching, the crowd silently urging him on. Without blinking his eye, his next motion swift and precise, a fireball left the man's hands to take the dummy's proverbial life. Charred debris scattered across the guarded sewer chamber, some still licked with flames and threatening to burn the black robes worn by the overseers of the little demonstration. Barely making effort to move out of the way, the flames of course not threatening them too greatly, they clapped slowly and unenthusiastically for the man - the boy-become-man, more like it - and went about their business either in that chamber or beyond.

Orvine stood proud with a grin on his face, looking up for approval. An ynnwn met his gaze - Gallic was his name, though that probably wasn't his real name - and placed a hand on Orvine's shoulder, towering over him by a clear margin.

"You've come far," the ynnwn said. "It usually takes a lot of training to weave Chaos in such a controlled way."

"Thanks, I think," Orvine answered. He was older now, and a little more mature, but despite knowing when to change his demeanor and when he was allowed to express his true street-urchin self, he still had a long way to go intellectually. His natural black hair, unnatural for most xacha, hung in tangled furrows across his ears and grazed his neck, while his tiny blue eyes gave him the look of mischief and deceit. He looked the part of a street-urchin despite all of the knowledge he'd gained in such a short time, but no one commented on it, saying they belonged with them, and that he was born to know. Know what? he thought, his eyes looking away from the ynnwn for a split second as his mind wandered. "Hey, Gallic?"

"Yes?"

"Why can't I -"

"Power comes with time," Gallic explained. "Though with you, it's different. Power for you comes from emotion, from Chaos. At least, that's what we think. You're an anomaly... not uncommon to us, but society wouldn't let you walk if they knew."

"And why not?" Orvine asked impatiently, eyes narrowing even further than they were naturally.

"You'll come to understand. For now, just know that the Master watches over you, and will grant us the power to fulfill our cause."

"And wha -"

"Don't question the Master. You know this already. Watch your moves and actions, for even the wrong breath will grant you pestilence so fast you won't be able to blink the next second." That target dummy didn't blink, either. What, did it try and breathe?" Orvine thought at the rude interruption, trying not to show it in his face. Gallic didn't seem to catch it, either. He began leading the two of them down a narrow corridor, away from curious ears-and-eyes, until he felt it safe to speak again. Orvine merely followed in suit, used to this sort of thing by now. "Tell me about your father."

"I don't give a damn about my father," said Orvine, his usual response. This question came up numerous times to numerous people, as each one charged with taking care of him throughout his growth seemed too curious for their own good. "Neither should you."

"Just cause you're disowned doesn't mean you can't talk about him. What doesn't he want others to know? Tell me. Something about you had to be worth fear. After all, without those glyphs, those glyphs we provided you, you're harmless as a goujah."

Until I trample your face. "I don't know," Orvine answered honestly, "and I really don't care. Not anymore." Shaking his head, Orvine walked further, and Gallic didn't follow him. The tears came all-too-frequently anymore. His own family not caring to see him grow up, to hear his stories about what he's learned. But I'm not allowed to talk about it...

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Steam rose in the man's face as he dipped the molten sword inside the tank of water before him, the heat perhaps unbearable for others not tempered for it as he. An unusual profession for xacha, many said, some claiming it to be the reason his son was born with black hair, but that didn't matter. The damn kid has more problems than that. A loud knocking on his door came from outside, just loud enough for him to hear through the sounds of the forge, but he couldn't let it interrupt him at this point in the process. "One second!" he yelled, removing the sword and - the knocking came again. "Dammit, what?" No response. Angrily, he dropped the commissioned work and went over to open the door, figuring this must be oh-so-important to interrupt one of his masterpieces.

Unlike other smiths, he didn't stop his Red Way training at a point comfortable for making his work a little easier - on the contrary, the true reason he took this career upon himself was to further his understanding of magic in its entirety. He was a master, but never cared to let that fact be known, only pursuing knowledge and the means to become stronger in mind and spirit. But that wasn't all... he also wanted to entertain without everything blowing up in his face. Learning the purifying properties of the Red Way would allow him to do much more than simply enchant objects or people. But that wasn't important, not now.

As the door swung open, a draft suddenly escaping the room, his porch appeared empty.

"Father!" An angry voice yelled from where the door hid its owner from sight. Stepping further outside to see it, his eyes widened, the man continuing to speak to him. "Father, I'm home!" The man before him forced a grin, his teeth bared in a way that looked as though he wanted to kill something. Or someone.

"Well, Orvine... seems you're not dead after all," Ulric, Orvine's father, said coolly. "Welcome back."

"What a nice greeting for the return of your damned son. You don't care a bit!" Orvine yelled out in a rage, his grin all bared teeth and no smile. The boy seemed to quiver. "Here I thought you might've regretted what you did to me, and might... actually miss me!"

"Sorry, you're right," Ulric answered with a sigh, retaining his calm. "I should have killed you off that very day. I won't make the same mistake."

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"Gallic's test was a joke," the Kran said, kras voice all gravel in the eerie sewer passage. "You know that as well as I do."

"Yes, but... he said I did well! Everyone saw it! I had control!" Orvine exclaimed, looking up at the towering figure.

"Control over what? Flame Burst is a child's spell anyway. You may have kept control over it, but all that shows is that you have potential. If you truly wish to test yourself, then take these." Dropping a sack down to Orvine as they walked together, Orvine's eyes shimmered as he opened it to reveal - "The glyphs you once had. The ones you -ate-." Orvine wasn't sure what the nameless Kran meant by kras expression, but it didn't matter. He finally felt complete, like the thing he'd been missing all his life was restored. Almost.

"Is this really why my father shunned me? I ate his glyphs?" Orvine asked.

"Don't be foolish. You know the answered better than I." The Kran wandered down another tunnel than Orvine, leaving him to himself and his thoughts.

"But... I don't know anything," he muttered, already having forgotten about the glyphs. "But I know someone who does..."

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Meteors crashed against the grassy plains, Orvine's lithe body moving with determination to avoid every last spell, though he knew he had to act soon. Tears streamed from his eyes, but he didn't even realize until he heard it in his own voice. "You bastard! I'll make you pay!" Readying his hand, he gathered a spell to mind as soon as a burst of flames met his exposed body, sending him hurdling backwards across the field in an awkward tumble. His body twitched, but the flames were already extinguished.

"Come on, son! That spell was weak. You expect to live when you can't even avoid something as simple as that? Where's your focus? Why can't you muster the same determination as you did when you murdered all your friends?!"

Orvine's eyes widened at the same time as someone else's many levels above. Probing the young xacha's mind, the so-called nameless Kran Harok felt a spell finally unravel; a spell that had kept kra worried since the day kra met the boy. Fear washed over Harok like a storm, far worse than the meteors kra felt ripple through the threads of kras weave into the boy's mind.

"This boy is..."

"Chaos," Ulric said, walking toward where Orvine was just beginning to stand. "That's what you are. It's time you finally knew, so you can at least die with the knowledge that it's for the best. You're a miasma that Yliakum should not have created, one that Laanx in His good graces has let go far too long."

"I-I don't understand..." Orvine said, watching his father wearily, but finding that his strength was already beginning to return.

"Fool. Search your thoughts. It came to you already, and we both know it. I saw it in your face."

Orvine did know. But his imagination was wild enough already. Far too wild, in fact. Chaotic. That's... that's what he was. Chaos.

"I never did anything to you... I-I never ate your glyphs."

"That's right. A simple spell to keep a simple mind in check. With knowledge like that, your little masquerades and pretend games could become a challenge to the Gods themselves. Understand now, son, that you must die. You're too powerful for your own good."

The tears no longer came. Orvine felt the awakening even stronger now, with nothing left clouding his memories. He knew what he was, and what he did. The very thought had never come to his mind before - had never even been heard of. They said this thing wasn't uncommon for them... is this what they meant?

He's greater than I expected, thought Harok, his mental probing finished. "Awaken that power, Orvine. Show this man that you have more worth to Yliakum, to our Master, than he could possibly dream of."

Sparks flew. Dangerous sparks, sparks that would rally cities if they were anywhere near. The lone forge was all that stood in the span of many paces, sitting peacefully as everything else danced in chaos. Orvine's fists roared with electricity as his father tried to keep his distance, sending spell after spell only to be countered and deflected with ease that wasn't possible before. His son was out to kill, he knew, and so was he. The electricity faded, as he knew it was, and they returned to equal footing, watching and waiting for the next spell to come, fearing vulnerability if either of them decided to make the first move.

Orvine decided to try the subtle approach - subtle for Chaos - and conjure a pit of lava beneath his father, only to be met by an expecting leap away from the determined area and Blades of Chaos flung in his direction. Orvine rolled back and to the side, avoiding their trajectory only to see his father rushing at him ignited in flames. Casting a similar spell, Orvine met the man palm-for-palm in a clash of sparks and ashes, the ground around their conflicting, fiery forms charred the black of death. Orvine nearly lost his grip, his muscles failing, but help from his Strength glyph ensured victory over the up-and-coming blacksmith. Until his father weaved the exact same spell, and Orvine was forced to retreat, twisting his wrists and escaping his father's grip to run the opposite way, looking over his shoulder with their fiery auras already dissipated to make sure he didn't receive another fireball at his back. His foot slipped, and seeing himself ready to fall into a similar pit as what he conjured underneath his father, he punched down into it and simultaneously conjured a fist of lava to match the looming lava below that propelled him up and over the pit to turn and face his father a few spans away.

Dammit! Orvine thought, breathing heavily. He's barely broken a sweat and I'm all fear! He really does mean to kill me. Dammit... There was no Faceless Whisper to save him. The move was foolish, and he was shunned for exclaiming that he would go confront his father, but nothing warned him of any disfavor with his Master. There were never any warnings of anything. Not even signs. I need power! Come on!!!

Orvine batted away another ball of fire sent by his father, the spell gliding off his open palm like air. He was determined to exact his revenge upon this man, who forsook him for what he couldn't help and made his life a living hell. This man. His father. A man. "Damn you! As Chaos incarnate, I grant you death!" Raising his arms to the sky, Orvine's form as well as his father's shadowed over with the sudden coming of black clouds. Clouds of death, much like the ones present the day he was born.

"Fool." Ulric raised his arm toward Orvine, surrounding the boy in deadly claws of retribution, slashing and tearing at his defenseless body as he tried to summon the spell that would do him in. As the passive spell rended his son's flesh, he raised one arm to the sky and took control of the weaves Orvine was forming, sending lightning crashing down upon him that conducted the claws and surrounded his son in electrifying death and carnage. Orvine was no more. "Chaos will not surface. Laanx be sure of it." Walking back to his forge, he didn't once look back. "May the Masked God fright the shadows from your path, son." The door swung shut as Orvine's body, what was left of it, faded to a darker place than he could ever imagine.

[Mariana Xiechai]

  'Tis a rather tragic story really. I feel bad for Orvine, and like the fact that, while technically a villain, he cannot merely be dismissed as "evil."