It's a big Multiverse. There's no reason Ashiok couldn't have been given that name by Night's Reach after she brought him through the Mending. Again, having become a 'walker, it is sensible that Ashiok would travel the planes and adopt the dress of that plane. Cis-blah is an invention of tumblr, so don't bring any soft science into our debate; that would be taking it off topic. Forgive my digression, there. Now then, we come back to the jushi curse: there's your explanation for Ashiok's hermaphroditism.
Done. See? Everything beyond that is a baseless leap because we have no evidence of anything. See that word? That's the important one.
So Kiku had the jushi masters' curse upon her afterward, and Night's Reach was able to traverse the planes during TSP Block. So Night's Reach could easily see Ashiok safely through the Mending, with Ashiok emerging as a neo-walker. That's what.
Ashiok, Nightmare Weaver gives it away. During the events of Guardian: Saviors of Kamigawa, Toshiro Umezawa and Kiku, Night's Flower share a night of lovemaking in the jushi cult's manor. The jushi wizards placed a curse on Kiku, based on revenge magic. When the tablet in which Toshi had sealed the curse was broken, it took hold of Kiku. She became a shadowy being, and was sent back to Numai after the siege on Minamo.
Years later, Tetsuo Umezawa rises to power in Madara as Imperial Champion. He has shifted from purely black to UBR, balancing black's lust for power with red's creativity and blue's logic. Thus, it is reasonable to assume that this shadowy being, Ashiok, is the offspring of Toshiro and Kiku. Recall that the events of the Time Spiral block played havoc with the time steams. Thus, providing a method for Ashiok to survive the mending, and emerge as the Neo Walker we will recieve in Theros.
Furthermore, Bolas swore to eliminate the whole of the Umezawa clan. In Future Sight,he makes reference to having visited Kamigawa and exacted revenge on Night's Reach and the Umezawas. However, there's a chance Ashiok would've been out in the Multiverse at that point. Given how Night's Reach was willing to ally with Leshrac to oppose Bolas, it is equally likely that she would reach to to Ashiok during the events of the Time Spiral, bring it through the worst of the temporal disaster.
Thus, Ashiok will represent Bolas' interests in Theros. I expect that Ashiok will use its abilities to turn Bolas' mind-rending magic back upon the Elder Dragon.
All I want is people to stop with baseless speculation guarded by their inability to understand why said speculation is baseless.
It isn't baseless. We know Toshi and Kiku had sex. We know Kiku had the Jushi wizards' curse unleashed toward the end of their assault on Hidetsugu. We know the events of Time Spiral allowed Night's Reach to traverse the planes. We know Ashiok is associated with shadowy nightmare stuff. So it is reasonable to speculate that Ashiok is the last in the Umezawa line. It gives Bolas a reason to be interested in Theros as well.
I need definitive proof that Ashiok couldn't be related. Otherwise, its perfectly vallid speculation. Baseless speculation would be that Ashiok is related to Ramses Overdark, simply because they're both UB.
There's as much of a link between Ramses as there is to Kiku. Spam infraction issued.
During the events of Guardian: Saviors of Kamigawa, Toshiro Umezawa and Kiku, Night's Flower share a night of lovemaking in the jushi cult's manor. The jushi wizards placed a curse on Kiku, based on revenge magic. When the tablet in which Toshi had sealed the curse was broken, it took hold of Kiku. She became a shadowy being, and was sent back to Numai after the siege on Minamo.
Years later, Tetsuo Umezawa rises to power in Madara as Imperial Champion. He has shifted from purely black to UBR, balancing black's lust for power with red's creativity and blue's logic. Thus, it is reasonable to assume that this shadowy being, Ashiok, is the offspring of Toshiro and Kiku. Recall that the events of the Time Spiral block played havoc with the time steams. Thus, providing a method for Ashiok to survive the mending, and emerge as the Neo Walker we will recieve in Theros.
Furthermore, Bolas swore to eliminate the whole of the Umezawa clan. In Future Sight,he makes reference to having visited Kamigawa and exacted revenge on Night's Reach and the Umezawas. However, there's a chance Ashiok would've been out in the Multiverse at that point. Given how Night's Reach was willing to ally with Leshrac to oppose Bolas, it is equally likely that she would reach to to Ashiok during the events of the Time Spiral, bring it through the worst of the temporal disaster.
Thus, Ashiok will represent Bolas' interests in Theros. I expect that Ashiok will use its abilities to turn Bolas' mind-rending magic back upon the Elder Dragon.
Ashiok is the hermaphroditic offspring of Kiku and Toshi. I expect it will be trying to turn Bolas's mind-rending abilities against him, judging from its affinity for nightmares.
Moderator Action: Verbal Warning
See that thing? Over there? That's the line. This joke crossed it.
It's fine for funny on-topic jokes, but this is pushing into spam.
Also, baseless speculation. And Kiku and Toshi are dead. For MILLENNIA now.
~kaburi
This thread is about Ashiok. This post I'm quoting is speculation about Ashiok. It isn't baseless, either. Recall in Guardian: Saviours of Kamigawa: Kiku had been used as a subject for her jushi masters' revenge magic. McGough never elaborated on the full effects of the curse that befell Kiku when the tile containing it was broken (that was during the siege on Minamo, fighting Hidetsugu) So, there is a base for speculating that Ashiok is the offspring of Toshi and Kiku. Our inability to distinguish gender makes it equally likely that Ashiok is a hermaphrodite.
Ashiok is the hermaphroditic offspring of Kiku and Toshi. I expect it will be trying to turn Bolas's mind-rending abilities against him, judging from its affinity for nightmares.
Moderator Action: Verbal Warning
See that thing? Over there? That's the line. This joke crossed it.
It's fine for funny on-topic jokes, but this is pushing into spam.
Also, baseless speculation. And Kiku and Toshi are dead. For MILLENNIA now.
Toshi didn't beat Bolas. He never met Bolas. However, Ashiok might run into ol Elder Dragon. I think the planeswalking offspring of Toshi and Kiku would merit Bolas' attention. Especially when the big dragon thinks he's wiped out the Umezawa line.
Ansgar Dekacrolin stepped out of the æther of the Blind Eternities and into a living hell. The moment he became physical, his face seemed blasted by a hot and dusty wind, and he turned his head away in irritation. When he opened his eyes again, all he saw was a harsh, gray landscape dominated by jagged rocks, cracked earth, and the occasional, gnarled, dying tree. A flash of light caught his attention from above, but as he looked toward the ashen clouds wafting overhead, he saw a streak of flame where on other worlds would have been lighting. Sulfurous fumes assaulted his nostrils, confirming that this was a place of fire and death.
Ansgar smiled a conflicted smile. This was the perfect place to hunt a demon.
His search had been a long one, and Ansgar was not foolish enough to deny that it might be much longer yet, but this place showed promise. It had been years now since Rebekah’s murder, and Ansgar still see her beautiful, angelic face when he closed his eyes and allowed himself access to his happiest thoughts. But still, in his mind, her murder was still unavenged. The demonic phylactery containing her immaculate essence still existed, her powerful spirit still used to some vile creature’s sadistic ends. Ansgar bit his lip against the thought. At any cost, he would find her, and free her to her rest.
But where? Few demons in all of existence could traverse the planes, at least in the way Ansgar Dekacrolin was familiar with, and yet somehow Rebekah’s phylactery had been smuggled off their homeworld through means he had yet to discover. It had been years now since he began his search, and nearly as long since he had been cursed to fuel himself with that thick, oily energy that emanated from all things dead and diseased. There were times when Ansgar hated himself for the deal he had made. He wondered what his beloved angel would think of him if she were alive to see what he had become. But at these times, Ansgar sjackally reminded himself that his sacrifice was for a noble purpose, and that Rebekah’s immortal peace was worth his own mortal agony.
Another stream of fire from the sky brought Ansgar Dekacrolin out of his dark musings. His search was his purpose, and so his search must continue. He exhaled sharply and slightly adjusted his armor before setting off in a random direction. The armor he wore was mostly for show, since most of the demons he fought would have cut through it with ease anyway, but it helped make his relatively thin frame look larger than it was. It was also much lighter than it looked, which was helpful when he wound up ‘walking to a plane Ether near any visible civilization. But after years of searching, Ansgar had learned to trust his intuition. Usually, the planes he landed on did contain demons, often with phylacterys similar to those he was searching for, and usually when he chose an arbitrary direction, he found something sooner rather than later.
In this case, he found something almost immediately, though at first he had no idea what it might have been. Ansgar first became aware of it merely as a scurried motion off to his left. He had no idea if this plane had a sun, but if it did, it was well-hidden behind the airborne ash above him. He was more or less convinced it was day, because there was enough sourceless light to see by, although barely. As such, whatever it was he saw move was far too difficult to identify. Ansgar Dekacrolin could be a very dangerous man, but he was by no means invincible, and so he started to gather his energy, which proved to be no difficulty in this land of death. Ansgar did not break his gait or make any obvious motion to find whatever had moved. He sjackally walked on, growing stronger and more aware with each step.
The second time he caught the movement, it was a bit closer, and Ansgar got a better look. It was approximately man-shaped, though slumped, and scuttling on all four limbs like an animal, or perhaps an insect. It was there for only a few seconds before darting behind a thorn thicket, but Ansgar caught enough of a glance to see that its skin was a pale, almost sickly tone. Although he could make out no more details than that, he felt certain that this thing posed little to no danger to him. As such, he decided to investigate.
He took three more steps forward, then suddenly wheeled around to face the thorn thicket directly. His sudden motion caused a brief rustling of the dying bushes, and Ansgar resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. As he took a step closer, he heard a growl from within which made him pause, not out of fear, but out of confusion. The growl was not low, rumbling or natural, but was clearly a poor imitation of a wild animal that was likely to convince no one. At his second step forward, the bush began to shake violently, but Ansgar could feel the fear radiating from whatever was in there. He was becoming annoyed, but two could play at that game. Ansgar called forth some of his power, and moments later, his most annoying jackal popped into existence. The jackal grinned devilishly, and immediately leapt into the thorns and began pinching and clawing at whatever he found. In mere moments, the jackal had nettled the mysterious stalker right out of the thicket, and almost directly into Ansgar Dekacrolin’s arms.
It was a pathetic creature. From the look of him, he was likely human, but perhaps some subspecies he was not acquainted with. As Ansgar had already noted, the man was deathly pale, and his brown hair and thin beard were scraggly and unkempt. His clothing was nothing more than two sjackalle pieces of material loosely tied together, a dark brown hide of some sort that looked thoroughly uncomfortable. He was visibly shaking, and his eyes were wide and nearly unblinking. He stumbled to a halt just before he would have collided with Ansgar, and he hesitated only a moment before falling to his knees. Behind him, Ansgar’s jackal gleefully followed, pinching at any exposed skin and tugging cruelly at his hair.
Ansgar waved the jackal back. “That’s enough,” he chided.
The jackal ceased his nuisances, and stomped away like a scolded child. The haggard man looked weakly at Ansgar, then back at the jackal, and then again at the planeswalker. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and soft. “Please, Master, please forgive me! I swear, I will serve you personally for the rest of my years! Please, I will be faithful, I swear! Please do not punish me!”
Ansgar found himself squinting through his own confusion. “What are you talking about?”
The man bent even lower to the ground. “Please, I promise I will never disobey you or any other demon again, I swear it!”
The planeswalker had a difficult time deciding whether he should be angry at being called a demon, or amused. “I am not a demon.”
The man looked up at him with his eyebrows raised. He glanced back at the jackal, who grinned at him, winked, and mimed a pinching motion. The man quickly looked back at Ansgar. “Yes, of course, Master! As you say! I am but a human, and know nothing, of course. Please, Master, forgive me.”
Once again, Ansgar was growing irritated. “Now, really! What gives you the idea that I am a demon?”
He again glanced over at the jackal, but only momentarily. “My lord, I saw you appear from the Ether. Only a demon could do that, a demon or the…” he stopped suddenly, his eyes widening so far that Ansgar thought they might pop out. He quickly continued, talking much faster than before. “Only a demon, I mean! I was going to say, but no, I wasn’t, I mean I don’t know what I mean, please. Only a demon.”
Ansgar shook his head and sighed. “What are you talking about.”
“Nothing, Master, I swear! Nothing!”
“Actually,” came another voice, a low, feminine, biting voice, “we would like to hear the answer to that, as well.”
Ansgar turned around almost casually as the pathetic man squealed. Behind him stood three demons, the foremost a female with fiery red eyes and ebony skin, and behind her, two males with softer yellow eyes and skin more crimson than the fire in the sky. The planeswalker sized them up quickly. He had dealt with demons on numerous occasions, and he had developed something of an innate sense of their power. On closer inspection, the two males were not even demons, but devilish underlings. The female was a lesser demon, no real threat to him individually, although all three together might pose a problem. His only active defense was his jackal, and they would tear that obnoxious creature apart easily. Ansgar, therefore, decided to buy some time.
“Is there something I can do for you?” He asked with an expression of indifference as he gently brushed a few loose strands of his black hair aside.
The two males laughed heartily at this question, but the female seemed unjackalressed. Her burning eyes narrowed at him as she responded. “Jackalersonating a demon is a serious mistake, mortal. Kneel and beg my forgiveness, or your torment will last centuries.”
Ansgar smiled. Well, he thought to himself, I guess time is up.
With a subtle smile, Ansgar drew upon his energy and sent some of his darkest power to briefly probe the minds of his adversaries. The demoness was inaccessible to him, but the minds of the weaker devils were an open book. He could feel them ticking like the inner workings of a great machine, a machine that was blindly worshiped and appeased on some far-off plane by some of the most devout fools in the multiverse. Ansgar had found them once, and had learned the secret of their rituals, the secret of their devotion, and, like the other demonic powers he had found, claimed them for himself, and for a nobler purpose.
Ansgar’s smile lost its subtlety as it widened to a grin. With one dark glance, he looked over at his jackal, already trying to sneak in one last pinch of the pathetic man behind him. Then, with a sudden, violent motion, he shot out one arm toward his summoned creature. The jackal, not even looking at his master, was flung several inches into the air as his neck snapped at the motion. Had it been anything more than one of the vile denizens of some forgotten hell, Ansgar Dekacrolin might have regretted his sacrifice. As it was, though, this jackal’s spirit, like the evil magicks Ansgar had commandeered, would serve a higher end.
A purple, hazy sort of energy surrounded the jackal’s body, and then, with another exaggerated motion from Ansgar, this time with his left arm, that energy shot towards one of the devils. It struck the infernal being square in the head, and the devil rocked back, though only for a moment. It recovered quickly and opened its eyes, now glowing in that same purple hue, rather than the dull yellow it had been. For a moment, no one moved, until that devil lunged at the other one, his razor-sharp claws ripping out the unsuspecting creature’s throat before he could even get his hands up. Without a word or expression, the devil stood to full height and turned toward the demoness.
She, of course, would not be caught by the same trap, and moved to attack her former underling. The devil fought back without a sound, and managed to score a deep slash along her abdomen, but she was far more powerful than he. After a brief tussle, she reached out one clawed hand, grabbed him by the skull, and sent a massive wave of pure death through his scarlet frame. But Ansgar had not been idle. He had been gathering yet more power from this dark landscape, and as the demoness turned around to strike at him, Ansgar sjackally waved his hand. Her scream was chilling as her brain rotted away from the inside out like a spoiled vegetable.
Ansgar turned back to the groveling man, intent on continuing their previous conversation, but the man sjackally stared at him in stunned silence. The planeswalker sighed and took a step closer to him, but the man’s widening eyes stopped him in his tracks.
“I am not going to hurt you,” Ansgar offered, trying to calm him. But the pale man could only shake his head. Ansgar was unsure of what this meant, until the man managed to point to the sky behind Ansgar. When he turned to see what it was, Ansgar saw the ashen clouds opening, though the sky behind them seemed somehow blacker still. Moments later, a massive jet of flame shot through the opening, and behind it, riding the fire like a chariot, came the largest, nastiest and most terrifying demon Ansgar had ever seen.
His skin was gray like ancient stone, but shimmered with an almost black luminescence. He was easily two stories tall, with chiseled muscle the likes of which would make the greatest of gladiators weep with envy, or fear. Two massive, bat-like wings protruded from his back, and the veins in the membrane pulsated in a fiery red. His ugly face was lined with twisted horns, largest at the top and growing smaller as they approached his pointed chin. Ansgar noticed all this with no small degree of concern, but he stopped noticing anything as he saw the chain around the demon’s neck, for fixed to that ebony chain was the dull, constant glow of a phylactery.
Without another thought, Ansgar Dekacrolin set himself for battle. In all his life and all his demon hunting, he had never seen one like this before. His intuition and his experience screamed at him to run, warned him that this demon was more powerful than any he had ever battled, but all that mattered to Ansgar now was that phylactery. If that was, at long last, Rebekah’s stone, he would rather die than see it feed the vile monstrosity now careening toward the ground. Ansgar held his fists up instinctively, but really he was trying to gather all the energy he could before jackalact. Suddenly, though, one of his arms was pulled down sharply by the kneeling man behind him.
“No!” The man screamed over what Ansgar suddenly realized was a cacophonous din of wind and fire. “That is Dridelagris! You’ll be killed! Quickly, we need to escape!”
“No,” Ansgar answered back. “Besides, where would we run? Best to kill him now.”
But once again, the pale man shook his head. “Even the god-king couldn’t kill Dridelagris! We can help you, but you have to come with us!”
This merely confused Ansgar. “Us?”
For the first time, Ansgar noticed that he was loosely surrounded by over a dozen humans, all but one of whom looked at least as disheveled as the original. The only one who didn't was a young woman, harsh in features and expression, who came running up to Ansgar and the haggard man. "We have to get out of here!"
Before Ansgar could answer, the ground shook in a sudden rumble that nearly knocked them all off their feet. As one, they looked back toward the towering demon, who had caused the quake with his meteoric landing. As the dust and ash billowed around him, Dridelagris stood to full height, towering above the humans who stood just a short distance from him. He looked briefly at the corpses of the lesser demon and devils sprawled on the ground, and laughed, his deep voice resounding like rolling thunder. As Ansgar looked on, he saw the phylactery glimmer, and he scowled.
"No," he reaffirmed. "I want him dead."
"Not nearly so much as we do," she said with an edge to her voice. "But there is only one who even has a chance." When Ansgar said nothing, the woman turned to the pale man. "Please, Siro, tell him!"
"Blakusol is right, stranger! Please, you must see that you cannot win!"
The desperation in his voice showed Ansgar the reality of the situation. Dridelagris was sjackally standing there, smiling and laughing. Demons were never that patient unless they were convinced they had already won. Finally, and with a bitter sneer, Ansgar Dekacrolin nodded his head.
"Fine. But how?"
"We'll need to distract him," Blakusol said, reaching into a pouch slung at her hip.
"A colossus?" ventured Siro, his voice shaking.
The woman nodded. "Our last one. You had better be right about this, Siro."
He nodded, and Blakusol sjackally glared at him before withdrawing a small metal disc from her bag. With a fluid motion, she tossed the disc toward the massive demon. Dridelagris continued to laugh as he took one gigantic step forward, and then another, but the disc was already starting to expand. The woman leaned over to Ansgar and said, as softly as she could while still being heard, "Get ready to run, outsider."
The disc hit the ground, but continued to expand outward, now several times its original circumference. As the demon reached it, the disc seemed to explode, and from it burst a giant of stone and iron, fist first, straight into Dridelagris's jaw. The demon's head turned at the strike, but only slightly, as though he were checking something over his shoulder rather than taking a thousand pound punch. The colossus, on the other hand, left a piece of its fist on one of the demon's horns.
Ansgar could not believe his eyes. "That thing is falling apart!"
Blakusol grabbed him by the wrist. "It's all we've got, and we won't have it for long, so run!"
The planeswalker shrugged and followed her, glancing backward in time to see the entire lower section of the stone giant break off from the rest of it. At this rate, that colossus was only going to buy them a handful of seconds. But Blakusol had another trick in her bag, and she pulled it out as they fled. At a glance, it looked like a large, rounded sapphire, but it was hard to tell. Blakusol and the others were running, but the physical condition of most of them made that running slow, and they seemed to be looking for something. Behind them, the battle of the titanic monstrosities continued, and from the sound of it, it was going poorly for the colossus. Finally, a few steps in front of him, Ansgar heard Siro yell.
"There's one!"
As he yelled, he pointed off to their right. Ansgar followed with his gaze, and he saw three massive stone slabs, two vertical and the third balanced atop the others like a doorway. Blakusol put on a burst of speed and outdistanced the others, and as she approached the ancient gateway, she heaved the jewel in her hand at the top stone. It smashed against the bottom, and cascaded down like a waterfall between the two side stones. But the liquid did not stop. It spread from one side of the doorway to the other and continued to pour down, but nothing pooled on the ground below. Ansgar was momentarily amazed, but not as much as he was when he looked through the mystical gate. While before there was nothing on the other side, just more wilderness, now there was the image of a large underground cavern with people, more humans, by their look, looking on anxiously.
Blakusol made a large, exaggerated wave toward the portal. "Everyone through! Quickly!" One by one, the weak, pale people followed her order and disappeared into the room beyond. Ansgar was the last to approach the magic water, and before he crossed, he took one final look back at the demon, just in time to see him hammer his own clawed fist straight through the chest of the colossus, shattering it once and for all. The demon grinned, then seemed to look straight at Ansgar. In a frighteningly silent motion, Dridelagris took flight, moving swiftly toward the magical portal. For the first time in a very long while, Ansgar froze in fear. As the terrible fiend floated through the air toward him, the only thought that could pierce his mind was the regret that he had failed Rebekah. But just then, the harsh features of Blakusol came into his view. She looked angry. She grabbed him with both hands by his armor's collar and with one great effort, pulled them both through the portal. Their legs disappeared through the portal seconds before the water stopped flowing, and the water stopped flowing seconds before Dridelagris's frame crashed into the stones, smashing them to dust.
Ansgar opened his eyes after the initial jackalact and found himself in the middle of a large room. As he had seen from the other side of the portal, it was a natural cavern, but had been modified by human hands to house human life. Primitive cots and bedrolls lined the far wall, and crude wooden doors covered openings in the rocks larger than they were. Before he could further study his surroundings, Blakusol pushed him away and climbed to her feet, dusting herself off as she did. She looked over to Siro as she spoke.
"Our last colossus, and one of the few remaining standing stones, gone. He had better be worth it."
Siro nodded. "He will be, I can feel it. He appeared from the Ether, just like..."
"Stop right there," Blakusol admonished. "Do not defile His name. I believe this man is powerful, true. He destroyed three demons with little effort. But he is no god."
"And who says He was, either?" another voice offered from the gathering crowd. "He fell to Dridelagris, as well."
"Silence, heretic," Blakusol said in the dissenter's direction, though her voice seemed lined more with admission than outrage. Ansgar finally pulled himself up to his feet and turned to the woman.
"So where are we, anyway?"
"We are in the caves of Porlad, one of the last sanctuaries against the Demonkind."
Ansgar shrugged. "But what world is this?"
"What wor..." Blakusol began, confused. She shared a telling glance with Siro, then took a deep breath and answered. "We call this world Ursuth. You truly are a wanderer from the Planes, aren't you?"
"I have never heard it phrased quite that way before, but I suppose I am. I take it others have come here before?"
"They say the god-king appeared from the Ether," confirmed Siro, who then shot a glance back at Blakusol. "And like you, he destroyed the demons in his way with ease!"
"Siro!" Blakusol admonished. "Do not make blasphemous assumptions! Besides, I am the Archmage's Lore-bearer. If we are to tell His story, it must be done accurately."
Ansgar managed to avoid rolling his eyes, though it was difficult. "Listen, I honestly do not care about your mythology." This drew a round of gasps from about half the gathered crowd. "What I do care about is finding and killing that demon we saw, and you said you knew someone who could help me do that."
Blakusol looked angry, but she responded anyway. "The only one with the power to destroy Dridelagris is the god-king himself."
Ansgar nodded once, very slowly. "The god-king. The same god-king that fell to Dridelagris? Great. Look, I've killed demons before, I think I will just take my chances."
Siro stepped forward and lightly grabbed Ansgar's armored arm. "Please, stranger. We need your help!"
"My name is Ansgar Dekacrolin, and I honestly do not know what you want."
"We want what you want," Blakusol said sjackally.
"And what makes you think you have any idea what that is?" Ansgar pressed, annoyed.
"Did you not say you want Dridelagris dead?" she replied. "So do we. More than almost anything else, we want that demon killed. But you cannot do it alone. Only the god-king can."
"The one who has already lost to him?" asked Ansgar with indignation. "As I said, I have no idea what you want."
"That was different!" Siro nearly screamed. "He had been struck down by the other gods, betrayed by his own! He was weakened, and..." He looked over at Blakusol, who was watching him disapprovingly. "Blakusol, perhaps you should tell him the whole story."
This time, Ansgar could not stop his eyes from rolling. "Does she need to? Is this story really necessary?" The astonished murmur from the crowd seemed to suggest that it was. Begrudgingly, Ansgar acquiesced. "Very well, but please keep this short."
The look Blakusol gave him could have cut through steel, but she began her story nonetheless. "For as long as anyone could remember, demons ruled Ursuth. Humans were made their slaves whenever the demons feel like it, but usually we were no better than their playthings. They destroyed us, tortured us, and did whatever they wanted to cause our people misery. If the histories that passed to us from our ancestors are to be believed, this was the way things were for thousands of years."
"Until He came," interjected Siro excitedly.
"Yes, until He came," confirmed Blakusol with a small smile. "One day, from out of the Ether, a great figure of a man appeared. He was noble, and beautiful, and strong, and soon the demons found him. They envied his greatness and raged at his pride, and they sought to tear him down. But He was great, and he destroyed all those who assaulted him. The demons cowered as he walked through our world, destroying with ease any fiend who dared approach."
"Just as you have done, Ansgar Dekacrolin!" Siro added, but then lowered his head at Blakusol's gaze. With a sigh, she continued.
"He came to our ancestors then. He gave them his name, Imurai-eld-Nerka, and told them that he was the last in the line of great Archmages, god-kings from the world above. But he had been cast down to ours when evil usurpers killed him and his holy father."
"He was dead?" Ansgar asked as his brow furrowed.
"Those were the god-king's words," Blakusol confirmed. "Imurai-eld-Nerka told us that he was meant to rule in this afterlife, and that the demons who had ruled us for so long were now his enemies, as well. He freed our ancestors from their grasp, and they accepted him as their god-king, as is only right."
"And look where it's gotten us!" The same dissenter's voice rang. This time, he stepped forward to confront the Lore-bearer. He was a large man, but just as sickly and pale as most of the others. In fact, as Ansgar looked around, it appeared Blakusol was the only healthy human in Porlad.
"Do not deny Him, Nekyn," she chided, but the larger man sjackally shook his head.
"I have had enough, Blakusol," he said, his voice rising slightly. "All our lives, you Devout have told us what a great thing the god-king was for us, all the while eating the best of our food and drinking the freshest of our water. You have everything to gain from the myth of Imurai-eld-Nerka, and the rest of us have everything to lose!"
The look on Blakusol's face surprised Ansgar. He had expected anger, but there was only hurt. "How dare you, Nekyn! Do you not think I would sacrifice everything for our people? If I could give my health or my life to see them free, I would, and so would every single Devout left. Our lives are forfeit from the moment we swear the oath, and you know it."
Nekyn actually had the decency to look ashamed, but he did not step back. "All the same, that still doesn't answer the charge that our lives are no better than before Imurai-eld-Nerka came."
"I would like to know about that, as well," the planeswalker added.
Blakusol took a moment to compose herself, then continued. "Ursuth is and was ruled by demons, but the ones with the real power are the Xordikrast, the Inner Circle of the demonic ranks. Legends say that thirteen demons once comprised the Xordikrast, up to the time of Imurai-eld-Nerka. As the god-king killed more and more of the lesser demons, he began to draw the attention of the Inner Circle. Eventually, they came for him, and even the god-king's strength was not enough. They defeated him, and drove him away."
"He left Ursuth?" Ansgar asked.
"No, he fled underground. The strength of the demons was too much even for him, but there was a way. Our ancestors had kept a secret alive through time immeasurable, and although it was a power they could not use themselves, for they lacked the strength, Imurai-eld-Nerka could. They revealed to him the existence of the Aggros, words of such incredible mystical power that even the mightiest demon could be struck down with it. Imurai-eld-Nerka searched for many years, journeying alone and without food or sleep, pursued by the Xordikrast at every step, but in time, he found the words of the Aggros.
"Legends agree that five of the thirteen fell in the first battle, and Imurai-eld-Nerka stood unscathed. Three more fell within the next year. The ninth was Matrileth, said to be the greatest of all the demons. They say the war between Imurai-eld-Nerka and Matrileth lasted ten years, but eventually they faced one another, and Imurai-eld-Nerka slew his enemy with the Aggros. The remaining demons of the Xordikrast fled and hid. The god-king had won, and our people were finally free.
"So what happened?" Ansgar asked, looking around the large cavern with doubt.
"Imurai-eld-Nerka ruled our people for a time, but he grew thirsty for vengeance against the traitors who had cast him from the Planes. They say at first, he only lamented his loss, but as time passed, he became convinced he could return to what he called the land of the living. And one day, he did just that. He disappeared back into the Ether just as he had come. Peace still reigned, for either the demons did not know of the Archmage's departure, or were too afraid of his return."
"They needn't have feared," Nekyn said bitterly.
Blakusol began to scold him, but then stopped and hung her head. "No, I suppose not. Imurai-eld-Nerka did return, but he appeared out of the Ether injured and nearly dead. The demons sensed his weakness immediately, and Dridelagris led them in assault. They caught the god-king before he could speak the words of the Aggros, and Dridelagris himself jackalrisoned Imurai-eld-Nerka within a large bloodrock, promising to keep him alive and suffering for all eternity."
Finally, Ansgar began to see the point. "So this god-king of yours is still alive. Where is this bloodrock?"
"For the first several years," answered Blakusol, "Dridelagris kept it in his own infernal tower. But when one of his underlings, a lesser demon name Jarulaar, defeated the last above-ground human stronghold, Dridelagris gave him both the castle and Imurai-eld-Nerka's bloodrock as a reward."
"Why would he do that?" asked the planeswalker.
"I believe it was meant as a message to us," she explained. "Dridelagris knows there are still humans who resist his rule. I believe he gets a sick pleasure out of placing our god-king so close to us, yet far beyond our reach."
There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd, but Ansgar paid them little attention. His mind was already turning, trying to decide his best course of action. "So you are convinced that Imurai-eld-Nerka can destroy Dridelagris?"
"Yes," she said sjackally.
"And you are certain that his bloodrock is in this castle you mentioned?"
"There can be no doubt about that."
"Can you get me inside that castle?"
"Easily."
"And when Imurai-eld-Nerka is free, can you get us to Dridelagris?"
She hesitated for a moment, which Ansgar did not like. "You will need to deal with Jarulaar first, of course.
"Leave the demons to me," he assured her. "But what about Dridelagris?"
"If you can free the god-king," Blakusol began, "I assure you, you will not need to go to Dridelagris. He will come to you."
For a few moments, Ansgar sjackally nodded to himself. Then, his eyes lit up, and he actually smiled. "Very well," he said, "who is to come, and when do we leave?"
A spontaneous cheer sounded from the crowd, and Blakusol herself actually smiled pleasantly. "You and I will go alone, Ansgar Dekacrolin. We must be secretive, and the others are too weak for battle right now. As for when, we can leave this very moment, if you are ready."
Ansgar nodded, picturing in his mind the glowing phylactery that was hanging around Dridelagris's neck. Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would know if it were Rebekah's. If he were lucky, soon she would be free.
Ansgar looked back up at Blakusol and nodded sharply. "Then let's go."
* * *
Ansgar was surprised at how little time it took them to reach the castle. It was no more than an hour between the moment they left the caves and the moment they spotted the high turrets. Blakusol was surprised at how little effort it seemed to take to get into the walls and dispose of the few demonic guards. Ansgar, of course, had been gathering energy during the entire journey, and had dealt with demons enough to know which spells to use and when. Jarulaar was surprised when two humans burst into his main hall, loudly insinuating that he was about to die. No human he had ever fought had been so brazen, even during the days of their pathetic god-king.
The demon casually stood from his rocky throne lined with skulls and bone. He was about ten or twelve feet tall and muscled, though less bulky or jackalressively as Dridelagris had been. He seemed to have four sets of batwings, but the lower wing on his left hung ljackal and useless. It would seem as though he had not had such an easy time defeating the humans who had previously held this castle. His skin was a light grey, and his teeth were shaped almost like a dagger's point, which he displayed as he yawned.
"I do not recall ordering any entertainment," the vile beast said with words that almost seemed to taste bitter to the humans. "But if you jesters wish to amuse me, you may attempt to do so."
Ansgar smiled. Already he could sense how powerful Jarulaar was, or more jackalortantly, how weak. "Actually, demon, we are here for Imurai-eld-Nerka."
The hellspawn glanced off to his right, where the large bloodrock rested on a dais. "My centerpiece? You may admire it if you like, but it stays just where it is."
"That is our mighty god-king, Archmage Imurai-eld-Nerka, that you have jackalrisoned in that rock. As a human and as His Devout, I demand you release him at once!" Blakusol spoke forcefully and with confidence, but Ansgar once again had to avoid rolling his eyes. He suspected the demon did, as well.
Jarulaar laughed in a tone that was surprisingly honest for one of his kind. "You are more amusing than I thought! Perhaps I will spare you, for a time."
Ansgar smirked. "That makes you more merciful than I."
As he spoke, the planeswalker's hands began to emit a thick, black smoke. This smoke wafted to the floor and pooled in front of the demon and Ansgar Dekacrolin's eyes darkened with his power. The cloud grew increasingly thick and black, but again, the demon sjackally laughed.
"Are you going to make it rain now, little jester? What fun, I should have thought of this years ago!"
Blakusol glanced over at Ansgar and noticed that his eyes were completely black now. As he spoke, his voice seemed lower than usual. "It is a pity that demons are so incapable of love," he paused here, purposefully. "For it means there is no one to mourn your passing."
With these words, he thrust his hands forward, and from out the thick cloud shot a solid mass of pointed gloom, which pierced Jarulaar through the abdomen like a lance. For a moment, the demon tried to speak, but soon collapsed to the side, dead. A few moments passed before the gloom faded and the room, as well as Ansgar's eyes, returned to normal.
"How did you do that?" Asked a startled Blakusol.
Ansgar shrugged. "Few ever master the darkest arts. Those dark arts usually master them. I have been denied the brighter powers, and so I've mastered these out of necessity." For a moment, he debated continuing, but he had said enough. Instead, he motioned over to the bloodrock. "Come on, let's see about freeing your Archmage."
Together, they walked over to the large slab of stone. It was a dull red color and seemed vaguely transparent, though not enough to see the form of Imurai-eld-Nerka that Blakusol swore was trapped inside. Ansgar spent a few minutes examining the bloodrock while his companion cast nervous glances around the room. Ansgar had learned much from the demons he had been forced to deal with, and although he did not have any knowledge of the specific ritual that had created this stone, his expertise showed him all of the weaknesses in the result. This bloodrock was a strong piece of magic, but like all blood rituals, it could be undone by someone who knew what he was doing. And few knew blood rituals better than Ansgar Dekacrolin.
It took the better part of an hour, and Blakusol grew exponentially more nervous with each passing minute, but eventually, it happened. Ansgar concentrated, finding each of the secret cracks, not just in the physical stone, but also in the ritual that had created it, and eventually, with a thunderous noise, the bloodrock broke. Left behind in the dust of the enchanted crystal, a lone man lay, his body twisted and wrinkled and shaking. His long hair was stringy and white, and he looked sickly and thin. Before he could move, Blakusol threw herself to the ground near him.
"Archmage Imurai-eld-Nerka, god-king of Ursuth and the Planes beyond the Ether, I am Blakusol, your faithful servant and eternal Devout."
At this last word, the feeble old man managed to lift his head slightly to look at her. "I have fallen...too far...I cannot."
But Blakusol sjackally nodded. "I know, my Lord, but you shall rise again. Please, your most holy god-king, please, invoke the Pyre."
At first, the man seemed confused. "You...you would..."
He did not finish, but Blakusol seemed to know what he was going to say. "Of course I would, my Lord. I am Devout. It is my purpose. Please. Invoke the Pyre. Save our people."
For what seemed like a long time, Imurai-eld-Nerka did not move. Then, he nodded, and struggled upright, though he only made it to his knees. In a soft voice, he spoke to her one last time. "Your sacrifice... will not... be forgotten. Prepare my place... in my ancestor's...halls."
With these words, he raised his right hand. Starting at the wrist and moving toward his fingers, he waved his left hand over it, and a mystical flame appeared in his palm. Ansgar wanted to say something, to stop this, but he was transfixed by the ritual. Then, with a suddenness that belied his obvious age, Imurai-eld-Nerka moved the flames to his lips and blew. The flames leapt from his palm and engulfed Blakusol in a brilliant pillar of red and green flames. She screamed for a moment, but then was gone, incinerated almost instantly into a pile of ashes. A sudden wind kicked up from Ether, and the ashes blew towards Imurai-eld-Nerka. The ashes swirled around him like a whirlwind, the force increasing to the point that Ansgar was forced to turn away.
When he looked back, he found himself face to face with a completely different man. The thin, white hair was replaced with long and lustrous black strands that hung past his shoulders. His frail, wrinkled body was replaced a thick, athletic and intensely muscular frame the color of rich mahogany. His face was hard and determined, somehow carrying the look of both youth and experience. At first, it looked like his eyes were low and filled with a sort of melancholy, but when the Archmage's gaze met Ansgar Dekacrolin's, those eyes seemed to light up. The god-king took a step toward Ansgar and smiled.
"Are you Devout, as well, then?"
Ansgar was taken aback, not just by the question, but by the strength and color in the other man's voice, which was jackalossibly different than it had been mere moments before. "Uh, no. My name is Ansgar Dekacrolin. They brought me here to free you." As he spoke, he unintentionally pointed to the place Blakusol had been standing.
The other man's expression changed back to sadness for a moment as he looked toward that place, but brightened again as he looked back. "Her sacrifice has given me life. I shall remember her always. But you. I have you to thank for my freedom. Please tell me how I might repay you, Ansgar."
There was something in his voice that Ansgar could not quite recognize, but he dismissed it. "I agreed to free you because your people are suffering under the rule of the demon Dridelagris, a demon who happens to have something I need. It is a phylactery, fixed to a chain, around his neck. The soul within may belong to someone I loved."
"And you wish to set that soul free?" There seemed to be general admiration in his tone. "But what I told that woman was true. I have fallen too far."
Although he could not explain it, a sudden anger rose up in Ansgar. "'That woman!' Her name was Blakusol. The least you could do is remember it. She gave her life for your youth, and you don't even ask for her name?"
It was difficult to read Imurai-eld-Nerka's expression. He seemed partly ashamed, partly annoyed, and partly confused, though there was another expression there, as well, and again, Ansgar could not place it. Whatever it might have been, the Archmage moved away slightly, sat down on the edge of the dais, and hung his head with his hands at his brow. For a few moments, Ansgar neither said nor did anything. Imurai-eld-Nerka was nothing like what he had expected. He realized suddenly that he really had no expectation of the man, but whatever it was, it wasn't this. Finally, he moved over and sat down next to the fallen Archmage.
"Look, why don't you tell me how you got here," Ansgar offered.
Imurai-eld-Nerka looked up at the other man. "Did my people not tell you?"
He nodded. "They did, but I want to hear your version. I suspect you know some things they didn't."
"I suppose I do," he admitted. "Where shall I begin?"
"Why don't you start with your life before Ursuth?"
Imurai nodded. "As you wish. In the overworld, while I still lived, I was Imurai-eld-Nerka, son of the great Archmage Erek-ozae-Dors and descendant of Erek-zaeo-Orsd, first of our line and first of the Archmages."
"Let me stop you there," Ansgar said suddenly. "Do you still think you are dead?"
Imurai-eld-Nerka's brow furrowed at the question. "What do you mean?"
"You said something about the 'overworld,' and 'while you still lived.' Let me ask you this, where did you live?"
"In the Archmage's palace." Ansgar said nothing to this reply, only shook his head. "In Arboraelis," again, no answer from Ansgar. Imurai hesitated, convinced now that Ansgar might be insane. "On Surakoth?"
"Ahh," Ansgar said suddenly. Now things were beginning to make sense. Although he had never been there himself, Ansgar had heard of Surakoth. It was another plane in the Multiverse, dominated by massive forests. So Imurai-eld-Nerka was a planeswalker. But did he truly not know that? Ansgar needed to know. "So what made you think you were dead?"
"I was killed," he continued. "One day, my father and I were set upon by assassins, sent by the vile ret-Syrris family. They wished to usurp the throne of the Archmages, and though I loathe to say it, they did just that. I was forced to watch as my father was murdered before my eyes, and then mine closed, and when I awoke, I was here in this hell."
"And why did you tell these people you were a god-king?"
"I am a god-king, Ansgar. I am the son of the Archmage, a line of god-kings. And because my father died before I did, I was the Archmage. So I was sent here. This is my kingdom in the afterlife. And like those Archmages who journeyed onward before me, I had to win my kingdom. My powers were vast. I no longer needed food, water, or sleep, and my abilities were nearly limitless. Only the great demons could match my power, and I defeated most of them anyway."
Ansgar was beginning to suspect the problem. "Imurai, how long ago was this?"
"That I first came to this place? A century at least, likely more. After I killed the demon king Matrileth, I ruled here for many years before I attempted to return to the land of the living."
"To Surakoth," Ansgar corrected, though Imurai-eld-Nerka seemed to assume he was asking for clarification.
"Yes. But when I arrived, I found my powers weakened beyond recognition! Before, I could almost sjackally imagine something, and I could make it so. Now, it required considerable effort to do what I thought should be the sjackallest magic. I tried to overthrow Gwyth-ark-Naed, the current pretender to my crown, but his elite guard proved too much for me, and once more I was killed and thrown back here. But this time, my godly powers did not return. The demons captured and gagged me, and placed me in that wretched stone." He paused to move his hand on top of Ansgar's in a friendly gesture. "Thank you for freeing me, Ansgar Dekacrolin."
"You are welcome," Ansgar said uncertainly, moving his hand away. "But I am afraid you are mistaken about a few points."
"What do you mean?"
So Ansgar explained to Imurai-eld-Nerka about planeswalkers, and planes, and the magic they used. At first, the Archmage believed none of it, but eventually he grew to realize how everything of his "afterlife" fit in perfectly with the nature of the Spark. Ansgar also explained to him the events and effects of the Mending, or at least as much as he had been able to piece together himself. Ansgar's theory was that Imurai's journey back to Surakoth had coincided with the Mending, although he admitted the Mending may have occurred sometime earlier, after Imurai-eld-Nerka defeated Matrileth but before he returned to Arboraelis. Finally, after Imurai finally accepted the truth, he turned to Ansgar.
"So I truly am still alive? My friend, please allow me to ask you a favor. When I first returned to my home, it was to exact revenge. But if I am still alive, than the throne of Archmages belongs to me. You say you can walk these 'planes' as well. Will you come with me to Surakoth? Will you help me take back what is mine and free my people from the tyranny of Gwyth-ark-Naed?"
Ansgar hesitated. Imurai-eld-Nerka's feud and the political intrigue of a kingdom on a plane he had never been to really did not interest him. On the other hand, Imurai seemed like a genuinely good man, albeit somewhat deluded and naive, and he did feel the jackalulse to help him. Also, if the phylactery Dridelagris carried was Rebekah's, his search would be over, and he would need to find something more to do anyway. But if it wasn't...Ansgar forced the thought away. It was Rebekah's. It had to be. He had to believe that.
"I'll tell you this, Imurai-eld-Nerka. If you help me defeat Dridelagris, then I will come with you." Imurai's face lit up like a child receiving a present. But Ansgar added a warning before the Archmage could reply. "I cannot promise I can help you there, or how long I will stay. But I will come with you, for a time."
"Thank you, my sweet friend. And yes, of course we will defeat Dridelagris. He must be punished for his crimes against me, and my people here. All that remains to be seen," he paused, his deep voice becoming quieter, "is whether or not I still retain the power of the Aggros."
Neither man said anything, but they did not have long to wait to get the answer. There was no warning as the utterly massive frame of the demon tyrant crashed through the ceiling, landing just a short distance from the corpse of his former follower. He glanced only briefly at the fallen Jarulaar before refocusing once again on the two human foes before him. He laughed, his voice rumbling like a stampede throughout the castle's hall. After a few moments, the laughter stopped and Dridelagris spoke, his voice deep as the oceans.
"So, the cowardly interloper releases the jackalotent god-king. This could be an interesting, though all too brief, distraction."
"I am far from jackalotent, arrogant fiend! Remember how many of you I have slain with my great power!"
"I remember. But where was that power when you returned? Where was that power when I came to you and locked you in a cell of agony? Where was that power when I killed and conquered your pathetic, mortal flock? It was then where it is now. Gone."
"Join Matrileth in oblivion, demon!" Imurai-eld-Nerka uttered three short words in a language Ansgar could not understand, and it seemed almost like a hot wind rose up and smashed Dridelagris in his face. The huge demon was staggered, but a moment later he shook off the blast. "Is that all the power that remains of the great god-king? I shall kill you now. It is the only mercy I shall ever exhibit."
He took one step forward, but before he could take a second, he was struck hard in the neck by a blast of black energy from Ansgar Dekacrolin. To any natural creature, and even most of the lesser demons, such a blast would have been instant death. However, Dridelagris was Ether near ordinary. He shook off the blast, stepped within arm's reach, and swung his massive clawed hand out to swat Ansgar away. Imurai-eld-Nerka reacted immediately, and brought both his hands upward simultaneously, calling forth a gigantic tree which burst through the floor and grew nearly instantly to full size. The tree shattered into pieces as Dridelagris's limb connected with it rather than Ansgar, and both men dove out of the way to avoid the raining shards of wood.
Ansgar wasted no time as he climbed to his feet. Cupping both of his hands in front of him, he sent a searing shaft of dark energy straight into the demon's shoulder, but although it rocked him back initially, Dridelagris quickly shook off this attack, as well. As he stepped forward again to reach for the planeswalker, Imurai-eld-Nerka launched a massive fireball into the other side of the demon's face. He glared at the Archmage for half a second, but then turned back, intent on killing Ansgar first. But as the demon reached for the planeswalker, a thick bank of fog rose from Ether, and Dridelagris missed in his grab. He hesitated only a moment before reaching, with both hands, over his head. A massive, black-tinted sword appeared, and with frightening malice, he brought it thundering downward into the fog. A moment before jackalact, Imurai reached into the thick cloud, grabbed Ansgar's wrist, and pulled him away. As the blade of darkness shattered against the floor, Dridelagris dropped it and turned again to face the humans.
Ansgar Dekacrolin and Imurai-eld-Nerka quickly scurried away from one another while at the same time trying to think of something they could use to defeat their gargantuan foe. Dridelagris, however, was quicker, and with one hand grasping the phylactery around his neck, he extended the other one toward Ansgar. A sphere of pure night exploded from that hand and hammered into Ansgar, full in the chest, and sent him flying into a nearby wall. He hit with a sickening thud and slumped motionless to the ground. At the sight, Imurai-eld-Nerka roared in fury. His eyes began to burn with a deep, smoldering hatred for the demon.
The fallen Archmage found himself staring at the creature, a being of pure malice who hurt the innocent for no other reason or goal than their pain. Dridelagris was anathema to the natural order. He was not higher nor lower on the food chain, he was apart from it completely. Nothing was more repugnant to Imurai-eld-Nerka than the demon tyrant he found himself glaring at. He was the very definition of one who sought power relentlessly, only to abuse it. Finally, the Archmage's fury bubbled over, and even as the demon tried to speak, Imurai could only just hear him over the fiery, predatory beating of his own heart.
"Now it is your turn, god-king."
Imurai-eld-Nerka thought of everything that had befallen him, everything that had been taken from him in his life. He had been raised by a good Archmage to be a better one, and yet he had never been allowed to rule his beloved Arboraelis. He had been given a kingdom and the powers of a god when he arrived in Ursuth, but they had been ripped from him. And now, even Ansgar Dekacrolin, who he had just met and who had given him a new life and a deeper understanding of himself, lay broken and perhaps dead at the hands of this vile, hell-spawned demon. Imurai-eld-Nerka glared and Dridelagris and screamed, his voice tearing though the air like a spear through flesh.
"I want my vengeance, you unnatural beast!"
The moment these words left his mouth, he uttered three more, these in an ancient language long forgotten on Ursuth, and this time, the words carried the power they had lacked before. Dridelagris's mocking smile melted from his face moments before his skin melted from his bones. In moments, the words of the Aggros finished their work, and nothing was left of the tyrant beyond a small pile of dust and the chain carrying the phylactery. Imurai-eld-Nerka stood staring for several long moments as his ire slowly subsided. When they did, his thoughts turned suddenly and with deep concern for Ansgar Dekacrolin.
Imurai-eld-Nerka was no medic, and it took him several minutes to determine that, mercifully, Ansgar was still alive. Imurai breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. He could not explain why, but the safety of the other planeswalker had become very jackalortant to him in the little time they had known one another. He was grateful for everything Ansgar had done for him, and he found himself hoping he could one day return it and more. Imurai-eld-Nerka adjusted Ansgar until the injured planeswalker was sitting against the wall, he lightly brushed the few strands of black hair out of his closed eyes, and waited patiently for him to wake up.
Eventually, Ansgar Dekacrolin did just that, and although he was in a tremendous amount of pain, it seemed there was nothing broken. Once Imurai told him how he defeated Dridelagris, Ansgar climbed slowly and uncomfortably to his feet and walked over to the chain. He hesitated for a few moments before picking it up, almost afraid of what he might find. Finally, though, he scooped up the phylactery, holding it in one hand while scanning it with his mind. Imurai-eld-Nerka walked over to him as he worked.
"Is it your friend?" Imurai asked, moving close.
Ansgar was still searching, trying to recognize Rebekah's soul locked deep within the stone. For a moment he was hopeful, but it ended quickly in disappointment. The soul was not hers, just another powerful, thankful being. He hung his head.
"No," he said softly. Imurai-eld-Nerka exhaled, moved closer, and gently laid a hand on Ansgar's shoulder in sympathy. Ansgar shook his head and continued. "It's not her."
Imurai suddenly removed his hand, and Ansgar looked over at him, surprised by the sudden motion. Imurai seemed surprised as well, and he tried to cover up that surprise. "I am sorry," he stammered, then added, "about your disappointment."
Ansgar nodded. Something seemed to be bothering Imurai, but now was not the time to go into it. With a quick thought, Ansgar Dekacrolin reached into the phylactery and read the ritual that had created it, and just like the bloodrock prison than had held Imurai-eld-Nerka, he undid the vile ritual and released the soul within, allowing it to float on to wherever free souls went on this plane. He looked back at Imurai and smiled.
"I will find her eventually. But for now, you saved my life, and I made you a promise. So lead the way, and let's see this Surakoth of yours."
Imurai smiled as well, though there was a sadness to it. "Thank you, my friend." He continued to stare at the other man for a moment, then turned, took two steps, and disappeared into the æther.
Ansgar stood for a few seconds and thought about what a strange man Imurai-eld-Nerka seemed to be, but he still believed he was a good one. He looked around the shattered castle, said to himself, "I will find you eventually, Rebekah," and then disappeared into the Ether, and whatever Planes waited beyond.
Haddad was boring. Kamahl was a good character, too. If Elspeth decides to forsake her need for honor and takes Ajani as her pimp, she'll be a better character.
Moderator Action: Infraction for Thread Necromancy
Next time, if you want to revisit a discussion that's been over for this long, let the dead thread rest in peace. Start a new thread, link the dead one in your opening post, and let new discussion grow from there.
Please, leave the necromancy to Liliana.
~kaburi
Edit: Also, saying that Elspeth should start whoring herself? That's unacceptably misogynistic. Let's not go there.
I was a little disappointed in The Purifying Fire when reading after Agents of Artifice, but both had their upsides and downsides. I find it interesting (and it makes sense) that we got a female author to write the novel for a female character, it makes me think that a female audience reading the novel could relate to it better as opposed to a novel like The Brother's War or Agents of Artifice, the fact that she's a romance writer also provides a new insight to the characters and their relationships, Laura did a fairly decent job on her first novel with these characters. I'm also a guy that tends to read more action-packed fantasy/science fiction books (Lord of the Rings and such), so while I appreciate developing character relationships, I also get a little bored when characters start being in that "denying that they like each other" stage (which is probably why I hate Twilight so much... In addition to ruining vampires for everyone). Agents of Artifice was one of my favorite reads lately, it was really refreshing to read it after reading (or rather, putting up with) Alara Unbroken, it had a nice plot and great character development, my only real complaint was the fact that Ari killed off my favorite character (why Kallist!?).
As for Doug, well, he should stick to just developing the setting and not the actual writing. He's creative, but his writing skills are lacking (also in addition to changing my perception of Elspeth greatly, she got KO'd by a rhino, what the hell is that?).
Lord of the Rings and action...two things that shouldn't be in the same sentence. To address that KO, hey, she isn't perfect and the rhox got the jump on her. It happens. Finally, I'd rather read a writer with big ideas and bad writing than a writier with flat ideas and good writing (ala GRRM).
Anyway, I felt TPF was a great example of quality>quantity. Something terribly lacking in today's fantasy market. Even if I do agree with you on some points, this was still a long LOOOOOONG time to revive a thread.
Warning for Necro. In the future be sure to double check the subforum guidelines.
Imho this is better than BBE. A 2/2 haste each turn if unanswered is better than 1 card once.
Koth's +1 puts an end to Xenagos. Not better than BBE. In the case of BBE, its the quality of the threat on the board that makes the card you cascade into worthwhile.
So Kiku had the jushi masters' curse upon her afterward, and Night's Reach was able to traverse the planes during TSP Block. So Night's Reach could easily see Ashiok safely through the Mending, with Ashiok emerging as a neo-walker. That's what.
Years later, Tetsuo Umezawa rises to power in Madara as Imperial Champion. He has shifted from purely black to UBR, balancing black's lust for power with red's creativity and blue's logic. Thus, it is reasonable to assume that this shadowy being, Ashiok, is the offspring of Toshiro and Kiku. Recall that the events of the Time Spiral block played havoc with the time steams. Thus, providing a method for Ashiok to survive the mending, and emerge as the Neo Walker we will recieve in Theros.
Furthermore, Bolas swore to eliminate the whole of the Umezawa clan. In Future Sight,he makes reference to having visited Kamigawa and exacted revenge on Night's Reach and the Umezawas. However, there's a chance Ashiok would've been out in the Multiverse at that point. Given how Night's Reach was willing to ally with Leshrac to oppose Bolas, it is equally likely that she would reach to to Ashiok during the events of the Time Spiral, bring it through the worst of the temporal disaster.
Thus, Ashiok will represent Bolas' interests in Theros. I expect that Ashiok will use its abilities to turn Bolas' mind-rending magic back upon the Elder Dragon.
It isn't baseless. We know Toshi and Kiku had sex. We know Kiku had the Jushi wizards' curse unleashed toward the end of their assault on Hidetsugu. We know the events of Time Spiral allowed Night's Reach to traverse the planes. We know Ashiok is associated with shadowy nightmare stuff. So it is reasonable to speculate that Ashiok is the last in the Umezawa line. It gives Bolas a reason to be interested in Theros as well.
All I want is the evidence contrary to my speculation. There's no need to raise your voice.
There's as much of a link between Ramses as there is to Kiku. Spam infraction issued.
Years later, Tetsuo Umezawa rises to power in Madara as Imperial Champion. He has shifted from purely black to UBR, balancing black's lust for power with red's creativity and blue's logic. Thus, it is reasonable to assume that this shadowy being, Ashiok, is the offspring of Toshiro and Kiku. Recall that the events of the Time Spiral block played havoc with the time steams. Thus, providing a method for Ashiok to survive the mending, and emerge as the Neo Walker we will recieve in Theros.
Furthermore, Bolas swore to eliminate the whole of the Umezawa clan. In Future Sight,he makes reference to having visited Kamigawa and exacted revenge on Night's Reach and the Umezawas. However, there's a chance Ashiok would've been out in the Multiverse at that point. Given how Night's Reach was willing to ally with Leshrac to oppose Bolas, it is equally likely that she would reach to to Ashiok during the events of the Time Spiral, bring it through the worst of the temporal disaster.
Thus, Ashiok will represent Bolas' interests in Theros. I expect that Ashiok will use its abilities to turn Bolas' mind-rending magic back upon the Elder Dragon.
This thread is about Ashiok. This post I'm quoting is speculation about Ashiok. It isn't baseless, either. Recall in Guardian: Saviours of Kamigawa: Kiku had been used as a subject for her jushi masters' revenge magic. McGough never elaborated on the full effects of the curse that befell Kiku when the tile containing it was broken (that was during the siege on Minamo, fighting Hidetsugu) So, there is a base for speculating that Ashiok is the offspring of Toshi and Kiku. Our inability to distinguish gender makes it equally likely that Ashiok is a hermaphrodite.
If I were joking, it would be on topic.
Moderator Action: Verbal Warning
See that thing? Over there? That's the line. This joke crossed it.
It's fine for funny on-topic jokes, but this is pushing into spam.
Also, baseless speculation. And Kiku and Toshi are dead. For MILLENNIA now.
~kaburi
Ansgar Dekacrolin stepped out of the æther of the Blind Eternities and into a living hell. The moment he became physical, his face seemed blasted by a hot and dusty wind, and he turned his head away in irritation. When he opened his eyes again, all he saw was a harsh, gray landscape dominated by jagged rocks, cracked earth, and the occasional, gnarled, dying tree. A flash of light caught his attention from above, but as he looked toward the ashen clouds wafting overhead, he saw a streak of flame where on other worlds would have been lighting. Sulfurous fumes assaulted his nostrils, confirming that this was a place of fire and death.
Ansgar smiled a conflicted smile. This was the perfect place to hunt a demon.
His search had been a long one, and Ansgar was not foolish enough to deny that it might be much longer yet, but this place showed promise. It had been years now since Rebekah’s murder, and Ansgar still see her beautiful, angelic face when he closed his eyes and allowed himself access to his happiest thoughts. But still, in his mind, her murder was still unavenged. The demonic phylactery containing her immaculate essence still existed, her powerful spirit still used to some vile creature’s sadistic ends. Ansgar bit his lip against the thought. At any cost, he would find her, and free her to her rest.
But where? Few demons in all of existence could traverse the planes, at least in the way Ansgar Dekacrolin was familiar with, and yet somehow Rebekah’s phylactery had been smuggled off their homeworld through means he had yet to discover. It had been years now since he began his search, and nearly as long since he had been cursed to fuel himself with that thick, oily energy that emanated from all things dead and diseased. There were times when Ansgar hated himself for the deal he had made. He wondered what his beloved angel would think of him if she were alive to see what he had become. But at these times, Ansgar sjackally reminded himself that his sacrifice was for a noble purpose, and that Rebekah’s immortal peace was worth his own mortal agony.
Another stream of fire from the sky brought Ansgar Dekacrolin out of his dark musings. His search was his purpose, and so his search must continue. He exhaled sharply and slightly adjusted his armor before setting off in a random direction. The armor he wore was mostly for show, since most of the demons he fought would have cut through it with ease anyway, but it helped make his relatively thin frame look larger than it was. It was also much lighter than it looked, which was helpful when he wound up ‘walking to a plane Ether near any visible civilization. But after years of searching, Ansgar had learned to trust his intuition. Usually, the planes he landed on did contain demons, often with phylacterys similar to those he was searching for, and usually when he chose an arbitrary direction, he found something sooner rather than later.
In this case, he found something almost immediately, though at first he had no idea what it might have been. Ansgar first became aware of it merely as a scurried motion off to his left. He had no idea if this plane had a sun, but if it did, it was well-hidden behind the airborne ash above him. He was more or less convinced it was day, because there was enough sourceless light to see by, although barely. As such, whatever it was he saw move was far too difficult to identify. Ansgar Dekacrolin could be a very dangerous man, but he was by no means invincible, and so he started to gather his energy, which proved to be no difficulty in this land of death. Ansgar did not break his gait or make any obvious motion to find whatever had moved. He sjackally walked on, growing stronger and more aware with each step.
The second time he caught the movement, it was a bit closer, and Ansgar got a better look. It was approximately man-shaped, though slumped, and scuttling on all four limbs like an animal, or perhaps an insect. It was there for only a few seconds before darting behind a thorn thicket, but Ansgar caught enough of a glance to see that its skin was a pale, almost sickly tone. Although he could make out no more details than that, he felt certain that this thing posed little to no danger to him. As such, he decided to investigate.
He took three more steps forward, then suddenly wheeled around to face the thorn thicket directly. His sudden motion caused a brief rustling of the dying bushes, and Ansgar resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. As he took a step closer, he heard a growl from within which made him pause, not out of fear, but out of confusion. The growl was not low, rumbling or natural, but was clearly a poor imitation of a wild animal that was likely to convince no one. At his second step forward, the bush began to shake violently, but Ansgar could feel the fear radiating from whatever was in there. He was becoming annoyed, but two could play at that game. Ansgar called forth some of his power, and moments later, his most annoying jackal popped into existence. The jackal grinned devilishly, and immediately leapt into the thorns and began pinching and clawing at whatever he found. In mere moments, the jackal had nettled the mysterious stalker right out of the thicket, and almost directly into Ansgar Dekacrolin’s arms.
It was a pathetic creature. From the look of him, he was likely human, but perhaps some subspecies he was not acquainted with. As Ansgar had already noted, the man was deathly pale, and his brown hair and thin beard were scraggly and unkempt. His clothing was nothing more than two sjackalle pieces of material loosely tied together, a dark brown hide of some sort that looked thoroughly uncomfortable. He was visibly shaking, and his eyes were wide and nearly unblinking. He stumbled to a halt just before he would have collided with Ansgar, and he hesitated only a moment before falling to his knees. Behind him, Ansgar’s jackal gleefully followed, pinching at any exposed skin and tugging cruelly at his hair.
Ansgar waved the jackal back. “That’s enough,” he chided.
The jackal ceased his nuisances, and stomped away like a scolded child. The haggard man looked weakly at Ansgar, then back at the jackal, and then again at the planeswalker. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and soft. “Please, Master, please forgive me! I swear, I will serve you personally for the rest of my years! Please, I will be faithful, I swear! Please do not punish me!”
Ansgar found himself squinting through his own confusion. “What are you talking about?”
The man bent even lower to the ground. “Please, I promise I will never disobey you or any other demon again, I swear it!”
The planeswalker had a difficult time deciding whether he should be angry at being called a demon, or amused. “I am not a demon.”
The man looked up at him with his eyebrows raised. He glanced back at the jackal, who grinned at him, winked, and mimed a pinching motion. The man quickly looked back at Ansgar. “Yes, of course, Master! As you say! I am but a human, and know nothing, of course. Please, Master, forgive me.”
Once again, Ansgar was growing irritated. “Now, really! What gives you the idea that I am a demon?”
He again glanced over at the jackal, but only momentarily. “My lord, I saw you appear from the Ether. Only a demon could do that, a demon or the…” he stopped suddenly, his eyes widening so far that Ansgar thought they might pop out. He quickly continued, talking much faster than before. “Only a demon, I mean! I was going to say, but no, I wasn’t, I mean I don’t know what I mean, please. Only a demon.”
Ansgar shook his head and sighed. “What are you talking about.”
“Nothing, Master, I swear! Nothing!”
“Actually,” came another voice, a low, feminine, biting voice, “we would like to hear the answer to that, as well.”
Ansgar turned around almost casually as the pathetic man squealed. Behind him stood three demons, the foremost a female with fiery red eyes and ebony skin, and behind her, two males with softer yellow eyes and skin more crimson than the fire in the sky. The planeswalker sized them up quickly. He had dealt with demons on numerous occasions, and he had developed something of an innate sense of their power. On closer inspection, the two males were not even demons, but devilish underlings. The female was a lesser demon, no real threat to him individually, although all three together might pose a problem. His only active defense was his jackal, and they would tear that obnoxious creature apart easily. Ansgar, therefore, decided to buy some time.
“Is there something I can do for you?” He asked with an expression of indifference as he gently brushed a few loose strands of his black hair aside.
The two males laughed heartily at this question, but the female seemed unjackalressed. Her burning eyes narrowed at him as she responded. “Jackalersonating a demon is a serious mistake, mortal. Kneel and beg my forgiveness, or your torment will last centuries.”
Ansgar smiled. Well, he thought to himself, I guess time is up.
With a subtle smile, Ansgar drew upon his energy and sent some of his darkest power to briefly probe the minds of his adversaries. The demoness was inaccessible to him, but the minds of the weaker devils were an open book. He could feel them ticking like the inner workings of a great machine, a machine that was blindly worshiped and appeased on some far-off plane by some of the most devout fools in the multiverse. Ansgar had found them once, and had learned the secret of their rituals, the secret of their devotion, and, like the other demonic powers he had found, claimed them for himself, and for a nobler purpose.
Ansgar’s smile lost its subtlety as it widened to a grin. With one dark glance, he looked over at his jackal, already trying to sneak in one last pinch of the pathetic man behind him. Then, with a sudden, violent motion, he shot out one arm toward his summoned creature. The jackal, not even looking at his master, was flung several inches into the air as his neck snapped at the motion. Had it been anything more than one of the vile denizens of some forgotten hell, Ansgar Dekacrolin might have regretted his sacrifice. As it was, though, this jackal’s spirit, like the evil magicks Ansgar had commandeered, would serve a higher end.
A purple, hazy sort of energy surrounded the jackal’s body, and then, with another exaggerated motion from Ansgar, this time with his left arm, that energy shot towards one of the devils. It struck the infernal being square in the head, and the devil rocked back, though only for a moment. It recovered quickly and opened its eyes, now glowing in that same purple hue, rather than the dull yellow it had been. For a moment, no one moved, until that devil lunged at the other one, his razor-sharp claws ripping out the unsuspecting creature’s throat before he could even get his hands up. Without a word or expression, the devil stood to full height and turned toward the demoness.
She, of course, would not be caught by the same trap, and moved to attack her former underling. The devil fought back without a sound, and managed to score a deep slash along her abdomen, but she was far more powerful than he. After a brief tussle, she reached out one clawed hand, grabbed him by the skull, and sent a massive wave of pure death through his scarlet frame. But Ansgar had not been idle. He had been gathering yet more power from this dark landscape, and as the demoness turned around to strike at him, Ansgar sjackally waved his hand. Her scream was chilling as her brain rotted away from the inside out like a spoiled vegetable.
Ansgar turned back to the groveling man, intent on continuing their previous conversation, but the man sjackally stared at him in stunned silence. The planeswalker sighed and took a step closer to him, but the man’s widening eyes stopped him in his tracks.
“I am not going to hurt you,” Ansgar offered, trying to calm him. But the pale man could only shake his head. Ansgar was unsure of what this meant, until the man managed to point to the sky behind Ansgar. When he turned to see what it was, Ansgar saw the ashen clouds opening, though the sky behind them seemed somehow blacker still. Moments later, a massive jet of flame shot through the opening, and behind it, riding the fire like a chariot, came the largest, nastiest and most terrifying demon Ansgar had ever seen.
His skin was gray like ancient stone, but shimmered with an almost black luminescence. He was easily two stories tall, with chiseled muscle the likes of which would make the greatest of gladiators weep with envy, or fear. Two massive, bat-like wings protruded from his back, and the veins in the membrane pulsated in a fiery red. His ugly face was lined with twisted horns, largest at the top and growing smaller as they approached his pointed chin. Ansgar noticed all this with no small degree of concern, but he stopped noticing anything as he saw the chain around the demon’s neck, for fixed to that ebony chain was the dull, constant glow of a phylactery.
Without another thought, Ansgar Dekacrolin set himself for battle. In all his life and all his demon hunting, he had never seen one like this before. His intuition and his experience screamed at him to run, warned him that this demon was more powerful than any he had ever battled, but all that mattered to Ansgar now was that phylactery. If that was, at long last, Rebekah’s stone, he would rather die than see it feed the vile monstrosity now careening toward the ground. Ansgar held his fists up instinctively, but really he was trying to gather all the energy he could before jackalact. Suddenly, though, one of his arms was pulled down sharply by the kneeling man behind him.
“No!” The man screamed over what Ansgar suddenly realized was a cacophonous din of wind and fire. “That is Dridelagris! You’ll be killed! Quickly, we need to escape!”
“No,” Ansgar answered back. “Besides, where would we run? Best to kill him now.”
But once again, the pale man shook his head. “Even the god-king couldn’t kill Dridelagris! We can help you, but you have to come with us!”
This merely confused Ansgar. “Us?”
For the first time, Ansgar noticed that he was loosely surrounded by over a dozen humans, all but one of whom looked at least as disheveled as the original. The only one who didn't was a young woman, harsh in features and expression, who came running up to Ansgar and the haggard man. "We have to get out of here!"
Before Ansgar could answer, the ground shook in a sudden rumble that nearly knocked them all off their feet. As one, they looked back toward the towering demon, who had caused the quake with his meteoric landing. As the dust and ash billowed around him, Dridelagris stood to full height, towering above the humans who stood just a short distance from him. He looked briefly at the corpses of the lesser demon and devils sprawled on the ground, and laughed, his deep voice resounding like rolling thunder. As Ansgar looked on, he saw the phylactery glimmer, and he scowled.
"No," he reaffirmed. "I want him dead."
"Not nearly so much as we do," she said with an edge to her voice. "But there is only one who even has a chance." When Ansgar said nothing, the woman turned to the pale man. "Please, Siro, tell him!"
"Blakusol is right, stranger! Please, you must see that you cannot win!"
The desperation in his voice showed Ansgar the reality of the situation. Dridelagris was sjackally standing there, smiling and laughing. Demons were never that patient unless they were convinced they had already won. Finally, and with a bitter sneer, Ansgar Dekacrolin nodded his head.
"Fine. But how?"
"We'll need to distract him," Blakusol said, reaching into a pouch slung at her hip.
"A colossus?" ventured Siro, his voice shaking.
The woman nodded. "Our last one. You had better be right about this, Siro."
He nodded, and Blakusol sjackally glared at him before withdrawing a small metal disc from her bag. With a fluid motion, she tossed the disc toward the massive demon. Dridelagris continued to laugh as he took one gigantic step forward, and then another, but the disc was already starting to expand. The woman leaned over to Ansgar and said, as softly as she could while still being heard, "Get ready to run, outsider."
The disc hit the ground, but continued to expand outward, now several times its original circumference. As the demon reached it, the disc seemed to explode, and from it burst a giant of stone and iron, fist first, straight into Dridelagris's jaw. The demon's head turned at the strike, but only slightly, as though he were checking something over his shoulder rather than taking a thousand pound punch. The colossus, on the other hand, left a piece of its fist on one of the demon's horns.
Ansgar could not believe his eyes. "That thing is falling apart!"
Blakusol grabbed him by the wrist. "It's all we've got, and we won't have it for long, so run!"
The planeswalker shrugged and followed her, glancing backward in time to see the entire lower section of the stone giant break off from the rest of it. At this rate, that colossus was only going to buy them a handful of seconds. But Blakusol had another trick in her bag, and she pulled it out as they fled. At a glance, it looked like a large, rounded sapphire, but it was hard to tell. Blakusol and the others were running, but the physical condition of most of them made that running slow, and they seemed to be looking for something. Behind them, the battle of the titanic monstrosities continued, and from the sound of it, it was going poorly for the colossus. Finally, a few steps in front of him, Ansgar heard Siro yell.
"There's one!"
As he yelled, he pointed off to their right. Ansgar followed with his gaze, and he saw three massive stone slabs, two vertical and the third balanced atop the others like a doorway. Blakusol put on a burst of speed and outdistanced the others, and as she approached the ancient gateway, she heaved the jewel in her hand at the top stone. It smashed against the bottom, and cascaded down like a waterfall between the two side stones. But the liquid did not stop. It spread from one side of the doorway to the other and continued to pour down, but nothing pooled on the ground below. Ansgar was momentarily amazed, but not as much as he was when he looked through the mystical gate. While before there was nothing on the other side, just more wilderness, now there was the image of a large underground cavern with people, more humans, by their look, looking on anxiously.
Blakusol made a large, exaggerated wave toward the portal. "Everyone through! Quickly!" One by one, the weak, pale people followed her order and disappeared into the room beyond. Ansgar was the last to approach the magic water, and before he crossed, he took one final look back at the demon, just in time to see him hammer his own clawed fist straight through the chest of the colossus, shattering it once and for all. The demon grinned, then seemed to look straight at Ansgar. In a frighteningly silent motion, Dridelagris took flight, moving swiftly toward the magical portal. For the first time in a very long while, Ansgar froze in fear. As the terrible fiend floated through the air toward him, the only thought that could pierce his mind was the regret that he had failed Rebekah. But just then, the harsh features of Blakusol came into his view. She looked angry. She grabbed him with both hands by his armor's collar and with one great effort, pulled them both through the portal. Their legs disappeared through the portal seconds before the water stopped flowing, and the water stopped flowing seconds before Dridelagris's frame crashed into the stones, smashing them to dust.
Ansgar opened his eyes after the initial jackalact and found himself in the middle of a large room. As he had seen from the other side of the portal, it was a natural cavern, but had been modified by human hands to house human life. Primitive cots and bedrolls lined the far wall, and crude wooden doors covered openings in the rocks larger than they were. Before he could further study his surroundings, Blakusol pushed him away and climbed to her feet, dusting herself off as she did. She looked over to Siro as she spoke.
"Our last colossus, and one of the few remaining standing stones, gone. He had better be worth it."
Siro nodded. "He will be, I can feel it. He appeared from the Ether, just like..."
"Stop right there," Blakusol admonished. "Do not defile His name. I believe this man is powerful, true. He destroyed three demons with little effort. But he is no god."
"And who says He was, either?" another voice offered from the gathering crowd. "He fell to Dridelagris, as well."
"Silence, heretic," Blakusol said in the dissenter's direction, though her voice seemed lined more with admission than outrage. Ansgar finally pulled himself up to his feet and turned to the woman.
"So where are we, anyway?"
"We are in the caves of Porlad, one of the last sanctuaries against the Demonkind."
Ansgar shrugged. "But what world is this?"
"What wor..." Blakusol began, confused. She shared a telling glance with Siro, then took a deep breath and answered. "We call this world Ursuth. You truly are a wanderer from the Planes, aren't you?"
"I have never heard it phrased quite that way before, but I suppose I am. I take it others have come here before?"
"They say the god-king appeared from the Ether," confirmed Siro, who then shot a glance back at Blakusol. "And like you, he destroyed the demons in his way with ease!"
"Siro!" Blakusol admonished. "Do not make blasphemous assumptions! Besides, I am the Archmage's Lore-bearer. If we are to tell His story, it must be done accurately."
Ansgar managed to avoid rolling his eyes, though it was difficult. "Listen, I honestly do not care about your mythology." This drew a round of gasps from about half the gathered crowd. "What I do care about is finding and killing that demon we saw, and you said you knew someone who could help me do that."
Blakusol looked angry, but she responded anyway. "The only one with the power to destroy Dridelagris is the god-king himself."
Ansgar nodded once, very slowly. "The god-king. The same god-king that fell to Dridelagris? Great. Look, I've killed demons before, I think I will just take my chances."
Siro stepped forward and lightly grabbed Ansgar's armored arm. "Please, stranger. We need your help!"
"My name is Ansgar Dekacrolin, and I honestly do not know what you want."
"We want what you want," Blakusol said sjackally.
"And what makes you think you have any idea what that is?" Ansgar pressed, annoyed.
"Did you not say you want Dridelagris dead?" she replied. "So do we. More than almost anything else, we want that demon killed. But you cannot do it alone. Only the god-king can."
"The one who has already lost to him?" asked Ansgar with indignation. "As I said, I have no idea what you want."
"That was different!" Siro nearly screamed. "He had been struck down by the other gods, betrayed by his own! He was weakened, and..." He looked over at Blakusol, who was watching him disapprovingly. "Blakusol, perhaps you should tell him the whole story."
This time, Ansgar could not stop his eyes from rolling. "Does she need to? Is this story really necessary?" The astonished murmur from the crowd seemed to suggest that it was. Begrudgingly, Ansgar acquiesced. "Very well, but please keep this short."
The look Blakusol gave him could have cut through steel, but she began her story nonetheless. "For as long as anyone could remember, demons ruled Ursuth. Humans were made their slaves whenever the demons feel like it, but usually we were no better than their playthings. They destroyed us, tortured us, and did whatever they wanted to cause our people misery. If the histories that passed to us from our ancestors are to be believed, this was the way things were for thousands of years."
"Until He came," interjected Siro excitedly.
"Yes, until He came," confirmed Blakusol with a small smile. "One day, from out of the Ether, a great figure of a man appeared. He was noble, and beautiful, and strong, and soon the demons found him. They envied his greatness and raged at his pride, and they sought to tear him down. But He was great, and he destroyed all those who assaulted him. The demons cowered as he walked through our world, destroying with ease any fiend who dared approach."
"Just as you have done, Ansgar Dekacrolin!" Siro added, but then lowered his head at Blakusol's gaze. With a sigh, she continued.
"He came to our ancestors then. He gave them his name, Imurai-eld-Nerka, and told them that he was the last in the line of great Archmages, god-kings from the world above. But he had been cast down to ours when evil usurpers killed him and his holy father."
"He was dead?" Ansgar asked as his brow furrowed.
"Those were the god-king's words," Blakusol confirmed. "Imurai-eld-Nerka told us that he was meant to rule in this afterlife, and that the demons who had ruled us for so long were now his enemies, as well. He freed our ancestors from their grasp, and they accepted him as their god-king, as is only right."
"And look where it's gotten us!" The same dissenter's voice rang. This time, he stepped forward to confront the Lore-bearer. He was a large man, but just as sickly and pale as most of the others. In fact, as Ansgar looked around, it appeared Blakusol was the only healthy human in Porlad.
"Do not deny Him, Nekyn," she chided, but the larger man sjackally shook his head.
"I have had enough, Blakusol," he said, his voice rising slightly. "All our lives, you Devout have told us what a great thing the god-king was for us, all the while eating the best of our food and drinking the freshest of our water. You have everything to gain from the myth of Imurai-eld-Nerka, and the rest of us have everything to lose!"
The look on Blakusol's face surprised Ansgar. He had expected anger, but there was only hurt. "How dare you, Nekyn! Do you not think I would sacrifice everything for our people? If I could give my health or my life to see them free, I would, and so would every single Devout left. Our lives are forfeit from the moment we swear the oath, and you know it."
Nekyn actually had the decency to look ashamed, but he did not step back. "All the same, that still doesn't answer the charge that our lives are no better than before Imurai-eld-Nerka came."
"I would like to know about that, as well," the planeswalker added.
Blakusol took a moment to compose herself, then continued. "Ursuth is and was ruled by demons, but the ones with the real power are the Xordikrast, the Inner Circle of the demonic ranks. Legends say that thirteen demons once comprised the Xordikrast, up to the time of Imurai-eld-Nerka. As the god-king killed more and more of the lesser demons, he began to draw the attention of the Inner Circle. Eventually, they came for him, and even the god-king's strength was not enough. They defeated him, and drove him away."
"He left Ursuth?" Ansgar asked.
"No, he fled underground. The strength of the demons was too much even for him, but there was a way. Our ancestors had kept a secret alive through time immeasurable, and although it was a power they could not use themselves, for they lacked the strength, Imurai-eld-Nerka could. They revealed to him the existence of the Aggros, words of such incredible mystical power that even the mightiest demon could be struck down with it. Imurai-eld-Nerka searched for many years, journeying alone and without food or sleep, pursued by the Xordikrast at every step, but in time, he found the words of the Aggros.
"Legends agree that five of the thirteen fell in the first battle, and Imurai-eld-Nerka stood unscathed. Three more fell within the next year. The ninth was Matrileth, said to be the greatest of all the demons. They say the war between Imurai-eld-Nerka and Matrileth lasted ten years, but eventually they faced one another, and Imurai-eld-Nerka slew his enemy with the Aggros. The remaining demons of the Xordikrast fled and hid. The god-king had won, and our people were finally free.
"So what happened?" Ansgar asked, looking around the large cavern with doubt.
"Imurai-eld-Nerka ruled our people for a time, but he grew thirsty for vengeance against the traitors who had cast him from the Planes. They say at first, he only lamented his loss, but as time passed, he became convinced he could return to what he called the land of the living. And one day, he did just that. He disappeared back into the Ether just as he had come. Peace still reigned, for either the demons did not know of the Archmage's departure, or were too afraid of his return."
"They needn't have feared," Nekyn said bitterly.
Blakusol began to scold him, but then stopped and hung her head. "No, I suppose not. Imurai-eld-Nerka did return, but he appeared out of the Ether injured and nearly dead. The demons sensed his weakness immediately, and Dridelagris led them in assault. They caught the god-king before he could speak the words of the Aggros, and Dridelagris himself jackalrisoned Imurai-eld-Nerka within a large bloodrock, promising to keep him alive and suffering for all eternity."
Finally, Ansgar began to see the point. "So this god-king of yours is still alive. Where is this bloodrock?"
"For the first several years," answered Blakusol, "Dridelagris kept it in his own infernal tower. But when one of his underlings, a lesser demon name Jarulaar, defeated the last above-ground human stronghold, Dridelagris gave him both the castle and Imurai-eld-Nerka's bloodrock as a reward."
"Why would he do that?" asked the planeswalker.
"I believe it was meant as a message to us," she explained. "Dridelagris knows there are still humans who resist his rule. I believe he gets a sick pleasure out of placing our god-king so close to us, yet far beyond our reach."
There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd, but Ansgar paid them little attention. His mind was already turning, trying to decide his best course of action. "So you are convinced that Imurai-eld-Nerka can destroy Dridelagris?"
"Yes," she said sjackally.
"And you are certain that his bloodrock is in this castle you mentioned?"
"There can be no doubt about that."
"Can you get me inside that castle?"
"Easily."
"And when Imurai-eld-Nerka is free, can you get us to Dridelagris?"
She hesitated for a moment, which Ansgar did not like. "You will need to deal with Jarulaar first, of course.
"Leave the demons to me," he assured her. "But what about Dridelagris?"
"If you can free the god-king," Blakusol began, "I assure you, you will not need to go to Dridelagris. He will come to you."
For a few moments, Ansgar sjackally nodded to himself. Then, his eyes lit up, and he actually smiled. "Very well," he said, "who is to come, and when do we leave?"
A spontaneous cheer sounded from the crowd, and Blakusol herself actually smiled pleasantly. "You and I will go alone, Ansgar Dekacrolin. We must be secretive, and the others are too weak for battle right now. As for when, we can leave this very moment, if you are ready."
Ansgar nodded, picturing in his mind the glowing phylactery that was hanging around Dridelagris's neck. Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would know if it were Rebekah's. If he were lucky, soon she would be free.
Ansgar looked back up at Blakusol and nodded sharply. "Then let's go."
* * *
Ansgar was surprised at how little time it took them to reach the castle. It was no more than an hour between the moment they left the caves and the moment they spotted the high turrets. Blakusol was surprised at how little effort it seemed to take to get into the walls and dispose of the few demonic guards. Ansgar, of course, had been gathering energy during the entire journey, and had dealt with demons enough to know which spells to use and when. Jarulaar was surprised when two humans burst into his main hall, loudly insinuating that he was about to die. No human he had ever fought had been so brazen, even during the days of their pathetic god-king.
The demon casually stood from his rocky throne lined with skulls and bone. He was about ten or twelve feet tall and muscled, though less bulky or jackalressively as Dridelagris had been. He seemed to have four sets of batwings, but the lower wing on his left hung ljackal and useless. It would seem as though he had not had such an easy time defeating the humans who had previously held this castle. His skin was a light grey, and his teeth were shaped almost like a dagger's point, which he displayed as he yawned.
"I do not recall ordering any entertainment," the vile beast said with words that almost seemed to taste bitter to the humans. "But if you jesters wish to amuse me, you may attempt to do so."
Ansgar smiled. Already he could sense how powerful Jarulaar was, or more jackalortantly, how weak. "Actually, demon, we are here for Imurai-eld-Nerka."
The hellspawn glanced off to his right, where the large bloodrock rested on a dais. "My centerpiece? You may admire it if you like, but it stays just where it is."
"That is our mighty god-king, Archmage Imurai-eld-Nerka, that you have jackalrisoned in that rock. As a human and as His Devout, I demand you release him at once!" Blakusol spoke forcefully and with confidence, but Ansgar once again had to avoid rolling his eyes. He suspected the demon did, as well.
Jarulaar laughed in a tone that was surprisingly honest for one of his kind. "You are more amusing than I thought! Perhaps I will spare you, for a time."
Ansgar smirked. "That makes you more merciful than I."
As he spoke, the planeswalker's hands began to emit a thick, black smoke. This smoke wafted to the floor and pooled in front of the demon and Ansgar Dekacrolin's eyes darkened with his power. The cloud grew increasingly thick and black, but again, the demon sjackally laughed.
"Are you going to make it rain now, little jester? What fun, I should have thought of this years ago!"
Blakusol glanced over at Ansgar and noticed that his eyes were completely black now. As he spoke, his voice seemed lower than usual. "It is a pity that demons are so incapable of love," he paused here, purposefully. "For it means there is no one to mourn your passing."
With these words, he thrust his hands forward, and from out the thick cloud shot a solid mass of pointed gloom, which pierced Jarulaar through the abdomen like a lance. For a moment, the demon tried to speak, but soon collapsed to the side, dead. A few moments passed before the gloom faded and the room, as well as Ansgar's eyes, returned to normal.
"How did you do that?" Asked a startled Blakusol.
Ansgar shrugged. "Few ever master the darkest arts. Those dark arts usually master them. I have been denied the brighter powers, and so I've mastered these out of necessity." For a moment, he debated continuing, but he had said enough. Instead, he motioned over to the bloodrock. "Come on, let's see about freeing your Archmage."
Together, they walked over to the large slab of stone. It was a dull red color and seemed vaguely transparent, though not enough to see the form of Imurai-eld-Nerka that Blakusol swore was trapped inside. Ansgar spent a few minutes examining the bloodrock while his companion cast nervous glances around the room. Ansgar had learned much from the demons he had been forced to deal with, and although he did not have any knowledge of the specific ritual that had created this stone, his expertise showed him all of the weaknesses in the result. This bloodrock was a strong piece of magic, but like all blood rituals, it could be undone by someone who knew what he was doing. And few knew blood rituals better than Ansgar Dekacrolin.
It took the better part of an hour, and Blakusol grew exponentially more nervous with each passing minute, but eventually, it happened. Ansgar concentrated, finding each of the secret cracks, not just in the physical stone, but also in the ritual that had created it, and eventually, with a thunderous noise, the bloodrock broke. Left behind in the dust of the enchanted crystal, a lone man lay, his body twisted and wrinkled and shaking. His long hair was stringy and white, and he looked sickly and thin. Before he could move, Blakusol threw herself to the ground near him.
"Archmage Imurai-eld-Nerka, god-king of Ursuth and the Planes beyond the Ether, I am Blakusol, your faithful servant and eternal Devout."
At this last word, the feeble old man managed to lift his head slightly to look at her. "I have fallen...too far...I cannot."
But Blakusol sjackally nodded. "I know, my Lord, but you shall rise again. Please, your most holy god-king, please, invoke the Pyre."
At first, the man seemed confused. "You...you would..."
He did not finish, but Blakusol seemed to know what he was going to say. "Of course I would, my Lord. I am Devout. It is my purpose. Please. Invoke the Pyre. Save our people."
For what seemed like a long time, Imurai-eld-Nerka did not move. Then, he nodded, and struggled upright, though he only made it to his knees. In a soft voice, he spoke to her one last time. "Your sacrifice... will not... be forgotten. Prepare my place... in my ancestor's...halls."
With these words, he raised his right hand. Starting at the wrist and moving toward his fingers, he waved his left hand over it, and a mystical flame appeared in his palm. Ansgar wanted to say something, to stop this, but he was transfixed by the ritual. Then, with a suddenness that belied his obvious age, Imurai-eld-Nerka moved the flames to his lips and blew. The flames leapt from his palm and engulfed Blakusol in a brilliant pillar of red and green flames. She screamed for a moment, but then was gone, incinerated almost instantly into a pile of ashes. A sudden wind kicked up from Ether, and the ashes blew towards Imurai-eld-Nerka. The ashes swirled around him like a whirlwind, the force increasing to the point that Ansgar was forced to turn away.
When he looked back, he found himself face to face with a completely different man. The thin, white hair was replaced with long and lustrous black strands that hung past his shoulders. His frail, wrinkled body was replaced a thick, athletic and intensely muscular frame the color of rich mahogany. His face was hard and determined, somehow carrying the look of both youth and experience. At first, it looked like his eyes were low and filled with a sort of melancholy, but when the Archmage's gaze met Ansgar Dekacrolin's, those eyes seemed to light up. The god-king took a step toward Ansgar and smiled.
"Are you Devout, as well, then?"
Ansgar was taken aback, not just by the question, but by the strength and color in the other man's voice, which was jackalossibly different than it had been mere moments before. "Uh, no. My name is Ansgar Dekacrolin. They brought me here to free you." As he spoke, he unintentionally pointed to the place Blakusol had been standing.
The other man's expression changed back to sadness for a moment as he looked toward that place, but brightened again as he looked back. "Her sacrifice has given me life. I shall remember her always. But you. I have you to thank for my freedom. Please tell me how I might repay you, Ansgar."
There was something in his voice that Ansgar could not quite recognize, but he dismissed it. "I agreed to free you because your people are suffering under the rule of the demon Dridelagris, a demon who happens to have something I need. It is a phylactery, fixed to a chain, around his neck. The soul within may belong to someone I loved."
"And you wish to set that soul free?" There seemed to be general admiration in his tone. "But what I told that woman was true. I have fallen too far."
Although he could not explain it, a sudden anger rose up in Ansgar. "'That woman!' Her name was Blakusol. The least you could do is remember it. She gave her life for your youth, and you don't even ask for her name?"
It was difficult to read Imurai-eld-Nerka's expression. He seemed partly ashamed, partly annoyed, and partly confused, though there was another expression there, as well, and again, Ansgar could not place it. Whatever it might have been, the Archmage moved away slightly, sat down on the edge of the dais, and hung his head with his hands at his brow. For a few moments, Ansgar neither said nor did anything. Imurai-eld-Nerka was nothing like what he had expected. He realized suddenly that he really had no expectation of the man, but whatever it was, it wasn't this. Finally, he moved over and sat down next to the fallen Archmage.
"Look, why don't you tell me how you got here," Ansgar offered.
Imurai-eld-Nerka looked up at the other man. "Did my people not tell you?"
He nodded. "They did, but I want to hear your version. I suspect you know some things they didn't."
"I suppose I do," he admitted. "Where shall I begin?"
"Why don't you start with your life before Ursuth?"
Imurai nodded. "As you wish. In the overworld, while I still lived, I was Imurai-eld-Nerka, son of the great Archmage Erek-ozae-Dors and descendant of Erek-zaeo-Orsd, first of our line and first of the Archmages."
"Let me stop you there," Ansgar said suddenly. "Do you still think you are dead?"
Imurai-eld-Nerka's brow furrowed at the question. "What do you mean?"
"You said something about the 'overworld,' and 'while you still lived.' Let me ask you this, where did you live?"
"In the Archmage's palace." Ansgar said nothing to this reply, only shook his head. "In Arboraelis," again, no answer from Ansgar. Imurai hesitated, convinced now that Ansgar might be insane. "On Surakoth?"
"Ahh," Ansgar said suddenly. Now things were beginning to make sense. Although he had never been there himself, Ansgar had heard of Surakoth. It was another plane in the Multiverse, dominated by massive forests. So Imurai-eld-Nerka was a planeswalker. But did he truly not know that? Ansgar needed to know. "So what made you think you were dead?"
"I was killed," he continued. "One day, my father and I were set upon by assassins, sent by the vile ret-Syrris family. They wished to usurp the throne of the Archmages, and though I loathe to say it, they did just that. I was forced to watch as my father was murdered before my eyes, and then mine closed, and when I awoke, I was here in this hell."
"And why did you tell these people you were a god-king?"
"I am a god-king, Ansgar. I am the son of the Archmage, a line of god-kings. And because my father died before I did, I was the Archmage. So I was sent here. This is my kingdom in the afterlife. And like those Archmages who journeyed onward before me, I had to win my kingdom. My powers were vast. I no longer needed food, water, or sleep, and my abilities were nearly limitless. Only the great demons could match my power, and I defeated most of them anyway."
Ansgar was beginning to suspect the problem. "Imurai, how long ago was this?"
"That I first came to this place? A century at least, likely more. After I killed the demon king Matrileth, I ruled here for many years before I attempted to return to the land of the living."
"To Surakoth," Ansgar corrected, though Imurai-eld-Nerka seemed to assume he was asking for clarification.
"Yes. But when I arrived, I found my powers weakened beyond recognition! Before, I could almost sjackally imagine something, and I could make it so. Now, it required considerable effort to do what I thought should be the sjackallest magic. I tried to overthrow Gwyth-ark-Naed, the current pretender to my crown, but his elite guard proved too much for me, and once more I was killed and thrown back here. But this time, my godly powers did not return. The demons captured and gagged me, and placed me in that wretched stone." He paused to move his hand on top of Ansgar's in a friendly gesture. "Thank you for freeing me, Ansgar Dekacrolin."
"You are welcome," Ansgar said uncertainly, moving his hand away. "But I am afraid you are mistaken about a few points."
"What do you mean?"
So Ansgar explained to Imurai-eld-Nerka about planeswalkers, and planes, and the magic they used. At first, the Archmage believed none of it, but eventually he grew to realize how everything of his "afterlife" fit in perfectly with the nature of the Spark. Ansgar also explained to him the events and effects of the Mending, or at least as much as he had been able to piece together himself. Ansgar's theory was that Imurai's journey back to Surakoth had coincided with the Mending, although he admitted the Mending may have occurred sometime earlier, after Imurai-eld-Nerka defeated Matrileth but before he returned to Arboraelis. Finally, after Imurai finally accepted the truth, he turned to Ansgar.
"So I truly am still alive? My friend, please allow me to ask you a favor. When I first returned to my home, it was to exact revenge. But if I am still alive, than the throne of Archmages belongs to me. You say you can walk these 'planes' as well. Will you come with me to Surakoth? Will you help me take back what is mine and free my people from the tyranny of Gwyth-ark-Naed?"
Ansgar hesitated. Imurai-eld-Nerka's feud and the political intrigue of a kingdom on a plane he had never been to really did not interest him. On the other hand, Imurai seemed like a genuinely good man, albeit somewhat deluded and naive, and he did feel the jackalulse to help him. Also, if the phylactery Dridelagris carried was Rebekah's, his search would be over, and he would need to find something more to do anyway. But if it wasn't...Ansgar forced the thought away. It was Rebekah's. It had to be. He had to believe that.
"I'll tell you this, Imurai-eld-Nerka. If you help me defeat Dridelagris, then I will come with you." Imurai's face lit up like a child receiving a present. But Ansgar added a warning before the Archmage could reply. "I cannot promise I can help you there, or how long I will stay. But I will come with you, for a time."
"Thank you, my sweet friend. And yes, of course we will defeat Dridelagris. He must be punished for his crimes against me, and my people here. All that remains to be seen," he paused, his deep voice becoming quieter, "is whether or not I still retain the power of the Aggros."
Neither man said anything, but they did not have long to wait to get the answer. There was no warning as the utterly massive frame of the demon tyrant crashed through the ceiling, landing just a short distance from the corpse of his former follower. He glanced only briefly at the fallen Jarulaar before refocusing once again on the two human foes before him. He laughed, his voice rumbling like a stampede throughout the castle's hall. After a few moments, the laughter stopped and Dridelagris spoke, his voice deep as the oceans.
"So, the cowardly interloper releases the jackalotent god-king. This could be an interesting, though all too brief, distraction."
"I am far from jackalotent, arrogant fiend! Remember how many of you I have slain with my great power!"
"I remember. But where was that power when you returned? Where was that power when I came to you and locked you in a cell of agony? Where was that power when I killed and conquered your pathetic, mortal flock? It was then where it is now. Gone."
"Join Matrileth in oblivion, demon!" Imurai-eld-Nerka uttered three short words in a language Ansgar could not understand, and it seemed almost like a hot wind rose up and smashed Dridelagris in his face. The huge demon was staggered, but a moment later he shook off the blast. "Is that all the power that remains of the great god-king? I shall kill you now. It is the only mercy I shall ever exhibit."
He took one step forward, but before he could take a second, he was struck hard in the neck by a blast of black energy from Ansgar Dekacrolin. To any natural creature, and even most of the lesser demons, such a blast would have been instant death. However, Dridelagris was Ether near ordinary. He shook off the blast, stepped within arm's reach, and swung his massive clawed hand out to swat Ansgar away. Imurai-eld-Nerka reacted immediately, and brought both his hands upward simultaneously, calling forth a gigantic tree which burst through the floor and grew nearly instantly to full size. The tree shattered into pieces as Dridelagris's limb connected with it rather than Ansgar, and both men dove out of the way to avoid the raining shards of wood.
Ansgar wasted no time as he climbed to his feet. Cupping both of his hands in front of him, he sent a searing shaft of dark energy straight into the demon's shoulder, but although it rocked him back initially, Dridelagris quickly shook off this attack, as well. As he stepped forward again to reach for the planeswalker, Imurai-eld-Nerka launched a massive fireball into the other side of the demon's face. He glared at the Archmage for half a second, but then turned back, intent on killing Ansgar first. But as the demon reached for the planeswalker, a thick bank of fog rose from Ether, and Dridelagris missed in his grab. He hesitated only a moment before reaching, with both hands, over his head. A massive, black-tinted sword appeared, and with frightening malice, he brought it thundering downward into the fog. A moment before jackalact, Imurai reached into the thick cloud, grabbed Ansgar's wrist, and pulled him away. As the blade of darkness shattered against the floor, Dridelagris dropped it and turned again to face the humans.
Ansgar Dekacrolin and Imurai-eld-Nerka quickly scurried away from one another while at the same time trying to think of something they could use to defeat their gargantuan foe. Dridelagris, however, was quicker, and with one hand grasping the phylactery around his neck, he extended the other one toward Ansgar. A sphere of pure night exploded from that hand and hammered into Ansgar, full in the chest, and sent him flying into a nearby wall. He hit with a sickening thud and slumped motionless to the ground. At the sight, Imurai-eld-Nerka roared in fury. His eyes began to burn with a deep, smoldering hatred for the demon.
The fallen Archmage found himself staring at the creature, a being of pure malice who hurt the innocent for no other reason or goal than their pain. Dridelagris was anathema to the natural order. He was not higher nor lower on the food chain, he was apart from it completely. Nothing was more repugnant to Imurai-eld-Nerka than the demon tyrant he found himself glaring at. He was the very definition of one who sought power relentlessly, only to abuse it. Finally, the Archmage's fury bubbled over, and even as the demon tried to speak, Imurai could only just hear him over the fiery, predatory beating of his own heart.
"Now it is your turn, god-king."
Imurai-eld-Nerka thought of everything that had befallen him, everything that had been taken from him in his life. He had been raised by a good Archmage to be a better one, and yet he had never been allowed to rule his beloved Arboraelis. He had been given a kingdom and the powers of a god when he arrived in Ursuth, but they had been ripped from him. And now, even Ansgar Dekacrolin, who he had just met and who had given him a new life and a deeper understanding of himself, lay broken and perhaps dead at the hands of this vile, hell-spawned demon. Imurai-eld-Nerka glared and Dridelagris and screamed, his voice tearing though the air like a spear through flesh.
"I want my vengeance, you unnatural beast!"
The moment these words left his mouth, he uttered three more, these in an ancient language long forgotten on Ursuth, and this time, the words carried the power they had lacked before. Dridelagris's mocking smile melted from his face moments before his skin melted from his bones. In moments, the words of the Aggros finished their work, and nothing was left of the tyrant beyond a small pile of dust and the chain carrying the phylactery. Imurai-eld-Nerka stood staring for several long moments as his ire slowly subsided. When they did, his thoughts turned suddenly and with deep concern for Ansgar Dekacrolin.
Imurai-eld-Nerka was no medic, and it took him several minutes to determine that, mercifully, Ansgar was still alive. Imurai breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. He could not explain why, but the safety of the other planeswalker had become very jackalortant to him in the little time they had known one another. He was grateful for everything Ansgar had done for him, and he found himself hoping he could one day return it and more. Imurai-eld-Nerka adjusted Ansgar until the injured planeswalker was sitting against the wall, he lightly brushed the few strands of black hair out of his closed eyes, and waited patiently for him to wake up.
Eventually, Ansgar Dekacrolin did just that, and although he was in a tremendous amount of pain, it seemed there was nothing broken. Once Imurai told him how he defeated Dridelagris, Ansgar climbed slowly and uncomfortably to his feet and walked over to the chain. He hesitated for a few moments before picking it up, almost afraid of what he might find. Finally, though, he scooped up the phylactery, holding it in one hand while scanning it with his mind. Imurai-eld-Nerka walked over to him as he worked.
"Is it your friend?" Imurai asked, moving close.
Ansgar was still searching, trying to recognize Rebekah's soul locked deep within the stone. For a moment he was hopeful, but it ended quickly in disappointment. The soul was not hers, just another powerful, thankful being. He hung his head.
"No," he said softly. Imurai-eld-Nerka exhaled, moved closer, and gently laid a hand on Ansgar's shoulder in sympathy. Ansgar shook his head and continued. "It's not her."
Imurai suddenly removed his hand, and Ansgar looked over at him, surprised by the sudden motion. Imurai seemed surprised as well, and he tried to cover up that surprise. "I am sorry," he stammered, then added, "about your disappointment."
Ansgar nodded. Something seemed to be bothering Imurai, but now was not the time to go into it. With a quick thought, Ansgar Dekacrolin reached into the phylactery and read the ritual that had created it, and just like the bloodrock prison than had held Imurai-eld-Nerka, he undid the vile ritual and released the soul within, allowing it to float on to wherever free souls went on this plane. He looked back at Imurai and smiled.
"I will find her eventually. But for now, you saved my life, and I made you a promise. So lead the way, and let's see this Surakoth of yours."
Imurai smiled as well, though there was a sadness to it. "Thank you, my friend." He continued to stare at the other man for a moment, then turned, took two steps, and disappeared into the æther.
Ansgar stood for a few seconds and thought about what a strange man Imurai-eld-Nerka seemed to be, but he still believed he was a good one. He looked around the shattered castle, said to himself, "I will find you eventually, Rebekah," and then disappeared into the Ether, and whatever Planes waited beyond.
Moderator Action: Infraction for Thread Necromancy
Next time, if you want to revisit a discussion that's been over for this long, let the dead thread rest in peace. Start a new thread, link the dead one in your opening post, and let new discussion grow from there.
Please, leave the necromancy to Liliana.
~kaburi
Edit: Also, saying that Elspeth should start whoring herself? That's unacceptably misogynistic. Let's not go there.
You're just saying that because the token's black.
Lord of the Rings and action...two things that shouldn't be in the same sentence. To address that KO, hey, she isn't perfect and the rhox got the jump on her. It happens. Finally, I'd rather read a writer with big ideas and bad writing than a writier with flat ideas and good writing (ala GRRM).
Anyway, I felt TPF was a great example of quality>quantity. Something terribly lacking in today's fantasy market.
Even if I do agree with you on some points, this was still a long LOOOOOONG time to revive a thread.
Warning for Necro. In the future be sure to double check the subforum guidelines.
Koth's +1 puts an end to Xenagos. Not better than BBE. In the case of BBE, its the quality of the threat on the board that makes the card you cascade into worthwhile.