On the 31/02/2617, the Wizard Ragnek Stormcrow, the First bride of Arun Sidhe and the Warlock Magnus gathered in Ragnek's tower of ice, atop the northern face of the Frostspine mountains and performed a ritual that was to change Religion across the World.

An account by Jurice Yett of the Sacred Five;-

It was a dark night devoid of stars; only the baleful eye of the Midnight Sun shone forth from its prison behind the Midnight Wall.

It was a terrible night and the World stood poised as upon a precipice of Fate, ready to fall and tumble forever into the bottomless chasm of despair.

Atop the highest plateau of the Frostspine mountains, casting its shadow over the Rival Lands below, stood the Storm Tower, home to the Herald of Hell. Here in this finger of ice growing from the mountainside like a cancer upon the earth, the Herald spewed forth his evil upon a River of Sin, plotting and conniving the downfall of all.

Mad and consumed by hate, he wandered his timeless halls, passed twisted creatures born from the substance of Nightmares. He paced those endless icy corridors and gazed deep into his bowls of blood, waiting like a spider for the Midnight Hour.

The Time had come. That very night he would commit The Blasphemy of Blasphemies and break The Unbroken Law, that which had been inscribed in the Throne of the God's since Dawn's memorial, the Death of Day.

Gathering his loyal but despicable brethren about him, the Whore of Babel and the Warlock of Treason-Gard, Stormcrow spouted such vile curses into the sky that the very clouds bulged with the weight of his words, turning red and raining blood.
Then taking up nefarious Hellbound objects he did make passes in the air, severing time and space.

The skies boiled with fire and the Midnight Sun shone fierce with the fires of Daig. Beings across the Rival lands who happened to be out, under that bloody sky shielded their eyes and felt a terrible wave of evil wash over them.

On Mount Celeste the Doom Bell rang, echoing into Eternity its Fate woven warning.
In Elandia the High Priest of Ortha awoke feeling dread in his stomach like a leaden weight.
Across Evermore, those creatures now dwelling forever in darkness, lost and forgotten remnants of what once stalked the World's Heart and lurked in shadows, stirred in their earthen lairs. The Fallen Lords themselves heard the pounding feet of a Timeless army and knew that the Sun below would soon arise.

So it was that Arun's Three bespoke that awful utterance; a word so long, so powerful and complete that it fractured the Heavens driving a wedge between the Dreaming Peaks.

And the skies opened.

And the Midnight Sun arose.

And the Rival Lands were flooded with light.

And HE came unto the World.

HE, who stood before them, complete, the weight of Sithell around him causing the Oceans to rise.

In that moment he was the ALL

In that moment the Gods of the ALL rallied and cried out in ANGER.

In that moment HE was declared Amar Roshan - "Banished Soul."

And HE bespoke his loyal Three.

"I make thee mine; you shalt be the Triumvirate. You shalt be the Three. Empowered by Daig to Destroy the Gods. Let nothing break you, let nothing divert you, until nothing remains of this Imperfect Creation !"

Jurice Yett - Scribe of the Star Lodge.
 

In Hell, the shadow moves up the wall to the dimly lit window. Below it, people wander by oblivious to its presence, bent on their everyday tormented existence's.

Once at the window it attaches itself more strongly to the stonework and leans in for a look inside.
The room is nondescript with scant furniture and dirty walls. What interests the shadow is the two beings sat face to face at a table, speaking in whispers, their spirits tinged with fear.

"I tell you Janek, we have to deliver it to the Harbour on time. If we don't, I don't think we're going to be "just" tortured."
"What'da'ya'mean?" the other, swarthy fellow rasps back.
"Well, there's worse things 'ere in Hell than just Eternal Torment, if you know what I mean."
"Nah, I don't. What can'be'worse than 'aving me nuts roasted?"
"You an I don't know much about being good, right? Well the supplier can look at ya, I mean really look at ya - deep inside. He can make you think you are good, like you've got something to lose. Imagine that - knowing what it's like to be good again but then having it taken away."
"I don't follow ya."
"No, I don't surpose you do."

Elsewhere Unas, Priest of Natchai - God of the Underworld, hears a knocking on his door.
"Who can it be at this untimely hour of the Realm?" he asks himself, pulling a black robe tightly about his bloodstained shoulders and walking the cold corridor on his flayed feet to his shrine's rear entrance.
"Who is it?"
Silence.
"Who disturbs me?"
Silence.
Shrugging, Unas turns to go, but suddenly the knocking comes again, louder than before.
"Cease this pounding !" Unas shouts. "Are you trying to wake the dead? Because we are all dead here !"
The knocking continues, unabated.
Furious, Unas begins unbolting his door. "You cannot just come knocking on my door like this. I am a Priest of Natchai. If you know what this means, I suggest you shrivel up now and flee for I will cause your bones to liquify!"
Hurling open the door, Unas is surprised to see no one there.
"What games are these?"
He has a good look around before closing the door again.
"Foolish spirits, playing foolish games. Curse them all !"
As he turns he suddenly comes up against an invisible barrier that pins him against door.
A shape moves bringing life to the darkness around him and he feels something, like a disembodied hand simultaneously moving around his insides.
"Unas, your curses mean nothing to me. I am a messenger from Natchai," the being says in Natchai's dark syrup like tongue. "You have been chosen to perform a task. You have to organize a riot in the city for 47 days from now,  focused in and around the Temple of Akilla. These infidels of Akilla must be rooted out, burned and dismembered in the streets. Do this, on this day, at the highest hour when the Fire Snake is at it's largest and you shall have Natchai's blessing upon your actions. But should you fail, know that this is your last chance at redemption."
Unas swallows hard, aware of the taste of fear in his mouth. "Praise HE who turns the Black Sun and stands in the Shadow of Heaven..."
Suddenly the darkness is still and the force around goes. But Unas laughs. He has purpose again, serving the One true God of the Underworld.

Kendrin of Akilla slowly brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. The bowl before her shone with silver light but refused to solidify into anything worthwhile. She had been squinting and leaning over the bowl for days. How she despised her Chi'tin, her Superior.

Kendrin was the younger, a child in comparison as Temera pointed out each and every day of their pitiful lives together. Not that in this City of vermin, crime, disease, blasphemy and madness anything could get any worse. But sometimes Kendrin contemplated taking a knife to her Superior's throat... just taking her by surprise one day. Temera would come in and ask something in her cold, unemotional way. "Kendrin - The buckets need filling," or "Kendrin, my robe needs repairing." "Who am I? I'm not a servant!" Kendrin would scream back within her skull. And then the knife would appear before her eyes, hovering there, just waiting for her hand and that slow, beautiful moment as the redness blossoms across Temera's high and mighty neck.

She was suddenly snapped back from her regular day dream by the bowl. The light had changed and now she could see something. This had never happened before. Kendrin felt sure of it. How long had she been there; it seemed like an Eternity but couldn't have been more than a few days, surely. Yet this had never happened. The bowl had never changed. Her scrying had never yielded anything other than a sore neck.

"Shit!" Kendrin exclaimed, peering closer.
Words drifted against her mind, rising on the steam to wash across her vision and paint pictures of elsewhere.
".... riot.... 47 days...Akilla... highest hour...."
Then the bowl dimmed and turned back to it's thick silver boredom.
Kendrin smiled to herself. Now she knew something Temera didn't. If she played this correctly, she could stuff the old wind-bag into a coffin and take possession of the Sacred Relics herself.

On a pinnacle of rock, soaring over a mile high above an ash covered plain dotted with the ruins of a once a great city, the Overlord of Daig stood towering five times the height of his six Dread Lords, his face a mask of unbreakable will.

To an onlooker, the Lords would truly inspire nightmares.... but none more so than the Overlord Ashar himself, whose very presence caused Reality to bow in fear.

Sharendayne, Lord of the Death Watch, with his pale features, gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes, carrying the writhing Staff of Flesh across his arms, his eyes black and deep as a bottomless pool.

Dren'dan'ye, Lord of Despair, with his inky black skin and darkly angular face. Under his skin crawling hundreds of spiritual worms, infesting him causing his flesh to bulge and pulsate.

Pananga, Lord of Solitude and Master of the Wolves of Blood. With his wings, elongated forehead and demonic sized chin. Yes Pananga the Demon Seed, red skinned and as firey as his ancient Demon allies.

Krisos the Blasphemer, titanic and tall. With no face, no eyes just bloody orifices, this tormented being was suspended as was his custom, upside down and impaled on a pillar of spikes.

Dienses the Destroyer, Lord of Deon and Herald of the Change, wearing the barbed armor Grissen Stor and carrying the Blade of Tokras in his scaled, half Drynn, half lizard-like hands.

Anti-kin the Judge, discreetly garbed in a plain black robe, hands folded within it and his head held high. 

Sire Vorlay of Sabbat, the fat Lord, with rolls of quivering fat hanging in folds, sat in a hovering chair equipped with food, drink and a variety of self entertainment. 

"I have called you here to Anyat Feln to alert you all to something."
Ashar's spirit  pierced each one in turn, looking beyond their aura's to the infintesimal spiritual reactions exploding deep inside their beings.
"It has come to my attention that certain factions within Daig are working with their counterparts in Elondil to overthrow me. They believe that what I intend to do is wrong and that instead, under their rule, Daig can continue quietly into the future."
"Who are these people?" Pananga cried.
Ashar's eyes silenced him in a moment. "They are known to me. I am not concerned about them. However," and now Ashar stressed the words, placing spiritual seeds into the air to gestate against his Lords and grow. "You are all in imminent danger. I have no fear for myself because I cannot be removed. But you all can. I suggest each of you is very careful over the next few weeks. I would not like to lose any of you but just in case I am calling upon your next in commands to take more active roles. I do not want any of them kept in the dark. Should something happen to one of you, I want them to be able to make a smooth transition of status."

Ashar could see a few of his Lord's were nervous. He could see they were all attempting to hide things from him, but they were transparent, open and obvious... apart from one.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Sire Vorlay whined, mopping his chest with a towel.
Ashar inclined his head. "Perhaps, but I will call on each of you seperately.
He could see them looking at one another. He could sense their fear, their mistrust and paranoia.
They knew he wasn't just warning them - but theatening them in a roundabout way. Any one of them could have an accident and Ashar could blame it on the enemy.

His words were on one level, but the meaning and repercussions of them would echo in their minds, changing and growing as the days went by.

Now he had to watch, very closely and see what would happen.

Circa 02 / 2617

The alley's were full of filth and excrement. Tahara could see the decay, the death and disease; see them as tangible discoloration's of the astral plane, swarms of bacteria and germs multiplying and feasting upon dead skin, rotten fruit and discarded sewage.

Mortal cities were so ripe and delicious. Their taste left her heady with excitement and lusting for a kill.

But not just yet. She had a mission to perform.

Her mark rounded another corner up ahead and Tahara, or Tahapenes the Misgiver as her fellow Demonic brethren knew her, continued stealthily to the end of the alley, listening to the spiritual echoes.

Suddenly there weren't any. She was loathe to use her powers as every power made a noise and effected the World in ways that other, sensitive beings could detect. As this was a surveillance only mission, she had had to keep things pretty quiet. Well, quiet for her anyway.

First she had obtained a suitable vessel. The woman had been ready to end her life after the untimely death of her new-born son. This had left her open to Tahara's spirit and made her an easy victim.

As far as bodies went, the woman's was adequate. Tahara had spent a few hours hanging around a few of the more seedy taverns, flaunting the flesh. She had even indulged a little by leading one man out the back and playing a melody of pain across his ripped out spine.

Oh the ecstasy of the human form; of feeling, warmth and fresh blood.

It had been with some annoyance that she had eventually torn herself away and focused on the mission.

Now for some reason, her Mark had pulled a disappearing trick. She had no choice now, she had to use a Power.
Drawing upon her inner energies, she regurgitated some astral plasm from her mouth into her hand and called forth her servant.

Materializing nearby, a large black hairless rat came slithering to her side. She smeared the plasm across it's nose and whispered, "Find him my sweet." Then the rat was gone, bounding into the darkness. Any larger display of power would definitely give the game away. Now she just had to wait.

Two hundred yards away, on top of a high tiled roof, squatted two red skinned identical beings.
"She's lost contact," one said to the other, through thin, bloodless lips.
"Did it look deliberate? I got distracted by that couple two houses left talking about murdering the mother-in-law."
Both beings chuckled slightly, if it could be called a chuckle; more like the rattle of a salt shaker.
"She was distracted. She's still lit up after that kill. Her umbra is a dead give away."
"Well, that makes her stupid and a second class spy, but not guilty of collusion. We need more proof than that. Where's the Celestial gone?"
"I heard him Chime out. It was a short distance hop so he can't be far."
"Let's move in and get a closer look. I want to be able to react fast when the moment comes."
"We're not meant to "react", just gather information and report back to Dren'dan'ye."
"But we can't report anything back if we just sit here, can we?"
The other being had to shrug at that. Within seconds, both had dissipated into a blood red mist and begun drifting across the rooftops.

Far away, in another city high in Elondil, under a pleasant moon and sky full of stars, sat four Celestials. With a blanket of food and wine laid out between them, they laughed and enjoyed the view.

For some time now however, their conversation had threatened to actually turn serious.
One, dressed in formal court dress with lace and a high collar stroked his moustache, smiling at his companions with something akin to mischief in his eyes.

"Hilarious D'Kemp! I would have loved to have been there, but alas that minor earthquake down in Beldorn caused one large headache."
D'Kemp, garbed in a plain white robe nodded, accepting the apology. "No need my friend, I can recall the Echo if you like?"
"Please do, at your leisure. But not just now as I've had a thought."
The Lady to D'Kemp's left giggled. "On no, Kellik has had a thought. Don't tell me, it's about shades of Grass. I've put in a petition for another hundred and one shades but am still waiting for a result."
"It'll take forever," another Lady answered, reaching for a very small cake. "I wanted to effect a change to rabbit stew but you wouldn't believe how long it took for an answer."
Kellik continued stroking his moustache. "No, my thought is a trifle darker."
The other four Celestials either groaned or sighed.
D'Kemp waved his hand nonchalantly. "Why do you insist on spoiling the mood Kellik. Honestly, can't you banish these dark thoughts of yours. It's quite easy you know."
"I did the other day," Lady Ether added. "I can't even remember what it was about."
Kellik merely nodded and smiled. "No, these are thoughts we shouldn't banish. I recently learned that Caballim left the Hall of Temporal Momentum. As you well know, he and his followers have been in there for an Eternity."
"What does that mean?" Lady Ether asked.
"Let's not concern ourselves about it. If there is something amiss, how will it effect us?" D'Kemp laughed, reaching for a slice of cheese. "The Arch Angels will deal with it - as usual." 
Kellik - "Perhaps my friend. But that isn't all. I overheard two Purates of Ortha speaking about the War against the "Evils". Not just their normal chit-chat, but talk of the Overture."
"Preposterous!" D'Kemp exclaimed. "It's just talk. Hot-headed Ortha talk. They're always coming up with some plan or other to defeat Ortha's enemies once and for all."
Lady Ether raised a hand. "Actually, something a little odd happened to me the other day. I was walking in the Fields, blissfully unaware of anything other than the colour of my shoes, when suddenly three Immortals with neutral attunement walked right by me and trod on the most perfect flowers. I asked one, "Where dost thou go in such a hurry? And why is thy aura so attuned?" He turned to me and said the strangest thing; "None of your business." I was so shocked I just slipped back into my reverie and let the whole thing slip from my mind."
Lady Cherrine absently yawned and waved her hand, generating festoons of brightly coloured flowers. "This is so boring. Let's talk about the latest play Retic's working on; I believe it's entitled - "The Rocking Chair."
The other Celestials agreed and all talk of things dark and mysterious vanished from their minds... all minds other than Kellik's who was making a note to stop by the Fields on his way home.

TO THE BELOVED BROTHER, SEBALIUS, ELAN, ELANDIA. Dated 17/07/2615.

TREDAL SENDS GREETING. 

THE Apocalypse of  Orthank, in which Saint Titandamas was pleased to reveal by words and figures the wars and intestine tumults of the Church of Ortha, seem to me, brother Sebalius, to be divided into several sections. 

In the first of these, after a copious preface to strengthen the faith of the weak, and a description of the sufferings of Ortha at the hands of Orin during the Prelude of Days and of the glories which followed with Orin's ultimate defeat. He sees one like unto the Son of Orthank clothed with the Church of Ortha, Who, after He has related what has happened, or is about to happen, in the Seven Churches of  the Seven Swords in particular, recounts the general conflicts and victories of the whole Pantheon. And here, designedly, in the sixth place He has foretold that the wayward savages are to be made subject to the Church of Ortha, and that there is to be a trial of the World at large, and that Abbadon Himself will come quickly; and He places in the seventh circle the lukewarm unborn Serpant of Time. For "when the Son of  the King cometh, will He," dost thou think, "find the Faith in the chasms of the earth?" [B.O.Ortha 21.8] 

Then in the second section, after that, the four living creatures who make up the Throne of Gods, and the twenty-four elders who stand as pillers around it, have been described,  on the opening of the seven Astral seals of the closed book, unfold the future conflicts and triumphs of the Church of Ortha. And here, according to the custom of this book, he preserves the order unto the sixth number in the series; and then he passes by the seventh, recapitulates, and concludes the two narrations with the seventh.  But the recapitulation is also itself to be understood according to its place, for sometimes he recapitulates from the commencement of suffering, sometimes from the middle period, and sometimes with a view to speak of the last affliction only, or a short time before. But this he observes as a fixed point, to recapitulate after the sixth.

Next, in the third section, under the likeness of Seven Angels sounding with a Trumpet of Angels and God Bell, he describes the various events of the Church of Ortha and the consequences of its fall.

In the fourth, under the figure of a woman of dark ilk bringing forth, and a dragon persecuting her, he reveals the toils and victories of the same Church of the All Father, and assigns to both combatants their due rewards.  And here the words and actions of Seven angels are also recorded, but not in the same manner as above. So in mystic wisdom he almost always retains this number, for neither in his gospel nor his epistles is the same Immortal flesh accustomed to say anything with remissness and brevity. 

Then, in the fifth section, by seven angels HE has overspread the earth with the seven last plagues. And in this way heralds the Flood.

In the sixth, HE has manifested the condemnation of the great whore, that is, of the ungodly city of frozen sin.

In the seventh, he has shewn the Ornament of the World, the holy walls have fallen and the Sun below arisen.

I have also thought that the seven rules of Chonius [34. c. 1190], a man of the most learning among those of his sect , should be briefly enumerated, inasmuch as those who are desirous to learn, receive great assistance from them for understanding the Scriptures. The first of these is concerning the All Father and His body of five, when there is a transition from the Head to the body, or from the body to the Head, and yet no recession from one and the same person. For one person speaks, saying, "He set a chaplet upon me, as a bridegroom, and adorned me with an ornament as a bride" ; and yet, certainly, it must be understood how much of this belongs to the Head, how much to the body; that is, how much to Ortha, how much to the Church of the Father. 

The second is concerning the threefold body of He who pretends, or rather, concerning the true and simulated body of the Lord of Nightmares, as St. Crusac was better pleased that it should be termed. So the Church of Ortha says “I am dark and comely, as the tents of Kedrak, and as the curtains of Solomon" [Song of Solomon 1.5];  for she does not say, I was dark and am comely, but she has said that she is both, because of the fellowship in sacraments, and the commingling for a time of the good and bad fish within one net, seeing that the tents of Kedrak belong to Evermore, "for that he shall not be heir with the son of the free woman” [Father Tyetus. 4.20]. 

The third is concerning the promises and the Law, which may otherwise be expressed as concerning the spirit and the letter, or concerning grace and the Commandment of Elondil.  This appears to St. Crusac to be itself a great question, rather than a rule to be applied to the solution of questions.  For it was through failing to understand this that the Esians either began, or increased their heresy. 

The fourth is concerning species and genus.  For species is a part, but genus the whole of which it is a part, as each state is a part of the whole province, and each province a part of the whole world.  These terms, accordingly, have come to the knowledge of persons in general, so that even the unlearned understand what is enjoined in any royal command. This takes place also in respect of men, as the things which are said of Solomon are out of proportion to him; and it is only when they are referred to The Father and the Church of Ortha, of which He is part, that they become clear. Yet the species is not always exceeded, for such things are often said as more evidently agree with it also, or perhaps with it alone.  But when there is a transition from the species to the genus, as if Scripture were still speaking of the species, there the attention of the reader ought to be on the watch. 

He lays down a fifth rule, which he names concerning times, and it may, as appears to me, also be called concerning numbers.  This he states to be of force, even in the case of legitimate numbers, by the figure synecdoche. For the figure synecdoche is either to infer the whole from a part, or a part from the whole.  And by this manner of speaking is the question of the resurrection of Orin also solved.  For unless the last part of the day on which He fought and vanished is taken for the whole day, that is, with the addition of the past night too, and unless the night in the latter part of which the Cup of Dawn was drank again is taken for a whole day, that is, with the addition of the second dawn, there cannot be the three days and three nights, in which the Father of All  foretold that He was in the heart of the earth seeking Wisdom [Tyetus. 12:40].  Now by legitimate numbers he means those which the divine Scripture more eminently commends, as the seventh, or tenth, or twelfth; by which, for the most part, either the whole course of time, or the perfection of anything is designated, as, "seven times in a day I sing praise unto Thee,"  [Ohm. 98 (AV 19): 144)]  is nothing else than, "His praise was ever in my mouth" [Ohm. 33:2 (AV 34:1)]  And they are of the same value also when they are multiplied either by ten, as seventy and seven hundred, in which case, the seven years of Pesh'alu'tat may be taken spiritually for all the time during which the Church of Ortha is among aliens; or by themselves, as ten by ten are a hundred, and twelve by twelve are a hundred and forty-four, by which number the whole body of the saints is denoted in the Apocalypse. 

The sixth rule Titandamas calls recapitulation.  For some things are stated in the Scriptures as if they follow in the order of Time, or are related in the succession of events, when, indeed, the narration is tacitly recalled to what has been omitted.  As it is said in Ortha's Treatise of Homelands, "These are the sons of Orthank, in their tribes and their tongues.  By these are the isles of the nations upon Har overspread” [TOH. 10:32; 9:19] and immediately, "But the whole land was of one lip, and of' the same speech" [TOH. 11.1] So it seems to be stated, as if at the very time when they were dispersed, they all had one language, when rather, by a recapitulation, he was secretly adding in what manner the tongues were divided. 

His seventh rule is, concerning the Overlord and his body.  For sometimes that is stated in respect of the Overlord which cannot be recognised in himself, but only in his body; as Ortha saith, among other things, to the blessed Archangels, in exposing the deceit and power of this Draconian enemy, "Will he make many prayers to thee, or will he speak soft things to thee?” [Ohm 44:3]. And it is not the Overlord himself who is anywhere read of as repentant, but his body, which, when condemned at the last, will say, “I am undone, the fire's burn no more in Heart." [Ohm. 15.11]. 

So then, if any one will observe carefully, he will find these rules to prevail in all the canonical Scriptures, and especially in the prophetical parts, as well as in the Apocalypse, that is, the Revelation of St. Crusac, which the same Titandamas both understood with a lively apprehension, and expounded with truthfulness. For here he laments the persecutions which they endured from the religious Emperor Sobin, as heretics, when their churches, and followers, and houses, and possessions were given up into the hands of the Ortha, and their priests were driven into exile; and he calls these things martyrdoms, and boasts that they were foretold in the same Apocalypse.

Now we have followed these words and understood their meaning. 

I bid thee farewell, in Ortha's grace, most beloved brother, and desire that thou mayest deign to be ever mindful of thy faithful Tredal.
 

Stuck high above the Midnight Wall, the Red Sun blazes at full power, banishing the Dream World from the Northlands. No one can sleep, no one can die and the souls of the dead are trapped in dead flesh.

It is Hell on Earth and all part of Ashar's plan.

When Harmony arrives at Ragnek's tower she offers this explaination. "It's a show of strength. My father is showing what he can do and forcing the issue to a higher level. He's got everyone's attention now. He's said; "Hey, look at this - I'm a God, I'm in the World, I've done what no one else can and this is a taste of what will happen to you if you don't sit up and listen. Take a good long look because I'm deadly serious!"

When Harmony says this, Ragnek nods, but feels suddenly under more pressure than normal.
"The Lands are going to be in turmoil!" Syrene exclaims. "Everyone just woke up from a Nightmare; how are we going to explain that?"
Syrene gets on the Blood Bowl to communicate with Madisra and Erohna. It's true - Everywhere in the North seems the same with people resting on the verge of panic.
Madisra is the first to offer words to the people. Her words prove evocative and aid Ragnek in finding his own.

Standing before some of the people of Darkmoon she says - "This is the Time of Testing. Arun's Eye of Truth is wide open now and gazing deep inside each of your souls. If you are found wanting or unfaithful in any way, you will be marked. Until these lands are purified of the Old ways, the Eye will remain and Daig will have you!"

Ragnek presses Sidhe as he considers communication to be even more vital now. Sidhe is very reluctant to go to the cave and perform her Masking Ritual there, but Ragnek pushes the issue and she eventually concedes - she feels that with the Rising of the Midnight Sun, things have stepped up to a higher level; one that goes beyond the need for her ritual.

"We need to get these protections in place as quickly as possible," Ragnek states. "Now more so than ever."

"Look, I don't know what's going on here, but this is some shit!" Red continues. "Something happened to me earlier. I felt it, like Ashar coming to me in my dream. He told me things but I can't remember what. Now how friggin weird is that! What's this mean? This is wrong somehow. This is all wrong. Maybe we've all made a mistake!"

Syrene suddenly cuts in on Red's outburst. "You're frightened. What did you expect would happen? It's not like any of this hasn't been explained to you. We all knew things like this would happen so your reaction is pointless. Don't go blaming Ragnek for something you were willing to condone just so long as it never happened."

Speechless Red turns and leaves. "Fine, you stick with your new friends Ragnek."
 
 

The pounding was loud, like a mountain threatening to fall. Saberhagen paused from his packing and stood for a moment, staring at the doors - a moment too late.

Before he could duck or dive for cover the immense doors to the Temple of Arun cracked and burned with white light. Splintering into the air and blasting Saberhagen across the hall he caught himself wondering about Barnaby; "I bet that little shit isn't in this sort of trouble!"

As the smoke cleared, Saberhagen struggled to rise, wiping fresh blood from his face and pushing aside pieces of Arun's broken altar. Before he was fully upright, something invisible gripped him and threw him against the rear wall of the hall. Pinned, helpless and in a great deal of discomfort, he squinted into the light and prepared for the worst.

"Arun - help me."
"YOUR GOD HAS BEEN BANISHED. HE NO LONGER HOLDS A POSITION IN HEAVEN AND THAT MEANS WE NO LONGER HAVE TO SUFFER YOUR PRESENCE."
"A little upset are we? My God has a clarity of vision that has not been seen in this World since the Time of Orion. I believe in that vision..."
Armored Immortals materialised in the light, with golden glowing faces and hands; the Menekka - Emonra's bully boys.
"Arun, who knows the Heart of the World, the time has come, you said it would. I your servant Saberhagen am prepared."
"YOU ARE HEREBY CONDEMNED TO VACANCY - YOUR SOUL WILL BE PURIFIED AND YOUR MIND CLEANSED. YOU WILL LIVE OUT THE REST OF ETERNITY WONDERING IN ABSOLUTE PEACE AND SERENITY, DEVOID OF IDENTITY OR CREATIVE THOUGHT. IF I HAD MY WAY YOU WOULD BE THROWN INTO OBLIVION."
"I am not yours to condemn!"
Suddenly Saberhagen's skin began to change. A glow around his chest revealing his beating heart within; beating with a fierce fire red light.
The Menekka looked back into the light, back at their Lord, but within moments the reaction in Saberhagen had spread to cover his whole body. With a crash, the Ambassador of Daig fell to the ground.

One of the Menekka prodded the crystalline shape. "He is dead my Lord, his soul preserved within this substance. Shall I shatter it?"
"IT IS DRAGON HEART. LEAVE IT THERE. THE REACTION IS DORMANT NOW BUT REQUIRES FURTHER ANALYSIS. PULL THIS ABOMINATION DOWN, STONE BY STONE. BRING IN CLERICS. PURIFY IT WITH LIGHT, BURN IT WITH FIRE. ERASE IT."
"Yes Lord," the Menekka replied in unison, taking their weapons to the walls, cracking the stone and blasting holes.

Father Edrane adjusted his ceremonial robe and smoothed his mantle. It was a fine Gods Day, the sun was shining bright and the trees outside were beginning to show the first signs of spring. He could still smell the fresh grass on his hands after taking his normal morning walk and was smiling from genuine happiness at his fortunes.

He took a few moments to survey those who had come today, like every Gods Day, to listen to his sermon. They were all good people, fine upstanding faithful men and women; he was very fortunate to have been given Readington as his parish.

Today he was talking about Small things, the idea that simple, small things are often overlooked. The smallest word or deed can lead to tremendous good and well being.

So far it had been going remarkably well.
He was about to open his mouth again when he noticed her.
Farah O'Han, only surviving daughter of Reed and Jenice, standing stark naked at the doors to his church with bloodied hands, a burning torch and some sort of wet sheen upon her skin catching the sun.
He gulped and must have stared as everyone began turning around, gasping in shock at Farah's bold entrance.

As Edrane watched, the young woman sauntered her way down the aisle, smiling sweetly at the stunned parishioners. Some feinted at her audacity whilst others muttered and cried out in anger.

Until she stood before his podium, her perfect body smeared in oil, her bright green eyes shining with life and passion.
Edrane's heart beat like a drum in his throat. He couldn't swallow, he couldn't move. He could just stare.

"Last night, Arun, my Lord and Master, came into the World," she said, addressing the town. "Unless you wake up to HIS truth, you will all burn in Hell. In his embrace, I am no longer afraid !" With that, Edrane could only watch in horror as the girl he loved, had drunkenly forced, touched the torch to her skin and burst into flame.

She didn't scream. She didn't fall. Instead, as the flesh began to flake and curl away from her bones, she stumbled back and forth, touching tapestries, pews aghast onlookers.

On Gods day in third month of 2617, the Church of Saint Kaylem in Readington, Beldorn, burned to the ground killing 17 people including Father Edrane. May Ortha have mercy on their souls.

The Summons had been delivered by the King's own messenger, in a signed sealed scroll bearing the House of Leatus at its head. Such a thing was extremely rare and in all of Corbin's years within the Knighthood, he had never seen or heard of anyone receiving one.

Now, after a three day ride to the Capital, an attack by bandits and the apprehension of a murderer along the way, Corbin stood before the Doors of Remembrance, ready to enter and stand before the King of Lanth himself.

It seemed strange that no one was here to meet him and even stranger that no guards stood at doors. But Corbin was a man who didn't ask questions. In his ten years within the Knighthood he had proven himself someone to be counted on; a man of decisive action, he had never balked at taking charge, making difficult choices and doing whatever was required.

In fact it was this trait, the ability to act without conscience or morality in the name of God that had brought so much trouble down on him. Three times now he had stood before the Court of Martyrs and been forced to defend himself against charges of brutality, excessive force and destruction of property. This notoriety had caused his peers to nick-name him The Peace-Keeper, as some kind of joke. He didn't find it funny.

He knew his reputation, yet here he was, ready to meet the King. He couldn't help but be suspicious.

The doors opened and a plate armoured knight gestured for him to enter. He did, his helmet undoffed under his arm and sword worn peace-time style at his side.

Once inside he took a good look around. The room was sumptuously decorated with ostentatious furniture crammed into every nook and cranny. A fireplace blazed, illuminating a large and prominently displayed set of tribal masks - no doubt from Kethria and on a circular table he noticed a splendid collection of figurines depicting the Gods and Goddesses of various pantheons.

There were three people in the room. The first he recognized as Bleyn, the King's advisor and Major General of the People's Army. The second man he recognized as King Leatus himself, dressed in a matching green tunic and trews, beaded with tiny pieces of jade and sewn in emeralds.

The third man was a stranger and stood a little way apart from the others. He was ancient but full of energy with eyes betraying a hidden youth. Unable to guess the man's age, Corbin turned his attention solely to his King and knelt, head bowed.

"Rise Corbin," Leatus commanded. "I trust your journey was kept a secret and proved uneventful."
"Quite sire, though I did have to turn in a few brigands along the way. I kept my identity a secret though."
"Good. Bleyn you know already but this man here is Methos. He has been advising us on a few matters of internal security and has proposed something quite interesting."
It was Bleyn's turn to speak. "As you may be aware, we've been having problems recently with the Covens of Arun. They've been popping up everywhere, in the cities, in the country, in the sewers. Last week we even found two nobles of the court practising Witchcraft in Arun's name by the Gods. You can understand the repercussions if that little fact got out."
Corbin nodded.
"Well," Bleyn continued, "These Covens have stepped up their campaign it seems. Two weeks ago Lord Sturk of Blaggonsly and his wife were turned to stone. A month before that a Witch was seen leaving this very palace. Hours later all of the King's dogs went mad and had to be killed. These attacks are an affront to our way of life. They are nothing less than an attack, a declaration of war from the God of Mischief and lies. They must be stopped, at all costs."
Again, Corbin nodded. He had an inkling where this was leading.
The King cleared his throat. "You're a good man Corbin. We have a job for you. I've read your reports. You are just the man for this job. I want you to hunt these Witches down and take this war directly to their source. I want you to form a Knight Elite for this purpose and this purpose alone. Find out what they are planning. Do whatever it takes."
"It shall be done sire," Corbin said with feeling.
"... but you will need help," Bleyn added. "And that's where Methos comes in."
Corbin looked at the stranger and the stranger stared strangely back, producing a golden plate gauntlet from beneath his robe. "This," Methos began, in a soft voice, "is the Armour of Geis or Geas. It is a very powerful enchanted object that can be both a weapon and a defence against your enemies. Once it is given a purpose, it follows that purpose to the end of its existence or until the purpose is fulfilled. If you take it, you will be both aided and driven by it."
Corbin took a good long look at the Gauntlet. "I accept it."
"Good," said Leatus. "Take these documents. They empower you and give you full access and titles over the Knights and Military. Bleyn here will brief you on known witches and their whereabouts later, but for now, may God go with you."
 

To be, or not to be
Harmony gives Ragnek an insight into her seemingly unlimited power. "It's like this, the World knows I exist but can't figure out how I exist. My father would say that I fell through a loophole of Creation and am just exploiting the "what ifs" that float "between" realities but I see it like this. As long as I don't do too much, the World turns a blind eye to my exploits. My power comes from the World's inability to classify me. As nothing like me has ever existed before, it just lets me get on with things. Nothing can sense me because in the World's mind, I'm not really here. But obviously I am, therefore the quandary."
"So Mythisin was right," Ragnek grins, "You don't really exist."

Speedy Spells?
While Ragnek is in Daig, Syrene comments about the apparent time distortion between the two of them. As Ragnek seems to experience no different, she says - "I feel it at my end. After a little while I get a really bad headache, probably because my mind is having to speed up to match yours." At the same time, Ragnek and his Wife come to realise the same startling possibility; "I wonder, if one of us is in Daig and the other in the Real World, will that person be able to speed their mind up and cast spells more quickly? Twenty one time's faster?"
 

Master of the Damned
Ragnek learns a little more about his power over the Damned of Daig. After leaving Rabdag's Dominar, he wishes he hadn't sent Simone away. He decides to try and summon her using the "Speak the name three times," system. A flaming circle appears on the ground and Simone appears, a little out of sorts and confused. It is evident that she was plucked from wherever she was completely by surprise. In comment to Ragnek's raised eyebrow, she says - "You are Master of the Damned, both here and in the Mortal Realm."

The Flute of the Damned
Created by Ashar and given to Ragnek, this ivory flute imprisons up to 100 formally damned souls. A very powerful artifact in its own right, the Flute, when played, can release any number of souls back to Daig. The Souls penetrate the Dream Realms creating a portal of varying size through which Ragnek or others can travel.

Confused over how to make a Portal whilst already in Daig, Ragnek tries using the Flute. After playing the customary Death March, a soul streaks out of the Flute and materialises into a naked, 62 year old woman called Karlish. Ragnek just shrugs, plays the flute's tune backwards and Karlish vanishes.

Quick stop Sithell
Ashar's handshake of Ultimate doom
Ashar seems very serious and approaches Ragnek, taking the Wizard's hand. "If everything goes to plan, this will be just the opening curtain, the prelude of things to come, the first verse in our song. Keep the Dagger (Ion) safe; either on you or somewhere where others cannot reach it. It must not fall into enemy hands. Do this for me."
Ragnek nods.

* Note - As Ashar takes Ragnek's hand (the first time the two men have touched) Ashar uses his tremendous spiritual powers to pull a fast one on Ragnek's aura. Virtually undetectable, Ashar connects Ragnek via a tri-astral-link to a remotely triggered weave of spiritual wards. At Ashar's command, the weave will unravel and Ragnek will suddenly receive the following protections and enchancements ;-

Wards of ;-
Ward vs Counter-Force - Meta-astral Shield - Level 18 - Immunity up to 75 Pts of damage, 20 POW.
Ward vs Astral Lock - Level 18 - via Ashar's Ever shifting Inter-phasic Morph-ward.
Ward vs Demonic Discord - Level 18 - 25' radius.
Ward vs Celestial Intervention - Level 18 - 25' radius.
Ward vs Astral Tamper - Ashar's Ward of Theoretical Astral Displacement (T.A.D) - Level 18 - Any spell, ability / targeted attack is displaced randomly up to thirty feet away.

Beyond the Midnight Veil
Urged by Ashar to hide the Dagger of Life - Ion, Ragnek travels to the Midnight Wall and presents his Midnight Staff as a key to the mystic veil. The veil stirs, recognising the Spirit of Midnight within the wood and allows Ragnek to pass through its darkness into the Land beyond.

Ragnek stands in a wasteland of ice and snow. Overhead the sky hangs heavy with bloated blood stained clouds whilst far away in the North, a Red Sun blazes forth from the very top of an impossibly high tower. Even from fifty miles away, Ragnek gets an idea of the structure's size and stands in wonder.

But it is the all pervading silence of the soul that Midnight does best. Ragnek stands in utter oblivion, unable to sense his spirit or grasp his reason. It is as if all sense of purpose and will has suddenly ceased to be. The silence is absolute, defying Time all other Laws of Creation.

It is the loneliest, emptiest place in the World.

Perfect for the Graveyard of the Titans.

As Ragnek glances slowly around, standing on the brink of one of many an icy precipice, he spies collossal statues in the distance; each one of Godlike proportions, rising out of the ice like frozen Titans.

He also notices a small cabin nearby and decides to investigate - but first he hides the dagger under a stone (knowing that nothing can locate it, especially in this place)

The Cabin of the Three
Ragnek enters the cabin and sees three hooded cloaks hanging up by the door. One black, one white and one grey. He suddenly realises that this is the cabin of the "3" - those witches who gave him such a nice welcome before ; - see link.

Jedel - Demon of Misguidence
Ragnek goes in search of Mengale elves in Daig. As Ashar has commented that hundreds dwell in Daig, Ragnek finds the prospect of a hundred sorcerors quite appealing. However when he asks his new guide Simone to find some for him, she has to pray to the Source first.

Guided by the Source of all Evil, Simone Portal's Ragnek and herself to a vast, broken and decaying hall. A gaping hole in the roof lets snow drift down onto a table and twelve perfectly still, seemingly frozen figures sat around it. This is the Order of Creos, an ancient Mengale order dedicated to the Preservation of Pure Thought. Damned in Daig to be trapped forever in a pointless, futile Mental argument, the Order are virtually unaware of Ragnek's arrival. Annoyed at being ignored the Wizard starts prodding Verner, one of the Order's oldest members.

Verner sighs and in a World weary voice says "Begone human, we have no time for you."

After a few more attempts Ragnek gives up and is about to leave, when suddenly another magical doorway opens and a lean, clean shaven demon steps through.

"Greetings, let me introduce myself. I am called Jedel and I am your Demon of Fortune. Let me present my credentials."
Ragnek is astounded when the Demon hands him a very lengthy scroll detailing the last 997 years of its existence. It also states at the very top that he is officially a Demon of "Misfortune," which Ragnek finds a trifle amusing. "Of course for you Great Master, I can be much more. I guide through Daig perhaps, far more adept than this mere Mortal." Jedel flicks his fingers at Simone in disdain. 

In the Court of Abaddon
Returning suddenly in Ragnek's tower, Harmony insists that Ragnek use the soul cord (which she hands him). He and Syrene are both concerned by Ashar's sudden lack of communication, despite repeated attempts to hail him. Harmony however seems alusive, merely saying "Everything is fine, just go to him now."
For a moment Ragnek doesn't trust Harmony's intentions so he tries sensing something amiss with her. However it is obvious that Harmony cannot be sensed in anyway, so he gives up and allows himself to be pulled along Olahdan's Soulcord to an unknown destination.
 

The Flame
Temulta - A Rhino demon with many horns charges Ragnek, ready to rip the Wizard limb from limb.

Ragnek has begun to unleash the Hell Fire Knight's. If he isn't careful, the Demon Lords will consider him as a major player in the run for new Overlord - well, actually, many of them already do. After all Ragnek was Ashar's Herald and personal confidante. You can't just let Ragnek have the run of Hell as he's bound to be plotting revenge for what was done to his former master.