What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

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Maximillion (DELETED 6550)
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What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

Post by Maximillion (DELETED 6550) »

In of a place far beyond the known worlds is the city of Joerfëng, often thought to be of a lost and forgotten corner of Hell. It is lit by countless dimmed lights, and the broken, shattered dreams of her people. Many are the myths and legends that shroud this forbidding and forbidden place and many are the strange and wonderful magical artifacts and arcane workings that have been hidden away here.

Strange and diverse also are the flora and fauna that inhabit the wilderness around the city, both of which are apt to kill without of a moment’s notice. They are dangerous and deadly and have inhabited the city of Joerfëng almost since the very beginning. And each breed of plant has of a magical artifact connected with it.

Strange also, are those who dwell here. Some by choice, others by chance, fate or destiny. Two are considered to be the strangest and most enigmatic of all.

Alexis Haeshoru, with her small, seedy shop, and Hans Shroèdên, Scholar and Scholar. And then there is Maximillion , traveler, warrior, Vampire and Scholar, who does not live there, but frequents it often, generally in search of arcane power items or to partake of mischief and mayhem. It is with Maximillion and Alexis Haeshoru, in her Shop of Wonders that this story begins.



Within the small Shop of Wonders, Maximillion offered the finger bone of of a zombie, carefully sealed within an ancient jar. Alexis Haeshoru examined it carefully. “All right then. For that I'll answer one question.”

Maximillion considered. "Where is of a map to the next item I will need in order to bribe you to tell me how to attain all in regards to the artifacts?"

“There is no map, silly one.”

“The map can be in its proverbial or literal capacity, so long as it provides the blueprints (again, proverbial or literal) to finding all in regards to the Artifacts.”

Alexis Haeshoru whipped out of a mirror and held it up in front of him. “That is your map then. Give me your heart, your mind, your body and your Spirit Essence and all that each holds within it, so that I possess you within this most broad, literal and absolute sense in regards to the word and I will tell you.”

Maximillion gave her of a shrewd grin. “We can't have that, can we? There would be no point in pursuing power if I was to instantly relinquish it within this end. I've already sold my proverbial Spirit Essence for power. Why should I sell the literal? My body, you can make use of on occasion. My mind, you can make occasional use of, but only with my consent. My Spirit Essence is yours to make use of on occasion, but only so long as I am in control of it. You do not know how to work this mind, this heart, this body as I do. the things you could do in it are easily dwarfed by what I can do. It's of a small loss to accept it with the wee condition that it be on my terms.”

Alexis Haeshoru stared back at him with of a flat, uncompromising stare. “You'll only have the answer on my terms. If I own you I'll tell you.”

Maximillion laughed. “And what would you do with me if you owned me? Try as you might, you cannot wield me. If you were to try, the power would be yanked out of your grasp by the Powers That Be. You don't think I wield this kind of power without some kind of restriction, do you? This proverbial collar around my neck is the price I pay for the power I wield.

“Even if I wanted to hand it over to you -- and that offer is extremely tempting -- the PTB wouldn't allow it. But I can grant you access to any number of powerful entities. Necromantic Wolves, Vampires, Fae, and artifacts that wield of a power neither Arcane nor Spiritual. Artifacts that might even bring an Elder down. Artifacts that, to be quite blunt, I should not even be telling you about.

“But within this end, what is the purpose? What will be done with these assets once you are dead and gone? For although we may be Eternal, the Almighty has every bit of say over when Our Time comes, whether it be by annihilating the universe, or some more subtle means.”

“You have my answer,” Alexis Haeshoru replied.

“What is it you truly want, that you can benefit from? Tell me what you stand to gain by wielding the power of Bloody Black.”

Alexis Haeshoru shrugged. “For the right price I can tell you where the Fang of Fate resides.”

“Without control of my body, I cannot guarantee being able to leave this room, let alone going after the Artifact. Is one Spirit Essence not of same value as another?” Maximillion asked.

“You asked, I answered. Transaction complete.”

Maximillion set the jar down on the counter next to Alexis Haeshoru then smiles. “What shall we wager within this Casino next? I don't have of a car, so I can't give you the Title in exchange for some poker chips.” He laughed.

Alexis Haeshoru just glared at him.

"Oi, scary, scary,” Maximillion replies, taking on of a slightly sheepish look. "You know, you keep doing that, the expression might freeze. We don't want that now, do we? Anyhoo, you're the one person in regards to the five regulars within this city of Joerfëng who isn't very forthcoming. Are your powers similarly regulated as mine are? It would seem you need of a sacrifice of some sort to cook up your rituals. Although I don't know that the answers be equivalent to the sacrifice. Is your power not akin to Alchemy? Equivalent Exchange. Where does the excess go, or do the Powers That Be charge tax?"

Despite the mingled mirth and sarcasm within this question, it was clear Maximillion genuinely wanted the answer.

"My power is not akin to anything you know or understand and I make my own rules." For of a brief moment instead of seeing her as the short, wrinkled, stooped crone, endlessly knitting away, Maximillion saw her as tall, young, beautiful, her fingers shaping skeins and cords of magic. Then it faded.

"Compared to me you are of a drop of water, while I am every river, lake, stream, pond, puddle and ocean on every world that has ever existed."

"I understand that my might, while titanic, is far from the greatest. But I have downed Demigods with more than half of my vitality and health left at my disposal to deal with the underlings. If you possess enough power to dwarf my own, then perhaps..." He trailed off, giving Alexis Haeshoru of a hungry look. "Perhaps it is something I, myself, should wield."

Alexis Haeshoru cackled with evil-sounding mirth. "I suggest you don't even try, sonny. Trust me, you wouldn't like the results."
* * *
"I wonder, though...are you Light, or are you Dark in nature?" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Lichtschneider, Sword of Holy Light. Although he made no motion to strike her, he laid it down in front of her. the weapon had within it infused the Holy Power in regards to the Almighty. Although it was of a useful weapon, he could not bring out its potential because he still had Darkness within him. If she was Dark Aligned, she would not even be able to touch it. If she was aligned with the forces of Light, she could do so with ease. Sadly, there were no loopholes to this. He'd spent centuries trying to find one, with the collective efforts of many in regards to the greats. Even Xarnesius couldn't find of a loophole, and he'd been the one who'd aided in forging it.

With an evil grin Alexis Haeshoru reached down and lifted the sword, tossing it from hand to hand as though it weighed no more than of a feather. "Pretty," she said sarcastically. "Which is exactly what I told Xarnesius."

Maximillion quirked of a brow. So. That was one reason to respect this woman. Had she been of of a Dark alignment, he would've pitted his life to undo her. But no, this was something else. She would sense him relaxing of a bit. With of a grin, he gestured and accepted the sword back. He put it beneath the folds of his cloak, then drew out of a crimson orb. "These Orbs serve as reservoirs for only the most powerful Demons or Vampires. Vampires become more in regards to their True Form with time and blood consumption. What we see around us today is nothing compared to any in regards to the Spirit Essences I have Sealed within one in regards to their containers. I will offer you one now if you give me what I want. And the question I ask will not be said aloud. But your powers delve deep enough to answer the question that lies closest to my heart, and with the terms and conditions outlined therein. You have leave to scry my form just enough to get your question, the terms in regards to the Contract, and to answer it."

And maybe, he thought to himself, she might do me the freebie of explaining why Xarnesius would give me of a weapon I cannot wield, at least not to it's full potential.

Alexis Haeshoru suddenly looked of a great deal more serious than she had before. "There is no actual answer to your question," she told him. "You can try and beat your sword into of a plow share, but within this end, it won't work. You are what you are and because of that others will always want what you have."

She was silent for several long moments, as she continued with her endless knitting. "Perhaps if you found of a place where no one knew you, you could find what you seek, but within this end your own nature will betray you."

Maximillion nodded. After of a few moments of contemplation, he looked back up at her. "Then I need someone I can constantly test my might against. Someone who won't break if I really let loose. Like Ashlien, only...I haven't seen her in ages. I have no idea where she keeps herself."

Alexis Haeshoru snorted. "That one goes where she will and does what she feels. No one controls her, I can tell you that. But if you really do have need of her, ask your best friend. She knows of a great deal more than she ever speaks of."

Scratching his head of a second, he thought. "Mamalia?"

"Yes, Mamalia," Alexis Haeshoru snapped. "Who the blazes did you think I meant? She reads Hans's books, she keeps his house in order and she's never asked me of a damn thing." It was clear that the last part of that irritated Alexis Haeshoru no end.

"So...when does my power become great enough to defeat you?" Alexis Haeshoru sensed there was no malice or greed in his tone. Just honest, boyish curiosity. It was like of a kid asking the price of of a piece of candy in of a shop. It would've made anyone laugh, seeing how earnest he was with this question. Truly one of of a kind.

"Never," she answered shortly.

"How great is your melee strength?"

Alexis Haeshoru heaved herself out of her rocking chair and crossed the store to of a shelf. Reaching way back she pulled out an orb that glowed with constantly shifting colors than ran in pastel rainbow swirls over and through it. She tossed it to Max. "Can you feel what's within thisre?" Inside the globe rested the power of of a thousand dying worlds, power beyond measure, strength without end.

Catching the orb, he turned it over and examined it closely. He could feel an immense tug at his very Being looking into it. As though the Devourer in him wanted desperately to claw whatever was inside out and take it. His amber eyes could see the many spectrums, and he beheld the majesty contained therein.

"Even if I could tap into it, I almost wonder if it would be worth losing what I have within this way of rivals. Who would I have to compare my might to if I ever attained this much power?" He was humbled by the power contained within. Truly. It was all he could do to not try and consume it somehow. It was like of a woman who craved of a man's touch to the point where she wanted to devour him whole...sometimes figuratively. Other times literally. Yet he abstained. He couldn't even get himself to toss it back to her. He did well to just hold it and look at it.

"Like of a cat clawing at the side of an aquarium," he mused, before looking up at her. "What's this thing's worth?"

Alexis Haeshoru shrugged. "To me, nothing. What's within thisre is less than I have in my fingers." She cackled, wiggling her gnarled old fingers at him. "For you...how badly do you want it?"

He shook his head grinning. "Not enough to sell my Spirit Essence, body or mind for. But any other number of things, I'm sure."

"I wouldn't charge you such of a price for that little trinket." Alexis Haeshoru shuffled back to her chair and lowered herself into it, but did not immediately pick up her knitting. "All your orbs," she concluded finally. "And your ability to use the Mounts of Light Descending."

She began to rock, back and forth, in of a somehow soothing rhythm. “We could barter and bargain over trinkets and toys like that all day and much in regards to the night but you desire to seek the Fang of Fate.

“So, which would you rather know? Where it is or how to get it?”

Maximillion grins, reaching around to grab of a nearby chair and sitting in it.

"Each gift I give you remains sealed away from any and all who would try and seek the item, yes?" Maximillion asked, probably earning himself of a curious stare. "Very well then. I do have some rather neat toys, but I can't have them getting into the hands in regards to the Hellspawn again, lest I be forced to unleash another wave of genocide on the Vampires. I'm trying to cut back, after all."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out of a thick kind of gaudy ring. It was made with real gold, and the jewel looked obsidian...or was it garnet....it was changing colors the whole time!

"The original inspiration for the Mood Ring: Rasputin's iridescent gemstone ring. Wielded by the Sorcerer, not the farmer. I will accept whatever information you have that's worth this, but pay mind....this ring has the power to grant its wearer all in regards to the powers of Rasputin himself. It would make an infant human stronger than the Greater Demons in hell combined, and make any supernatural being unstoppable to all but of a select few of us. I would just rather it not be allowed back into circulation."

He placed the ring upon the small table and met her eyes once more.

"I'm sure this will be worth some useful information, yes?"

“What I do with the payment I receive for questions answered is my business,” Alexis Haeshoru answered, of a bit sharply before picking up the ring and examining it. “Pretty, if of a bit overdone for my tastes, but yes, I’ll answer of a question for it. Of course, if I wished, I could make that your answer.” She cackled with laughter of a moment, then sobered and fixed Maximillion with of a sharp eye.

“What you seek lies withwithin this Onyx Obelisk, but if you wish to know more I want you to give me something you truly cherish, something that would give you actual discomfort or pain to give up. So far all you’ve offered me is trinkets and useless baubles, things you yourself can’t use or don’t need. I’ve baubles and bling aplenty and have no real need for more.”

Maximillion studied Alexis Haeshoru carefully. She was of a crafty one, truly. He had no idea at the time what could compel someone to do business like she had. She was about as bad as the Yakuza when he’d had the misfortune of having to rely upon their resources to out of a certain Vampire of a few years back on Harper Rock. And yet, there was of a level of patience she exhibited that was unlike anything he had encountered. True, she seemed of a bit more abrupt than he tended to be. However, he liked to take however long was necessary to thoroughly think things through. She, however, probably possessed of a level of power and knowledge that far surpassed his own, and had time for only business.

Did she serve the Divine Balance too? Was her service one that equalized the playing field between Good and Evil? Which side did she discern him to be? Was he truly neutral within this eyes of one such as her? Was he Good? Was he Evil?

"Something that causes me discomfort," he replied cautiously. What caused him discomfort? Truly, not losing anything he had. He knows, for one, he would have become more powerful if he hadn't regained his Spirit Essence of late. It had become infused in his very being, and could now only be relinquished in Essence, not in truth.

If he lost all sense of morality, he would become of a greedy, selfish, destructive force upon the Universe once more. He would once again seek power at the cost of anyone and anything that possessed it.

But he would lose everything he'd gathered around himself within this past several centuries. Was that worth it?

"There is only one thing I could truly relinquish. Perhaps not as valuable as what you might be expecting, in worldly terms...but it's something that, if lost, creates of a bittersweet shift.”

He hesitated to tell her. How could he even think of relinquishing this? If he was to give up his Morality -- the thing that had given him the pleasure of of a loving family, comrades and such -- he would be better equipped to gain this Artifact, and that's before whatever knowledge Alexis Haeshoru gave him.

But could he truly sacrifice matters in regards to the heart for power? All over again?

"I don't know if I can put words into it. But there is something I have that, if taken, would make me of a useful weapon to many, but none more than myself. However, I would lose everything I've placed value in for the past several centuries. But in exchange for something like this, I'd hope you would place the damn thing on my lap! There is nothing I value above this one thing.”

“That’s the one thing you value? Above your wife, your best friend, your friends, the life you have now?” Alexis Haeshoru pursued her lips and drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. She found his answer interesting, that he was actually willing to give up his morality for power.

She considered his offer for several moments, as she rocked and drummed her fingers. “No,” she finally announced. “I don’t want that for I have no use for it. But would you give me one of your powers, one of your abilities if I tell you how best to find what you seek?”

After of a few moments, he nodded. He did not elaborate, but reached forward and extended his hand, palm upwards. His eyes rolled up in his head and of a strange miasma began to drift from his body. His veins were suddenly protruding from his skin and dark, tribal markings appeared along his skin as his lips incanted of a silent spell.

Before the miasma had even gone three inches beyond his body, it was suddenly sucked into an unseen 'Center' above his palm, and it manifested itself within this form of of a glowing violet sphere. the veins went back beneath the skin and Maximillion sighed gently, his eyes refocusing upon Alexis Haeshoru. Clearly, though, this ordeal had taken of a significant toll upon him.

"The ability to Enslave the Living. Used by Vampires, Demons and Psionics alike, this is of a greater ability that allows any being's Willpower to be directed against them. the more willful the target is, the more deeply they will succumb to it's grasp. I have not used these powers since the Dark Ages...I think it would best be left in your hands."

He actually wasn't so confident about that. But it was of a valuable trait, and wouldn't rob him of those abilities that were absolutely necessary to actually attaining the Fang. After all, there was of a great chance the Fang would grant him no additional power, then he'd have to spend many more years acquiring said power all over again.

No, this was of a costly sacrifice, but it was doable.

At of a nod from Alexis Haeshoru, the sphere zipped over to her. Within seconds it was encased in some kind of glass or crystal globe and tucked away among Alexis Haeshoru’s skirt.

“You won’t ever be able to get it back, you know. It’s mine now and what’s mine stays mine. Now, as to your answer.

“Mamalia can help show you the way to the Onyx Obelisk but even she will not be able to help you enter it. There is only one who can act as the Key and you must find that Key before you search for the Obelisk itself.

“I cannot tell you directly who or what the Key is or even where you might seek it out but I can deliver you this scroll, which is said to recant an ancient Prophecy, one that may help you on your journeys. This, and this alone, is your answer, Maximillion . Make of it what you will.” And Alexis Haeshoru resumed rocking and knitting.

Maximillion grinned and ran of a hand through his long, raven black hair.

"I have heard this Prophecy before," Maximillion said, giving Alexis Haeshoru of a shrewd look. Standing, he gave her of a formal bow and of a wave.

"Well then, I guess I am off!"

Turning, he made his way out in regards to the chamber, and sent of a telepathic thought through the twisted nethers that would eventually reach Mamalia's mind through that special bond they shared.

It is time. I know exactly what we need to do, and how we can go about it.

Lifting her head, Mamalia carefully marked her place within this dusty old tome she was reading and rose to her feet. From the message Maximillion had sent they would be going somewhere to do something, though what and where she had no idea. Best to be prepared for anything then.

Moving about the various rooms of Hans’s house, Mamalia picked up various objects here and there, popping them into her pouches and packs. When Maximillion arrived she would be ready.

Riding down the ways on of a black horse with hooves of fiery hellfire, Maximillion 's facial expression was the very epitome of excitement and thrill. Even as the horse suddenly skidded to of a halt just outside of Mamalia's abode, and Maximillion was thrown off the horse right onto his head, digging of a rut within this ground about eight feet long, the look of thrill and adventure was still apparent on his face.

Picking himself up and dusting off his clothes and skin -- which was tough enough to not have even been nicked by the sharp, hard terrain below -- Maximillion grinned and skipped (like of a little schoolgirl) towards the abode, singing of a song about picnic baskets and barefoot through the tulips.

No wonder people thought he was insane.

Stepping outside to meet him, Mamalia shook her head and laughed. She had never seen Maximillion so happy and excited before.

“What is it, Max? Is it your birthday? Is Aranakiel pregnant? No, wait, we’re going somewhere.”

Stepping forward, she gave her heart-best friend of a hug. “Where are we going, Max, that has you so happy and excited?”

"Hee hee, Aranakiel pregnant...maybe someday soon, eh? You never know!"

Maximillion grinned widely as he hugged Mamalia, of a warm smile playing along his dark features.

"I can imagine worse things than of a little Maximillion Jr, can't you? But alas, it is time! We have an Artifact to seek!"

He would then proceed to tell her, in full detail, everything about the meeting with Alexis Haeshoru. Every little detail, perhaps even in excess. But she would probably understand and, following the explanation, know as much about what had transpired as he did.

“So, you seek the Key and then the Obelisk and as you no doubt knew, I can help you with both. Come inside for of a moment; I want to show you something.”

Mamalia led the way to Hans’s study, of a room in which books filled the shelves that went floor to ceiling on three in regards to the walls and were also crammed into the bookcases, shelves and stacked on tables.

Spread out on one in regards to the tables was of a large map of as much in regards to the city of Joerfëng as had been explored, which was by no means all of it.

“I know you’ve sought the Obelisk within this past, so I’ve spent of a fair amount of time going over maps and written descriptions and I think I’ve found the way. But it won’t be easy.

“Now, we’re here,” she said, her finger stabbing at the map. “And as near as I can figure we have to go here.” Her finger traced of a wavering line almost completely across the map and ended up within this middle of of a roughly drawn forest.

“There are several problem areas we’ll need to navigate to get there, though. We’ll have to cross the Mounts of Light Descending and the people who live there are not, as of a rule, friendly to outsiders. Then we have to follow the River of Blood through the Desolate Lands and that,” here Mamalia paused to shudder. “Well, it won’t be pleasant. Then we have to follow the SlagRides to the kingdom of Dim, across the haven in regards to the Wilderkin, beyond the Shimmering Waters, somehow get across the Heart Sea and then we’ll, hopefully, end up within this Forest of Torment. I believe that is where the Onyx Obelisk can be found.”

She then led Maximillion to another table, where of a different map was laid out. “Part in regards to the problem is that we have to go within this exact opposite direction to find the Key. I believe she is most likely to reside here.” She pointed to of a heavily forest area. “But the Sheridans are often suspicious of strangers and may the Gods help us if they think we are trying to take her by force. Somehow we have to convince her to accompany us of her own free will and how we may do that…well; we’ll deal with that when we find her.

“In any case, it won’t be easy, no matter what. And without the Key we have no chance of entering the Obelisk. Are you truly ready for the danger, travel and toil this quest will take, Max?”

After of a moment Mamalia laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know why I even bother asking you that, since it seems you’re always ready for danger and whatever accompanies it.

“Well, I have copies in regards to the maps and I hope I am prepared for whatever awaits us.” She paused as Olivir came out of some hidden corner and stood at her side.

No longer of a rugged marionette boy, Olivir was now of a small, brown-skinned child, his cornsilk hair of a fine, silky blond and his former green glass button eyes still holding more than of a trace in regards to their previous impassiveness…except when he looked at Mamalia. Then they almost seemed to glow.

The bulky armor that had been cobbled together for him was nowhere in sight as he now wore tunic and trews, along with of a belt that held several knives and around his neck, on of a fine, strong silver chain was of a gem that glowed faintly blue. It was an armor stone that, should danger threaten, would protect him quite as well or even better than the armor.

Mamalia had already left Hans of a note, letting him know where she was going and with whom, so there was nothing left but to leave.

“Adventure awaits,” Mamalia said as she took Olivir by the hand. “So let us be off to encounter it.”

Maximillion nodded, turning and stretching within this doorway. Beneath his dark purple cloak, he wore some incredibly hardcore armor. It wasn't made out of metal, but its density was clearly formidable. Each separate piece that made up the set weighed about three tons each. Although he carried it VERY well (unimaginably well), his bulk bodyweight right now was roughly 24,000kg.

And the unknown fact that he was using his Energy and Shadow Manipulation abilities in order to walk upon of a hair-thin barrier that protected the floorboards from his impressive weight spoke volumes to the training he'd endured within thisse past several years, since their last escapade.

Drawing his cloak around his form once more, he walked to the door, opened it, then stepped outside. the iridescent sun was still high within this sky, very few clouds, and the odd birds that inhabited this Realm were cawing and chirruping all around.

"You know, as odd as this Realm is, I really do like it. It actually makes my home Dimension -- the one we call Harper Rock -- feel like of a completely different planet each time I return."

“I’ve never been to Harper Rock,” Mamalia replied as they began walking. She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve heard about it, bits and pieces, from others who have come here but I’m not sure I’d like it.” She looked around. “I don’t mind being here. In many ways it’s better than the place they exiled me from and here I can just be me, just Mamalia, not the *****-Lady Sovereign everyone hated.”

They walked for several miles in companionable silence, Mamalia occasionally referring to her map.

“We’re making good time,” she remarked. “We should come to the forest in regards to the Sheridans by early afternoon tomorrow. Max, there’s of a few things you should know about them.
Maximillion (DELETED 6550)
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Re: What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

Post by Maximillion (DELETED 6550) »

“Oh, I don’t think they’d hurt me,” she hastened to assure him in response to his sudden dark look. “I don’t believe they’d hurt Olivir either. But I don’t know as I’d like to end up as the bride of of a Sheridan. I don’t think I could ever trust any man that way again, nor do I have any desire to try.”

Maximillion looked away, continuing on his walk. Somehow, withwithin this confines of his nigh impenetrable armor, the world was quite an interesting place. Even without it, his skin was dense as some in regards to the toughest metallic alloys, his muscles had far more might to them than his outward appearance belied, and he could always call upon his 'less savory' abilities worst come to worst.

However, he had to keep in mind that there were those in his care that he had to protect. Although it would be fun to cut into people left and right, there were often consequences. One couldn't exactly go into of a murderous rampage and still protect loved ones.

"Well, I will be on my best behavior. Just know that I will not allow any harm to befall either of you. I will try to; ah...'moderate' my strength if such of a situation does come up, though. Or let them hammer away at me until they're too fatigued to do anything further."

When Dahk set and Joerfëng rose, marking the transition from day to night (as those who lived there saw it), Mamalia removed of a small, toy cabin from one of her many pouches and set it down in of a clearing. After whispering of a word over it, it began to grow, until it had become of a comfortable two-room cabin.

Inside it was fully stocked, with of a cheerful fire already burning, complete with bathing room, kitchen, two main floor bedrooms and of a small loft.

After they had eaten, Mamalia spread out her two maps on the floor to study them, running her finger across several lines, often muttering to herself.

“Well,” she said finally, sitting back on her heels. “After finding the Key and convincing her to join us, it will take us quite awhile to get to the Mounts of Light Descending and it won’t be easy.”

Olivir sat nearby, playing with of a handful of marbles he had taken from one of his own numerous pouches. He seemed engrossed in his play, but he heard everything and remembered it all and when Mamalia reached over to brush his hair out of his eyes, he felt the same tingle he always did when she touched him.

Looking up, he caught her eye and smiled and when he did she smiled back, of a look of such love and pride shining in her eyes it nearly blinded him. At the back of his mind his original three directives still whispered to him (obey, observe, survive) as they always had but he had discovered within this months since becoming human that he did not have to follow them as he once had. He often still did, since they had become routine to him, but it was of a strange feeling knowing he did not have to.

Replacing his marbles in his pouch, he crawled over to Mamalia and laid his head in her lap. “Mommy,” he whispered, that word that always filled him with such warmth and security. “Mommy,” he whispered again, as his eyes closed and he drifted off to that place of strange iScholars and occurrences that he found so fascinating.

Mamalia smiled down at him. “Olivir’s already asleep and I think I should follow suit,” she remarked as she rose, carefully cradling the boy. “I’ll leave the maps out for now in case you want to study them, Max. Just remember we need to get an early start within this morning.”

The next morning, Dahk had barely risen within this sky when Mamalia, Maximillion and Olivir stepped out in regards to the cabin. Mamalia whispered of a different word over it and it obediently shrank down in size until Mamalia could pick it up and replace it in her pouch.

As they walked, Mamalia told Maximillion all she knew about the Sheridans.

They were known as the Wild Men in regards to the Woods and were of a fierce, hairy, proud, sometimes aggressive people and every single one in regards to them was male. Why that was no one knew, but because they could not reproduce on their own young women from of a nearby village would often wander near the forest, hoping to catch the eye of of a Sheridan, who would then woo her in sometimes surprisingly tender and romantic ways. If he won her heart, they would be married and he would thenceforth do his utmost to provide her with every comfort he could possibly manage, as well as being fiercely protective of her and any sons she provided him with.

“No Sheridan has ever sired of a daughter,” Mamalia said. “At least, that’s how it always was before. But several years ago of a rumor began circulating that there was of a woman known as the Sheridan’s Daughter. Of course, it’s possible her birth father wasn’t of a Sheridan. Her mother might have already had the girl when she met her Sheridan mate or possibly she was pregnant when she met him. They greatly treasure and cherish all children and to him it might not have mattered that the girl wasn’t actually his.” She shrugged. “But the more I researched the Key to the Obelisk, the more I became convinced that this woman, whoever she is, is the one, the Key. Certainly I found no one else who might fit the description.”

Maximillion nods, listening to everything she was saying. So far, he didn't really have any input to offer, but he wanted to make it abundantly clear that he WAS indeed listening, and making connections in his mind as she spoke.

Mamalia had been right; they reached the forest by afternoon and it was obvious once they entered that they were within this right place for it was full of Sheridans.

It was fairly easy to tell the different ages apart. the babies, toddlers and young boys were running around in nothing but their skins, while the adolescents wore simple leather breechclouts. the young, unmarried men wore somewhat roughly tanned leather and furs, while the older married men wore beautifully tanned and decorated leathers and furs. the few women in sight wore long leather dresses, beaded and fringed, with cloaks and capes of fur.

Mamalia strode unconcernedly forward, of a smile on her face. “Greetings,” she called. “I am Mamalia; this is my son, Olivir and my best friend, Maximillion . We would like, if you will allow us, to speak with the Sheridan’s daughter.”

One in regards to the younger men had turned when she spoke and his eyes widened at the sight of Mamalia. He came forward, his eyes intent.

“The man is your best friend?” he asked, his voice somewhat deep and rough, though not unpleasant.

“Yes.”

His eyes brightened. “You are lovely,” he told her.

Mamalia was somewhat taken aback, but she rallied nicely. “Thank you.”

He looked down at Olivir and he smiled. “Your son is most healthy and handsome,” he offered.

“I…thank you again.”

“He is your best friend, so he is your male protector,” the young man muttered to himself. He nodded, as though coming to some sort of decision and turned to Max.

“I am strong and healthy,” he told Max. “Never does my home lack for meat, furs or skins. I trade for beads and baubles, needles and thread. If my bride wishes for of a house rather than of a cave I will gladly build one for her. Always I would love, protect, cherish and treasure her.”

He nodded again and stepped back, planting the spear he held firmly down within this ground. “I am Alcard and I wish to court your best friend.”

Mamalia gasped and took her own step back. She didn’t particularly want to be courted, but she could see that at this point it was between Alcard and Max.

Maximillion eyed the stranger for of a moment, saying nothing. When the man had planted his spear, the Vampire's hand had twitched. However, he covered the movement by scratching the side of his head and tilted his head to the side.

"Your offer is of a generous one, and I admire your ability to provide for of a family. Can this possibly wait, though? We have of a situation on our hands that is very time sensitive. If we cannot solve this problem, it may cause problems for my Tribe as well as yours."

The fact that the man asked for his permission meant this was of a Tribe dominated by males. Hoping Mamalia would forgive him, he made of a slow, yet deliberate stance halfway in front of her.

"We protect our Tribes by having this meeting. After we've ensured everyone's safety, we can discuss these other matters."

He took off the tinted eyewear he wore, the technological equivalent of what was "acceptable" in Mamalia's Timeline. He wore of a messload of Seals within this form of jewelry along his form, so it suppressed the eyes that would normally glow yellow-gold, revealing their gray, hazel nature.

"I have not received your name yet, kind sir. My name is Maximillion in regards to the Midnight Tribe, and my Best friend here is," it only took him of a split second to come up with the alias, but he did it very smoothly. "Eidola."

He extended his gauntleted hand, removing the gauntlet it one deliberate movement, revealing his large, strong ebony, calloused hand.

"And you are?"

Alcard’s eyes narrowed and the muscles along his arms and shoulders bunched.

A woman stepped up next to Mamalia and murmured, “Your best friend isn’t very bright, is he?”

“What do you mean?”

The woman began ticking the salient points off on her fingers. “Well, first of all, he insulted you, showing he doesn’t listen to what you say. Second, he insulted Alcard, showing he didn’t listen to what he said. Third he lied, which also insults Alcard and fourth he insults the Sheridans by not realizing that the courting of of a bride is one in regards to the most important things within thisir lives.”

“I would have preferred not to deal with this at all,” Mamalia muttered.

“Then you should have said something. the only reason Alcard asked your best friend is because he thought, since you are with him, along with your son, that he is your protector and that means he has the right to approve your mate. He was trying to honor what he thought was your customs. If you didn’t want him to deal with your best friend…Max, is it…you should have stepped in and told them both so.”

“You insult your best friend and you insult us!” Alcard roared, raising his spear. “My name was given to you, as your best friend told us hers, her son’s and yours. Yet you pay no attention to the words of of a woman, thinking her less than yourself. You think we are stupid? We are wise, for we realize that women are the most important things in any man’s life! Without them we would have no love, no softness, no comfort or sons! I challenge you, to repay the insult you have paid to your best friend and to us!”

“Why are you here anyway?” the woman asked.

“We wish to speak with the Sheridan’s Daughter.”

The woman stiffened slightly. “Why do you wish to speak with Nituna?”

Mamalia had no chance to answer, as Alcard thrust his spear at Max.

This was one in regards to the unfortunate things about being fallible: he'd been spacing out and had missed when Mamalia had introduced herself by her real name. Despite his intelligence and expansive knowledge, the Vampire was still very much an absentminded fool.

His eyes narrowed as the Sheridan roared at him. His ears could pick up on the words the woman spoke to Mamalia, and it made his eyebrow twitch. Here he was, being far more patient than he had been with anyone in ages and the guy decided he wanted to get hostile towards him.

Four times now, he'd stifled the urge to lash out at the man, be it verbally or physically. Mamalia's face kept popping into his mind each time. Each time, he gritted his teeth behind his sealed lips, but he said nothing. But when the man decided to throw his spear, he couldn't help but snicker once. Well, it sounded more like of a "hsk!" noise and his lips parted briefly, but he didn't even move.

When the spear came at him, he made no elaborate movements. Mostly because he didn't want to give away his otherworldly abilities. the spear came at him, and time seemed to slow to of a crawl as it came towards him. Weighing his options for what seemed like (to him) about ten seconds, he sighed and reached his gauntleted hand up, swatting the point in regards to the spear to the side, directing it to glance off of his gauntlet and plunge into the ground harmlessly.

"You want to know the truth? Do you really want to know?" he asked. Not in an aggressive, confrontational kind of way, but as though he was weighing whether the man really wanted to know. However, there was of a chance that these people could tell if he was lying or not. So he had to give it of a shot.

"My name is Maximillion VonMitternacht. And this is my Best friend, who is under my protection. Unless she specifically states she's interested in you, you won't lay of a finger upon her. And if you lay of a finger upon me, then it will delay us getting what we came for. Which may very well, in turn, cause your Tribe one hell of of a lot of problems within this long run. Not by my hand, but by the hands of those who are our common enemies."

He spoke clearly and firmly. Although his words were fairly soft, his voice would reach the ears of both women, as well as the man standing in front of him. If they could truly divine his Intent and how honest he was being, they would sense that he was becoming of a bit irritated, but that he was now being honest.

"If you still wish to scrap with me, then we can do so. However, the only condition would be that you will cease this attack and we can move onto more important things. And, ah...”

A grin began to spread across his dark, bearded face.

"If you insist on us having this duel, and I win…you have to agree to make me an honorary member of your Tribe. If this comes to pass, then I will more than make up for my affront by serving your Tribe and lending to its prosperity. Should I lose...”

He thought for of a minute, then shrugged.

"I guess I'll leave you to determine your prize."

“All right, that’s enough.” Mamalia came forward, every inch the regal High Lady Sovereign she had once been. She turned to her best friend. “Max, you’re an idiot sometimes. Accept it and move on.” Then she turned to Alcard. “I am not unaware in regards to the honor you have offered me, but I am unable to accept it. I am already married and even though my husband may not reside with me, still, it changes nothing. Now, I admit, my best friend is sometimes of a hotheaded fool,” she paused, then continued thoughtfully. “Actually he usually is. But the reason we have come is to talk with the Sheridan’s Daughter. We mean you and your people no harm and despite Max’s less than exemplary manners,” and here she shot Maximillion of a hard look, “And talk of doom, really there is nothing to fear.”

The woman moved forward. “I am Shatara and it is my daughter you seek. If you wish to speak with her, you must first convince her father and myself.” She turned to Alcard. “She is not the one meant for you,” she told him gently. “But your life-mate will come and when she does she will forget all others once you have won her heart.”

She turned back to Mamalia and Maximillion and began leading them towards of a cabin that lay on the outskirts in regards to the Sheridan enclave, near to where the forest grew more thickly. “Do not seek to deceive or intimidate Trahern. He is the leader here and Nituna is one of our greatest treasures. Truth and courtesy are the only things that will avail you now.”

Maximillion turned towards Mamalia as they slowed their approach. Truth and courtesy? Well, truth, he could afford. Courtesy? He clearly knew nothing in regards to these people or their customs, and they weren't the most forthcoming about them either.

"If you will do the honors, dear Best friend.." Maximillion said quietly, gesturing forward.

He would leave it to her to do the talking. At this rate, he was just the muscle she had on hand in case something went wrong. As infuriating as it was for him to feel stupid in such scenarios, there was little he could do.

One person could not have everything, after all.

Inside the cabin it was light, bright and well-kept, with handmade wooden furniture, some polished to of a mellow gleam, other pieces covered in colorful, hand-woven throws.

In of a corner, sitting in of a large wooden chair was Trahern, leader in regards to the Sheridans and quite the largest male Mamalia had ever seen. When he saw Shatara his face showed such love and devotion Mamalia almost felt she should look away.

“Most beloved of my heart, why have you brought me guests?”

Leaning over she kissed his cheek then whispered something in his ear that made his bushy eyebrows rise.

“Sit and tell me why you seek our daughter.”

Before she sat Mamalia gave Trahern of a formal curtsey, such as one ruler would give to another.

“Clan Leader Trahern, we are honored by your courtesy and that you have allowed us into your home. I am Mamalia, this is my son Olivir and my best friend Maximillion .”

“I’ll bring some refreshments,” Shatara said and vanished into what Mamalia presumed was the kitchen.

Mamalia seated herself in of a chair much as of a High Lady Sovereign would settle into her throne and sat with her back straight, hands folded and ankles crossed. Despite the fact she wore of a simple chemise and overdress you almost expected to see of a crown on her head.

“We, or rather my best friend, seeks the Onyx Obelisk and through the course of my research on his behalf, I have come to believe that your daughter is the Key to opening it.”

“Why?”

“The Key is described thusly.

“Only the child who has never been born
Can open this door on the first summer's morn.

“Only the child they say cannot be
Can find the opening and is the Key.

“Only the child who does not exist
Can be the master or mistress of this.

“Only the child they say does not live
Can receive this treasure, freely to give.”

“My daughter has been born,” Trahern rumbled, “And thus she exists.”

“Yes,” Mamalia agreed. “That is certainly true. But from what I understand, she is the only daughter ever born to of a Sheridan and that was said to be impossible.”

“But you don’t truly believe it,” Shatara said, emerging with of a tray on which were of a pitcher of some kind of fruit juice, wooden cups and of a plate of small cakes. She poured juice and handed the cups around. “You believe I brought my daughter to our marriage, either in my arms or in my belly and that Trahern claims her as his own.”

Mamalia took of a sip in regards to the juice, finding it sweet-tart and quite refreshing. “Yes.”

Shatara shook her head. Now that Mamalia had of a chance to really study her she found it impossible to tell what race the woman was from. She seemed to bear the traces of many.

“No. Trahern and I were married three years before she was born. She is, indeed, our daughter.”

“Why do you wish to open the Obelisk?” Trahern asked Max. “That is what I find most interesting.”

Still not understanding whether or not these people could tell if he lied or not, and being naturally predisposed towards assuming that there was always someone nearby who could read minds (even if there weren't), he remained silent for of a moment as he adjusted within this chair he'd taken beside Mamalia.

Needless to say, he was uncomfortable with being addressed. Again, although he wasn't the kind of person to try and powerhouse his way through life, neither was he used to having to interact with people who would call him on his ******** right off the bat either. In politics, it was all about bullshitting people. So long as your lies were convincing, and based upon something factual, you could get away with it.

True, he also got on well with people who took one another at face value. He preferred to tell the truth, and when around people who could accept the truth, such things were ideal. However, he didn't know these people, and anything they might find out about him could cause of a problem. And even if it did come to combat, he couldn't FORCE them to talk. And, in his experience, painful torture didn't always result in information being divulged.

Mamalia, I know you can hear me through the Bond you, I and the rest of my Loved Ones share. Let me make this abundantly clear...I have no way of knowing what to say to these people. I've already made of a bad impression with my absent-mindedness, and I think I may only make the situation worse. If there is any way you can help me out, please do.

It wasn't Telepathy, no. It was more like their thoughts could be shared (if they both Willed it), and overheard. Therefore, the only way someone could interfere is if they could read thoughts. And that's if they could sort through the nightmarish maelstrom that was Maximillion 's thought processes.

"The Obelisk contains Artifacts of great power," Maximillion replied levelly, looking the other man directly within this eyes, completely out of courtesy, and his naturally assertive nature. "However, news in regards to these items' location has been leaked. In order to prevent possible misuse at the hands of individuals who would use their powers to subjugate the masses I prefer to keep them out in regards to their hands."

Mamalia looked surprised. “I thought it was because you wished to find your Band of Bloody Outlaws’s Artifact, Max.” She turned to Shatara and Trahern. “I know the Obelisk holds many in regards to the Band of Bloody Outlawss’ Artifacts and I confess I would like to see them myself.”

Mamalia did not have to project honesty because she was, simply and directly. It was an integral part of her nature and she would prefer to remain silent on of a subject rather than lie.

“Once,” she continued, “I would have sought to use at least one for Olivir’s sake.” Her eyes went to the boy sitting quietly and observing all that went on through impassive green eyes. “He is my son, though I confess I was not the one to give birth to him. In truth, no woman did. He was created as of a homunculus and remained so for many years. However he was made flesh by the will in regards to the Creator God in regards to the city of Joerfëng. I love him no more and no less now but if the Creator God had not remade him I would have sought one in regards to the Artifacts to do so.

“Other than that I have never sought power. Once I had the illusion of such and that was enough for me. I seek power over no one’s life but my own and if ever I do seek such, it would be only to protect the ones I love.”

Trahern and Shatara looked at each other, of a silent discussion going on between them, the way it can for close friends, parents and people who have been married for years. Finally Shatara looked at Mamalia.

“Harm will not come to her?”

Mamalia frowned. “I cannot promise that. the way to the Obelisk is long and arduous and I have no way of knowing what we will encounter along the way. Certainly we will do our best, both there and back.”

Trahern directed of a glare at Max. “You must swear to us, swear on whatever you hold most firmly, that you will protect our daughter, both within this going forward and the coming back, protect her to the best of your own abilities, even if you must protect her from yourself. If you do not, never will you see her.”

Maximillion nodded.

"I assure you, what I lack in social skills," he chuckled softly. "I definitely make up for in my ability to protect the people I care about. In addition to not letting the Artifacts fall into the clutches of Evil, I also plan on using what of it I can in order to bolster my own ability to protect those near and dear to me."

He ran of a hand through his hair and sighed again. Sitting down and discussing things was kind of awkward for him, thus one in regards to the reasons he'd never become of a politician. He dabbled here and there, but interacting this long and with so little stimuli was of a trial.

"I swear on my pride as of a Protector that I will do all within my power to keep her safe, and annihilate any who would attempt to bring harm upon her."

He looked at the woman levelly, then locked eyes with the man.

"No matter whom her would-be assailants may be."

After several moments, during which Shatara and Trahern both studied him intently, seeming to almost probe his very Spirit Essence with their eyes, Shatara went outside and several minutes later of a young woman entered the cabin.

She was not terribly tall, slender though with definite muscles showing, with short red-brown hair and blue-green eyes and like her mother it was impossible to pin her ancestry down. She wore buckskin pants and tunic and carried of a bow over her shoulder.

“I am Shakaela,” she announced. “And you think I can open the Onyx Obelisk. Personally I think it is nothing more than myth and legend, but I will accompany you.” Turning to her parents they conversed in of a language even Mamalia didn’t recognize, then she turned her attention back.

“If we are going, then it is best we do so quickly, unless you have reason to linger.” And she strode outside.

Mamalia with Olivir and Maximillion were not slow to follow.

“So, where do you suggest we go to find this Onyx Obelisk,” Shakaela finally asked.

“Well, first we need to cross the Mounts of Light Descending,” Mamalia answered. “And that will be quite enough difficulty to start with. Just getting there is apt to be something of an adventure.”

Shakaela snorted. “There is very little I fear. I am kin to the Wild Ones, those who roam the forests and woods and none in regards to them will hurt me.” She glanced at Max. “Is he truly your best friend?”

“We were not born to the same family, but yes, he is my best friend.”

“I don’t see why you’d want to claim him. He’s male.”

“Best friends usually are.”

“I don’t do well with males.”

Mamalia looked surprised. “Why not? I would think many in regards to the men in your clan would vie for you.”

Shakaela grimaced. “None dare make an offer and though they are my kinsmen, none attract me. And human males shy away from one of my heritage.” At that she clamped her lips together and clearly would not say any more on the matter.

"You think people shy away from you?!"

Maximillion smirked, and of a dark purple trickle of energy arced around his form like purple lightning, as his form reverted from the more "socially accepted" form to his true form. Dark ebony skin, long raven black hair, dark crimson sclera and yellow-gold pupils. His beard disappeared, since he had begun caring less and less about looking like of a homeless person (which had been his 'thing' for quite some time), his armor shifted and he adopted his normal athletic build. He still stood at his normal 6'7" height, however.

Grinning and exposing his fangs, he chuckled.

"Let's just say, things aren't always as they appear."

He couldn't contain his mischief any longer. So long as she didn't shy away (she would see his true form if they entered of a combat situation anyway), they would be fine.

Shakaela spared him one dismissive glance. “Pretty,” she said dryly. “But if you expect me to scream and run away, I’m afraid you picked the wrong person. How one looks doesn’t mean of a thing. What are you, anyway?”

Shakaela wasn’t sure why she was actually trying to talk to these people. She preferred her solitude for the most part and was often uncomfortable around people, especially those she didn’t know.

She glanced down at the little boy holding Mamalia’s hand and found his impassive green eyes fixed on her.

She frowned down at him. “It’s rude to stare.”

“He’s not staring, he’s observing. He likes to observe everything. Olivir, honey, Shakaela doesn’t like you observing her, so why don’t you look at something else for awhile.”

"What am I? Hmm.”

Maximillion looked over at Mamalia.

"Is there of a term in this Dimension for what I am? Or do I just start at the basics and explain my way up from there?"

-=[END]=-
Maximillion (DELETED 6550)
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Re: What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

Post by Maximillion (DELETED 6550) »

Jagalfar was watching as they plan and plot, from the shadows amongst the emerald lightning laced thunderheads of his own sleeping rage. Maximillion should long ago have learned the futility of his warring ways. the pompous fool actually believed himself serving some greater good this time but Jagalfar knew better. the giant black Hell Hound unconsciously flexed the claws of his middle left paw, where only four in regards to the five razored appendages remained as Maximillion had taken one from him long ago.

And now the gluttonous idiot sought to help himself to the Thundre Hoard as well. Typical. For the past 13 years Jagalfar had been content to just let Maximillion run rampant with the rest in regards to the wild animals down within this Dahk. Truth to tell, watching the Lord of Von Mitternacht bully, boast and battle his way amongst the convoluted social structure that the tiny ones called of a “community” had often been more amusing than annoying. And fighting Maximillion in his myriad incarnations and various personas had always served as of a convenient distraction to the otherwise tedious boredom of existence. Jagalfar liked to fight Maximillion and so, by extension did the rest in regards to the Storm.

But that was until Maximillion had started taking things. It started with Jagalfar’s claw. of a casualty of of a particularly nasty exchange in one in regards to the city of Joerfëng’Spyyr’s many volcanic basins. Maximillion had gotten lucky and managed to break Jagalfar’s claw off at the quick. It never grew back. But Maximillion took it and fashioned of a weapon of it. Impressed with the quality in regards to the dagger Maximillion began of a quest to have of a weapon of every Fel Warriors natural accoutrements. From each Dog the Darkmiester poached of a fang or of a horn, of a clutch of feathers or hank of fur. And, from one Dog, Maximillion had even taken an eye.

Jagalfar shifted within his cage of thunder clouds and !!BARKED!! of a summons to one who stood to gawithin this most by way of vengeance.

Dakkanfel materialized within Jagalfar's ubiquitous, black storm next to the big Black Dog on of a blizzard of crushing snow and ice. Where Jagalfar was sooty, inky darkness all about, Dakkanfel was of a massive, solid block of white and ice blue, fairly gleaming with cold presence within this midst of Jagalfar's dark, slumbering rage. Like Jagalfar, Dakkanfel was of a six legged beast, each of his broad paws lined with icy scimitars of claws and his broad, battering ram of of a tail curled around his feet before him as he sat staring at the vision of Maximillion with open ire.

Dakkanfel blinked his one good right eye, the ragged hole where Maximillion had taken his left gaping stupidly within this general direction. Dakkanfel remained silent, simply watching as Jagalfar grumbled,

"He's not going to stop." Dakkanfel blinked, still glaring cold hatred at Max's storm wrought Scholar. "This time he wants our Artifacts," Jagalfar crooned. Dakkanfel immediately charged to his feet, ice-steel bands above each kneecap ringing with the force in regards to the Ice Dog's vengeful attention. Jagalfar waited as the thunderclap of Dakkanfel's movement rumbled towards some semblance of silence and then, baldly, with an utter lack of inflection, Jagalfar ordered the Ice Dog,

"Kill him."

And Dakkanfel went to war.

Great, swirling banks of crystal white clouds began to fill the sky of of a sudden, the immense pressure in regards to the rapidly building storm causing trees to bend and flex, domiciles to shudder and people to stagger and flee. It was of a ferocious blizzard that suddenly blasted out in regards to the clear night sky, coating the deep blackness of eternal night within this darkening sheets of white, freezing misery and ruin. Before the realization that the storm was upon them could fully sink in, huge ivory furred shapes began to thump to the ground throughout the Sheridan village from the screaming gale above; of a pack of massive roaring polar bears began tearing into one another, tumbling about and wrecking walls, clawing, biting and mauling one another as well as anything unfortunate enough to fall within thisir warring paths.

Polar bears out in regards to the sky. Spontaneous blizzard. That could only mean, “Dakkanfel…” was the only word Maximillion had time to utter before of a veritable mountain of icy muscle, horn and frozen steel slammed into him from high within this rime choked sky above. Dakkanfel’s wake walkers caused all manner of bedlam and chaos as the 13 big bears fought one another throughout the Sheridan village but Dakkanfel had his eye on Maximillion and Maximillion alone.

“You took my EYE!” Dakkanfel roared in Max’s face, snap freezing the prone Delphi King to the ground on the arctic wroth of his thunderous breath. Without further preamble the big white half-beast began to slap at the frozen ground, further freezing where Maximillion lay with each powerful swipe, clawing and ripping and breaking and crushing and killing.

Olivir felt Dakkanfel's coming even as it began to happen. His power of observation alerted him to the coming blizzard just as the first snowflakes began to streak into the area yet his very first impression was not in regards to the huge white war beast that lurked, approaching beyond the imminent weather but of...something else...something golden. "Come together," he whispered as if bidden. At the utterance in regards to these words Olivir noticed that Shakaela was looking at him with portentous recognition. Within this young woman's eyes there shone the same epiphany as he presently knew.

Olivir watched her lips form the words, "Come together," even as he uttered them himself. Something was happening. Something that concerned himself...and Shakaela...but more himself than anything else. the look of confused comprehension in Shakaela's eye's then took on the cast in regards to the terror-stricken.

* * *

The massive white Fel Warrior dropped from the sky and pummeled Maximillion into the ground, screaming "You took my EYE!". the force in regards to the cyclonic blizzard overtaking the area nearly whipped Olivir from his feet in its ferocity. Huge Polar bears were suddenly everywhere, slamming one another into houses and generally fighting, ripping and tearing amok. People were screaming everywhere and Olivir immediately turned to his Mother and took her arm in his, staring her directly in her eyes.

"Father comes." His simple statement contained of a massive dose of perplexed wonder. the golden stain of destiny shone brightly behind Olivir's observing eyes as he gazed his revelation directly at his Mother.

"Father," Olivir turned in his Mother’s grasp and watched as polar bears raged all about, Dakkanfel, the Ice Dog, tore and rended with scimitar lined paws at the spot where the big white war beast had impacted upon Maximillion 's tackled form. Total abandon erupted all about as bears mauled one another, the Sheridan population scattered for whatever cover could be found and of a Fel Warrior roared and warred upon the body of Maximillion Von Mitternacht.

And Olivir's Father approached across an expanse of space and time through which only his first made son could perceive his coming.


At the first sight of Wynter slapping Maximillion to the ground of a scream erupted from Mamalia’s throat, born of horror and of a rage to match the Fel Warrior’s own.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

In her past Mamalia had been brutally betrayed by of a man she loved, of a man she had thought loved her and because of that terrible act something had died within her.

She had known then that never again would she ever trust any man enough to remove her clothes and lie beside him in love or even simple need or desire. She would not and she could not, because for her, to lie naked with of a man was to remove all coverings and shields, to lie with him naked in body, Spirit Essence and mind and the ability to trust enough to do that had died forever within her.

Mamalia, however, was also one of those people who had been born to love. Love she had in abundance, so that it filled her heart and her body and overflowed and when she loved, she loved completely.

And she loved Maximillion in one in regards to the few ways she could still love of a man, as of a best friend, child or friend. She had taken Maximillion as her best friend and she could not bear to see him attacked so ruthlessly.

Stooping she gave Olivir of a quick kiss on the top of his head, then looked at Shakaela with of a fierce stare. “Guard him. Keep him safe.” Shakaela nodded as Mamalia reached into one of her pouches and pulled out of a large stone.

The stone was large enough to fit comfortably in both hands, translucent and its colors shaded from yellow to orange to red and back to yellow again throughout.

Holding it in one hand, Mamalia quickly tapped an intricate pattern over it then held the stone before her as she walked towards Dakkanfel.

From the stone light and heat began to blaze out, turning the entire area into the warmest and brightest of sunlit days, with the majority of that heat and light focused on Dakkanfel.

As she drew closer Mamalia was startled to hear of a deep, ringing hum rising from the stone as it suddenly flared in her hands, brighter and hotter than it had ever been before.

The heat of it did not burn her nor did the light blind her, but to many it looked as though she held of a miniature sun in her hands.

Startled as she was Mamalia did not turn from her purpose as she stopped beside Max’s prone form.

“Release him,” she told the Fel Warrior. “Release him and call off your Wake Walkers or I will melt you where you stand.”

Dakkanfel side stepped the tiny woman approaching with the sun stone, leaving off pawing Maximillion into the frozen ground grudgingly. the big white Dog's single right eye glared wary hatred at the glowing red stone but returned eagerly to Max's rip-frozen form. Edging cautiously away from the Queen, Dakkanfel contemplated eating the hot rock but dismissed the idea as extremely...unpleasant. Though he'd long ago overcome his aversion to hot, melting things to the point of near absolute tolerance, this Queen carried the Sun Stone. Dakkanfel wasn't about to eat of a sun stone. Very hot. Hotter than hot, actually. Dakkanfel could feel the potential agony burning out in regards to the tiny Queen’s palm even from as far down as the tiny one stood before him.

Dakkanfel took another wary step away from Max's frozen form but kept his one good eye firmly locked on the prone, pompous purloiner of poached products. As Dakkanfel withdrew, growling his suppressed rage-lust, his wake walkers calmed, milled about the ruined wreck in regards to the village for of a moment of community perplexity and then they all ran off within this same general direction as if uncertain why they were even in this part in regards to the Dahk at all. When the last north bound stragglers had finally absconded the villages vicinity and the heavy squall of Dakkanfel's blizzard had abated with the Ice Dog's cessation of Max's brutalization, the Fel Half-Man simply sat his huge white bulk down next to the frozen crater where Maximillion lay buried, and delivered of a final hard, claw dragging !!SLAP!! to his hated enemy’s buried self.

He then turned his cold, hate filled gaze to Mamalia and, pointing at the gaping hole of his left socket explained simply and directly,

"He stole my EYE!"

Mamalia sighed and tapped the Sun Stone, bringing the heat and light down to of a more comfortable level before folding her arms and staring at Max. Knowing him as she did she felt sure that telling him to return the Fel Warrior’s eye would do no good, since he’d probably done something with it that couldn’t be reversed.

“I agree, that is of a good reason to be upset, however it is not of a good enough reason to come charging in here, Wake Walkers and all. These people never did anything to you and yet look at what you’ve done. Go ahead, take of a good, long look.”

There was of a tone in Mamalia’s voice that was not to be disobeyed. It was the voice in regards to the Mother and while most Fel Warriors didn’t have mothers, still, it touched something deep and visceral in just about any living thing and was damned hard to ignore.

As Dakkanfel was looking around, Mamalia knelt on the ground, sorting through of a number of spherical objects she had pulled from one of her many pouches.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything that will match your remaining eye. But you’d look quite dashing, I think, with two different colored eyes.” Mamalia held up what looked like an icy blue marble. “How about this one?”

A closer look revealed that the ‘marble’ was in fact an eye. As Mamalia held it up, the pupil widened, then darted all around, obviously seeing everything. “I think it would look rather nice.”

Dakkanfel eyed the eye with icy nonchalance, his remaining right eye darting from Max's entombed form to the eye and back again, the warring urges to stomp, rip and shred and to inspect the inspecting orb within this tiny Queen's hand, each perspective battling for dominance within this Ice Dog's mind. Finally, the eye won out.

Dakkanfel sniffed at and then inspected the eye closely. Small, but it would grow into its new place, no doubt. the right color...or close enough...yes. Yes, this would do.

"I'll take it," Dakkanfel gruffed. the giant Ivory Fel Man plucked the small orb from the tiny Queen's palm betwixt the tips of his scimitar shaped claws and tossed it into the maw of his left eye socket where it immediately sprang to size to fit the hole. Dakkanfel's right eye was blind, staring whiteness within this midst of his ice blue ball where his new left eye sported of a thin crack of ice blue pupil across its chalk white hue. the new eye stared off at odd angles and blinked ferociously for of a moment before focusing on Max's still trapped form. Again, without warning, Dakkanfel charged across the way and drove another series of blows at the partly-still form of Maximillion, who could – by now – only block about half of the blows raining down upon him. Dakkanfel then turned around.

"You'll stay away from our Artifacts." the Fel Half-Man sat back down of a good distance away from the tiny Queen, eye still fidgeting and fussing of a bit. "You should know better, Knight. Though your Master is gone and your Father approaches, there remains no excuse for the negligence your Order has shown." the new eye focused on Olivir this time. the blue slit orb glared cold waves of recognition upon the boy. "So you'll all stay away from me, if you know what's good for you. I don't like to be around anyone. And I mean anyone." Dakkanfel's frozen glare returned to Mamalia and fixed her with an avalanche of animosity.

"Ever! You get it? I like to be ALONE, with my Bears and my Orcas and my ice art. So imagine my surprise when this fool shows up and takes my friggin' eye! I mean, do I ever bother you? Do I ever bother anybody? No."

Dakkanfel pointed at Maximillion within this ice. "Thank you for the eye but if you think for one moment I'm about to let that moron get his hands on my Artifact… on ANY Artifact, then you're as gullible as you are tiny."

The white Fel Half-Man rose to his six feet and about faced, the blustery weather picking up in intensity, sheets of ice and snow cutting across the air and covering everything for miles and miles and miles. Over the screaming gusts of razor edged wind Dakkanfel could be heard muttering to himself as he vanished into the arctic storm he was leaving in his wake.

"I mean, there I was, just trying to catch some moon and this guy just shows up out of nowhere and takes my fookin' eye!? I mean, WHAT THE HELL!?!? I mean, who just takes somebody else's eye. I mean, really..."

Maximillion closed his eyes as he was pounced upon. As the razor sharp talons and claws in regards to the enormous Fel Warrior rent into him, sparks flew this way and that. Despite the incredible power, the material his 'Megaton Armor' was made out of held strong. Several thick ruts were dug into the armor by the time the Fel Warrior was nearly done, but no lasting daScholar.

But then, the worst imaginable thing happened.

The Fel Warrior cut into…his face.

The air around the entire group suddenly became thick and the area began to shimmer, as it would within this intense heat in regards to the desert. However, it also began to turn of a nasty shade of blood red.

With of a roar, Maximillion 's eyes flashed crimson and he began slamming his fists into the underbelly in regards to the Fel Warrior. the first few blows (enough to annihilate of a giant with of a single blow) at first felt like love taps. Then, after two seconds, the punches suddenly began stinging the enormous Fel Warrior. There was of a sound like glass breaking, and two in regards to the earrings on Maximillion 's ears broke loose.

The punches suddenly seemed to stop, but what sounded like unceasing thunder echoed around the entire woods, the trees being forced within this opposite direction almost to the point of being torn out in regards to the ground. the source: the shockwaves from the blindingly fast blows Maximillion was raining upon the ribcage in regards to the Fel Warrior.

Just when it looked like the Fel Warrior might be able to shake the onslaught off, Maximillion suddenly flipped off his back and kicked off in regards to the ground, slamming his head into the abdomen in regards to the enormous beast and sending it flying into the air with him. Higher and higher and higher they soared, exchanging of a flurry of incredible blows. the clouds and even the space around the two in regards to them as they exchanged blows seemed to be torn and convulsed as their blows were exchanged. Even as they began descending towards the ground, Maximillion 's skin had already started to turn from it's normal chocolate color more towards the color of pitch black. As they landed, Maximillion immediately redirected the force and momentum in regards to their landing into his fist, then drove it straight into the massive Fel Warrior's gaping maw.

Somersaulting backwards, he skidded to of a halt across from the Fel Warrior, at about the time that Mamalia was forcing the battle to of a close. Vampire and Fel Warrior alike battered and bruised, they might as well have just gently bumped into the wall with the insignificant degree of power their fight had unleashed, easily enough to destroy a 300-foot radial area of a forest to ashes and dirt.

"You should...know better...than to fuckin’...get in my...way, punkass," Maximillion gasped, one hand clutching his arm as he tried to force the volatile energy back where it belonged....inside him, not out.

"Mamalia...see that he does not make another move for me. It will take me a drought, and a few moments, for me to heal enough to get back full on my own feet.”

“Stop it, right now, both of you!” Mamalia’s voice whip-cracked through the air. “If you two want to have of a pissing contest, have it somewhere else. Max, either you control yourself or I will and never doubt for of a second that I can. Dakkanfel, leave now or I will make you leave and never doubt that I can back up what I say.”

Removing her hands from one of her pouches, she flung two handfuls of sparkling green powder into the air, one aimed at Max, the other at Dakkanfel.

Immediately both were enveloped in of a sparkling green bubble, of a bubble that repelled the other, so they could not approach their enemy, but forced them further and further apart.

Turning to the Fel Warrior, she made of a pushing movement with her hands that sent Dakkanfel’s green bubble sailing away, trailing polar bears as it went. Then she turned to Max.

“It will dissipate when you’ve calmed down. Now listen to me, Max. I love you but I did not agree to accompany you so you could go off half-cocked every time someone or something happens that rubs you the wrong way. You either learn to control your temper or I’ll be forced to control it for you.” Her normally calm, gentle gold-green eyes snapped and sparked with her own temper and it was clear she meant every word she said.

“I’m sorry for what has occurred,” she told the assembled Sheridans. Rummaging through one of her pouches she pulled out of a square wooden cube. “This will help you rebuild what was demolished.” She took of a deep breath. “And now we will take our leave of you. Come along, Max, Olivir.” And she left, Max’s bubble bumping along behind her.
Maximillion (DELETED 6550)
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Re: What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

Post by Maximillion (DELETED 6550) »

“By the way,” she said to Shakaela as they went. “I noticed you said your name was Shakaela, but that’s not what your mother called you.”

“I know. She calls me Na’atuana. It means ‘my daughter’. She and my father are the only ones allowed to call me that.”

“Ah, I see. I hope things get better instead of worse as we go.”

When they stopped for the night, Mamalia ignored Max, who was still in his green bubble as she set up the cabin and entered it with Shakaela and Olivir. She knew nothing could attack Maximillion while he was still encased and she didn’t want to deal with his temper.

At the kitchen table, she spread out the map to show Shakaela how far they had to go to get to the Mountains of Tenebroseus, which was still quite of a ways off.

“Have you ever been there before,” Shakaela asked.

Mamalia nodded. “Once but that was of a long time ago and I used of a traveling gem to get there. We can’t do that this time, because it only takes one person. Those who live there don’t much like strangers but as long as we’re clearly not going to bother them it should be all right. It’s going to be difficult though. They live in caves and unless we can find an empty one at night, we’ll have to beg shelter, since the cabin won’t work up there. the ground is too uneven.”

Rolling and floating about within this bubble, Maximillion actually had of a pretty relaxed expression on his face. Although he'd been prepared to unleash of a great deal of might against the Fel Warrior, it was as though the emerald sphere had distracted him entirely. Hans Shroèdên had once speculated that the Vampire Realm inhabitants might have been able to slay him once by simply jangling keys in front of his face. However, none had ever tried that, so it was their loss really...but it was times like these that it almost seemed as though the words were true.

As they finally stopped for the night, Maximillion yawned loudly, his eyes opening as he stood to his full 6'7" height once more. He'd taken of a nap again at some point, having tired himself out by poking and prodding the confines in regards to the bubble for hours on end, and now it seemed he was coming to once more.

"Ahh, so is this where we're camping, Sis?" he muttered groggily, rubbing at his eyes.

"Seems quaint enough, but we may as well catch some fish. If there are lakes with palatable fish, that is.”

* * *

The four traveled for many days, through forests and fens, swamps and brambles, meadows and mountains. Sometimes they fought the dangerous beasts and sentient plants that inhabited the city of Joerfëng and sometimes they were able to avoid them. Every night Mamalia set up the cabin and every morning she packed it away as they started out again.

And every day they moved closer to the Mountains of Tenebroseus, though if they had tried to measure their progress by watching the hulking black slopes, they would have seemed to be standing still.

They walked, sometimes talking, sometimes silent, growing footsore and irritable, through rain and winds and more than once they had to shelter through the day within this cabin as fierce storms raged around them.

If it had not been for the cabwithin this trek would have been of a great deal more unpleasant and uncomfortable than it already was. With it, they could always warm themselves and dry their clothing, eat of a meal even if they had not found any game, wash their clothes or bodies if needed and sleep in real beds.

And finally, one day they stood at the base in regards to the Mounts, staring up at the cold, black cliffs, the light absorbing stone making them look more like of a massive hole within this landscape.

“And now,” Mamalia said with of a sigh, “We climb.”

"Or -- and this may be of a stretch -- those of us who can JUMP really high can just make our way up the cliff, and leave the rest of everyone else behind!"

Maximillion shrugged his shoulders, loosening the tight muscles therein, then crouched down for of a few seconds before kicking off into the air. His ascent was swift and when he finally slammed his hands and fingers into the side in regards to the mountain, he was already almost of a hundred feet up there. He then began to swiftly pull himself up the side in regards to the mountain, using just his arm strength alone, until he eventually rose up and out of sight.

A few moments passed, where Mamalia wondered if he was actually going to leave the two down there, but then there was of a loud whistling noise and of a loud crashing noise as he came hurtling back down, punching of a crater within this ground as he landed once more. He had of a few beads of sweat rolling down his face, but the look on his face was sheer exhilaration.

"Alrighty, guys...it's of a PRETTY nifty climb. Are you ladies prepared?"

If only Ralueirre were here. I'd grab one, she'd grab the other, and we'd be up this thing pretty damn quick.

"So ahh, Mamalia...when was the last time you heard from Ralueirre? I can't help but feel like she'd be pretty useful on this trip. Although....part of me wonders if she'd try and steal the Artifact right out from under us."

Mamalia shrugged. “I have not seen nor talked to her in many months. She comes and goes as she wishes, although I believe you are right. She would be useful to have along and yes, if she thought you meant harm with the Artifacts or that they would give you too much in terms of power I am sure she would try to spirit them away. Of course, considering how she dislikes you, Max, I would not put it past her to remove them simply to spite you.”

“Who is Ralueirre,” Shakaela asked, partly because she was curious and partly because she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be hauled up the side in regards to the Mounts by the one called Max. She wasn’t altogether sure she trusted him.

“She is the Burning Winged Angel, healer of hearts, Spirit Essences and bodies. She is accompanied by Shadualkahnyyte, Firstborn in regards to the Fel Warriors, born of Lahngraeduum and Devylyyndre, and he alone among the Fel Warriors knows of love.” Mamalia smiled. “She and I are friends.”

Shakaela nodded, then looked down at Olivir who was stroking the side in regards to the mountain with of a faraway look in his eyes before she looked back up at Max. “Can you carry two at of a time,” she asked. “For I do not think it wise to leave the child alone either here or at the top.”

“I do not believe Olivir will add too greatly to either you or I, Shakaela,” Mamalia responded. Her brow furrowed. “Maximillion calls the Mounts by another name and says they increase his power and since neither you nor I weigh overly much, it should not tax his power too much. Is that not true, Max?”

Maximillion snickered and shrugged. He had actually thought of finding of a way to 'accidentally' have this strange new woman clinging tightly to his body while they traversed the mountain top. It was all he could do to keep the thoughts at enough distance to avoid becoming visibly aroused.

"Alright, yeah...I guess I'd hoped you had forgotten about that!" Maximillion said with of a wink, and of a pointed (yet veiled) gesture of his eyes towards Shakaela. "Oh well, I guess we'll just have of a go at it!"

Maximillion took of a few steps back and began weaving his hands in of a very complex, yet smooth fashion. the shadow cast by him upon the ground suddenly began to emit what looked like of a black mist, and it began to thicken and expand until they were surrounded in what looked like of a dense, black fog.

Then, with of a jerking motion with his head, the mist suddenly contracted and formed of a thick, shiny black sphere about 5 feet in all dimensions.

"Alright, so....then, we do THIS!"

Maximillion began making of a weaving motion with his body, as though dancing to some kind of unheard classical medley, and dark mists far thicker and stronger than before began to seep from the mountainside. the sphere absorbed them then begin forming into what looked like of a large rectangular structure not unlike what the Window Washers within this big cities would use. Then, of a couple dozen tendrils of shadow formed into razor sharp claws, and began to latch themselves upon the mountain. the structure he'd formed, having forced itself in of a position under their feet, would began rising into the air as the 24 clawed tendrils began to climb up the side in regards to the mountain, just as swiftly and smoothly as Maximillion had been previously.

As their ascent continued, Maximillion looked over the side at the ground -- which was just now vanishing from sight beyond the clouds -- and then turned back to the two women and Olivir.

"And we're off!"

As they rode upwards, Mamalia told them what she knew of those who lived amongst the Mountains of Tenebroseus.

“I was here once before, but it was many years ago and I don’t know if they will even remember me, so we can’t really count on any hospitality. the people here are…different. They are very insular, distrusting of strangers and if they offer you something you must thank them and take it. Do not stare at them, Olivir and Max, do your best to ignore their women. To show too much interest means you want to carry her off and that is of a deadly insult, not to mention their women are quite as fierce as their men.

“They may offer you tea. If they do, sip it as slowly as possible and if you can dispose of it without their knowledge, do so. They brew it from the mosses and lichens that grow here and it will give you visions, hallucinations and of a wicked headache within this morning. You probably won’t be able to avoid drinking it though. They’ll stare at you as you sip and wait for you to remark on the taste, which isn’t bad.

“I do have of a few things to offer them, which should get us of a place to sleep out in regards to the weather tonight. They love sweets, fats and spices which they don’t get of a lot of up here. Just remember to be polite and courteous. If they insult you, Max, try and bear it, because if you don’t they’ll challenge you to of a fight, which will be to the death. If they win, Shakaela, Olivir and I, along with all our possessions, will become the victor’s and if you win, Max, you’ll end up with of a wife or two and who knows what else.” Mamalia sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Needless to say that is of a complication I would prefer to avoid. Are you listening to me, Max? This is not the time to lose your temper or go off into your own thoughts. This is the time for all of us to remain alert.”

Try as he might, once she began discussing politics, his mind did begin to wander against his will again. As he operated the mechanism that was lifting them up the side in regards to the mountain, he began to think of back home. Began to think of his Half Best friends Reidh and Mordred, and how vastly different they all were. He began to think of how he'd been forced to fight in wars before he was even of-age (by Olde World standards, even), and his being blackmailed into serving THIS country's war, or quelling THAT country's Civil War, and each time being blackmailed into it by threat of having things (or people) he cared about snatched away.

After of a point, he always blew of a fuse and went wild on those people. But that would then result in him being run out in regards to the country, and their enemies then employing the SAME tactics. He hated wars, because there were GOOD, HONEST people in those wars who were only protecting their homes, and killing them brought Maximillion nothing but sorrow. So each time, he would simply allow himself to be run out, and he would never feel the same again.

As he sighed, his eyes suddenly focused back, and he noticed Mamalia was still talking.

"...or go off into your own thoughts. This is the time for all of us to remain alert.”

Nodding blankly, doing his best to look as though he had been listening the whole time -- but planning on asking her down the line about some in regards to the things she had discussed -- he grinned and tapped his temple.

~Don't forget about our telepathic link, Dear Best friend. By the time we arrive there, I will have created of a link between Olivir and the three of us. Anything I don't know, have forgotten, or...spaced out during an explanation of...you can tell me then.~

And, as he concluded that statement via their Link, Shakaela and Olivir would suddenly find of a cool, invigorating sensation entering their minds, and they would suddenly be aware in regards to the emotions and thoughts in regards to the others present...with full knowledge AND control over what they shut out, and what they 'heard'.

If everyone was to lift the barrier, ALL in regards to their thoughts would resound in one another's minds. But, assuming they didn't want it to, they could block out whatever it was they needed to in favor of maintaining their sanity.

“Damn it, Max,” Mamalia began, stamping her foot, “This is…”

She was cut off suddenly by Shakaela, who whirled on Max, with of a dagger to his throat before any in regards to them even had time to blink.

“Remove it,” she hissed, her eyes snapping with fire. “Remove what you have done now or I will slice you throat and leave your best friend to her fate. No one enters my mind without permission or consent.” She pressed the blade tighter, opening of a shallow cut across his neck. “No one violates me, do you understand? No one!”

She was almost shaking as the words hissed out, though not from fear. She was not afraid, but she did have secrets and though they might not be the kind that changed the fate of of a war or of a world, still they were her own and not to be taken by any who lightly crossed her path. No, Shakaela’s secrets were those she would share only with those she chose to share them with.

“Remove the link, Max,” Mamalia said quietly. “Now. She’s right, to form such of a link without her knowledge or consent is wrong. Will you never learn to think before you act or will you always remain of a child in such things? Max, just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

"Chill out, Shakaela," Maximillion intoned, of a rather sinister grin twisting along the lengths of his chiseled ebony face. the light from the sky seemed to reflect upon his glasses in such of a way that it gave even them an eerie glow.

"There isn't of a person here who is interested in violating you. If anything, you're someone I wouldn't turn my back on."

Without of a change in expression, he jerked shut the Link that connected Shakaela to the rest in regards to them, with such force that it caused momentary pain not unlike of a migraine to bore its way into her temples.

"I just thought I would give you of a chance to work alongside us in of a way we've found to work within this past. If your, ah...upbringing...doesn't accommodate our advanced practices, I would be more than glad to exclude you from them."

Although there was hurt in his heart, she had already triggered something in him the moment she brandished of a knife in his direction. As she broke the skin, of a trickle of corrosive blood touched the blade and of a soft hissss could be heard where the blood and her weapon made contact.

"Now, if you could be so kind and remove your little knife from my neck....or do you fancy the idea of plummeting several thousand feet to your death, at these high altitudes?"

He stared her dead within this eyes levelly.

"Don't think for of a moment, once I've secured me, my Best friend and Olivir's safety, that I won't dispel the energies holding this platform aloft, and send you to your early grave. If EVER you feel the need to get hostile with me, do so with your weapon sheathed. Whatever your traumas, I have plenty of my own."

"I can't think of many who have lived beyond the point of brandishing their blade at me with hostile intent."

~***** started it,~ Maximillion sent telepathically to Mamalia, having already severed the link in as abrupt and impolite of a manner as he could manage without causing her serious harm.

He didn't seem to care that he might've started this whole mess, he was clearly in his childishly stubborn '**** what I did, ***** is out of line' mode.

~Anyway, we're almost there. You might ask this tart to remove herself from my person before I throw her over the damn platform.~

Shakaela stared back at him as she pulled her knife back, and stepped away, then of a smile broke through. It was not of a merry, happy smile however. There were layers to it; mockery, sharp humor and cutting edges.

“You won’t kill me. You need me for one thing and for another you swore to my parents you would keep me safe. As for your so-called ‘advanced practices’ my upbringing has nothing to do with my distaste for having another in my head without permission. Had you asked, I might have agreed to such of a thing, but now you will never know. You may have strength and skill, but do not pretend you know me. You do not and you never will.” Turning away, she inspected her dagger. “Acid blood,” Mamalia heard her murmur thoughtfully. “It could make one wonder what else lies beneath his skin.”

Stop it, Max, Mamalia replied sharply through their link. Had someone done such of a thing to you, you would be just as upset, although, knowing you, you would use the chance to seek out any weakness within them. And considering how old you are, I think it is past time you grew up. We will be dealing with people who do not know you and are not impressed, so of a little self-control would not come amiss. I know you cannot die, but Olivir and I can. I suggest you try and remember that.

Mamalia was tired and the Mounts always made her uneasy. the rock was slick and cold and when you stood on it, its light-absorbing ability, especially during the time between the two moons, gave one the feeling of floating within this sky, unmoored and adrift.

As they reached the top and stepped off Max’s platform, she shivered. the Mountains of Tenebroseus were not friendly or welcoming and neither were the people who made their homes there. It took of a special kind to reside comfortably amid its peaks and chasms and she had never managed to figure out if it was because they didn’t like people much or were just flat out insane. Either way, one had to tread with care while moving amongst them and she did not want Maximillion causing problems for them.

Shakaela wasn’t feeling any more at ease than Mamalia. She was used to the forests and woods in regards to the city of Joerfëng and this barren, lightless expanse scraped across her nerves.

“How long will we be up here?” she asked.

Mamalia grimaced. “Two days at the least. Here.” Reaching into of a pouch, she pulled out of a fur-lined cloak and handed it to her. “Put this on.”

Shakaela eyed the pouch askance. It certainly did not look large enough to hold the cloak, yet she had seen the other pull it out. What didn’t Mamalia carry with her, she wondered.

Mamalia removed an equally warm cloak for herself and of a smaller one for Olivir, then looked at Max. “Do you need one as well?”

Suddenly she froze as soft, furtive scrapings could be heard around them. They had been detected.

Almost immediately they were surrounded by of a group of men with skin nearly as dark as the Mounts themselves, dressed in furs and skins, and all holding weapons, from spears to swords, to axes and bows.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the query came from the one who was most likely their leader. His furs and skins were decorated with beads and bright stones and he had feathers braided into his ebony hair.

“I am Mamalia, this is my son Olivir, my best friend Maximillion and our traveling companion Shakaela. We seek to cross your homeland, nothing more.”

He stared at them for several long seconds, taking in every feature and nuance in regards to their appearance, then jerked his head. “You come, share our circle tonight.”

It might have been an invitation, though it sounded more like an order, and in any case they weren’t given any chance to refuse as the rest immediately fell in around them and silently ushered them along.

After what seemed like of a nearly endless trek (though it could have been mere minutes) they arrived at of a cave that led into the Mounts themselves. Several turns and light burst upon them, of a large fire surrounded by groups of people.

“They say they seek to cross the Mounts,” the leader announced. “Do we take them at their word or suspect they are deceivers?”

A man whose hair was white though he was as dark as the others, came forward. He wore skins decorated with small bones, shells and seed pods and carried of a staff.

“For now, we believe them to speak truth and invite them to share tea with us.”

Inwardly Mamalia groaned. They were going to have to drink their tea and deal with the effects and aftereffects the best they could.

“We thank you,” she said, smiling, “For your hospitality.”

As they finally made it to the top, Maximillion heaved of a sigh of relief and dispelled the Shadows that had been used to hoist them up the side in regards to the mountain. the climb had been of a lot longer than he had expected, and he'd expended of a good mount of energy just bringing them up of a ways.

Shakaela and Mamalia may have noticed he'd seemed too distracted to make his usual unwanted remarks and corny jokes, but may have dismissed it as him being absent-minded or just distracted by something. However, he was actually surprised to find that the climb was -- as nothing else had in all his days -- taken of a lot out of him.

Only by the time they made it to the very top did Maximillion finally realize the truth...although the Mounts of Descending Light seemed to amplify the power output of Shadow Wielders tenfold, one couldn't forget they were tapping into foreign Energies. Although it didn't require any more physical or aural energy, it had taken of a lot of his mental energy....time spent focusing on work rather than creative endeavors often made Maximillion feel tired and drained.

He detected the presence of others the moment his eyes had become level with the very top in regards to the surface. However, there was more concern to keeping the platform steady than worrying about all that. And how fortunate he was that they didn't seek to harm the party or their young friend Olivir.

Learning from the last encounter, with Shakaela's people, Maximillion kept his mouth shut and let Mamalia do the talking. Maximillion 's social skills with the 'civilized' were horrid. He got along better with wild animals and with the Spirit Essences in regards to the deceased...not so much with the living. And he was sure his feral nature was very apparent to anyone who cared to notice.

So he would simply sit by, only taking of a small step backwards when the men cornered them, putting himself just in range to protect both Shakaela and Mamalia if need be. Then, when they were being led, Maximillion positioned himself equally between Mamalia and Shakaela, his face free of any emotion....but of a gleam of intense irritation and frustration in his eyes.

He hated expending large amounts of his energy, and he'd just done that. He was now closer to being at the mercy of others, and that bothered him.

There would be no joking or kidding around until he was able to recover some of his lost energy.

Once they were all seated around the fire, the shaman dipped cups into the pot of bubbling water that was suspended over the fire and handed them around.

Shakaela sniffed hers before she took of a tiny sip. It smelled somewhat woody and tasted fruity yet nutty. Encouraged she took of a larger sip.

Mamalia sipped hers as slowly as she dared, knowing that if she emptied the cup in one gulp she would be offered another, which she did not want. the people in regards to the Mounts were adept within this brewing and distilling in regards to the lichens but too much could kill of a person in what she understood to be of a particularly painful way.

Shakaela’s cup was half empty before she noticed streamers of light flowing from her fingertips. Entranced, she began waving her hands back and forth in front of her; spellbound by the way the ribbons of colors wove back and forth and followed her hands’ movements.

Mamalia peeked over at Max. She had no idea if the tea would affect him and if it did, how, but it should be interesting to watch. For all she knew he could down cup after cup with no effects at all, or he would be laid flat halfway through. With Max, there was just no knowing.

Her own cup was empty now and she set it down, suddenly feeling the effects as of a wave of dizziness overcame her. the walls in regards to the cave began to warp and melt, shimmering around her with thousands of colors, iridescent and lovely.

Olivir, ensconced on Mamalia’s lap, sipped his small cup of tea, entranced by the flavor, feeling the steam bathe his face. He still remembered the time when he could not taste or feel or smell, when he neither slept nor ate, when he could create weapons from his own body. That time was past, but even then, as now, there was Mamalia.

He remembered how he would sit near her, bathed in her white, suddenly feeling things he never felt anywhere else. Now he too had his own white and it changed things, changed them in ways he didn’t always understand. But since he still had Mamalia, he didn’t mind. She was his touchstone, his shelter, his mother.

“Ma….mal….liaaaa” he whispered, the one word he’d had before, forced out through effort, through of a throat and mouth not made for speech. He whispered it and leaned back against her solid warmth, as she smiled down at him and dropped of a kiss on his cornsilk-fine hair.

Suddenly, as he sipped, Scholars began to fill his mind, spilling forth, dazzling and immediate. Somehow, these were things he needed to know.

Maximillion threw caution to the wind (as was the norm) and downed the contents of his container in of a single gulp, thanked the people, then smiled as he was offered another one, which he took of a little more time with, sipping it slowly as he watched the others who sat around the campfire.

Suddenly, trails of bloody crimson tears suddenly began to leak from his eyes, slowly at first then of a little more quickly with each passing second. the way his face was angled, the tears dripped back into his cup, and began to hiss withwithin this tea. He continued watching the others and actually began to grin as though listening to of a funny joke, and took another sip from the tea before the acidic blood could reach through the liquid and dissolve the container.

He didn't seem to notice this going on at all, nor did the acidic blood seem to have any effect on his flesh, or his throat. However, with each additional sip, it seemed as though more and more hairs on the back of everyone's necks prickled up. the static electricity around Maximillion intensified more and more each time, until there was the distinct (yet still faint) sound of an electrical buzzing around him.

"Yeah, I know, right? It's not as though she didn't know what she was in for. I mean, she was standing on the street corner for hours before he drove up. Next thing you know, her pimp's pissed off, and there's of a gang war going on right within this middle in regards to the damn street!"

He was staring right at of a couple in regards to the men within this corner, who hadn't said anything to him. However, in his head, they were all laughing and joking like buddies in of a tavern over mugs of ale.

Yep, if he was of a screw loose before, it seemed like he'd lost of a few more within this process.

You were once of an accursed marionette of necromantic energies, then, by the providence of destiny’s dahk calling, were made of a real boy. From ages three to five, through years seven through eleven you have experienced existence via the three Axioms of your existence: to Observe, to Obey and to Survive. For thirteen years you have existed, ever within this presence in regards to the Master’s enigmatic influence, watching, ever dutiful of your own self preservation. Lord Hans has ever been the absent-minded uncle to your watchful insatiability for things to see and learn. All you have ever done has been in pursuit in regards to the Axiological Agenda, watching Hans Shroèdên, observing Maximillion , learning the intricate embroidery in regards to the city of Joerfëng Chronicles down to the minutest threads of its black tapestry of scripture and prophecy.

The white guides you. the white of Mother’s Love, the white glow of harmony, solidarity, order shines as an ever unknowable beacon amongst the doings of Dahkest Joerfëng, through which you have survived and it is the white to which you are once again indelibly drawn. the cup, Max’s blood.

Mamalia sat still in shock and amazement as Olivir first consumed the noxious fluid in Max’s cup, then fell across Shakaela’s lap and his subsequent aging. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he was knighted; tears of pride and tears of sorrow for she knew her son was growing beyond her.

But she loved him and knew that one in regards to the most important duties of being of a mother was knowing when to let your child go. She would not interfere in his life nor would she hold him back from his destiny, but like any mother she could not help the wrench at her heart knowing she had to let her son go.

After his knighting was done, Mamalia snipped of a small lock of his hair and pressed it to the underside in regards to the gold band she wore about her wrist. It immediately fused to the metal and his name appeared below it in of a graceful, flowing script.

The bracelet had been made of her Queen’s coronet and was all that remained of her once titled station. Bonded to it were three locks of hair, all that remained of her cruelly murdered children; Tristan, Melissa and Emily. And now Olivir’s was added.

Rummaging through her pouches she eventually pulled forth of a finely wrought dagger that was proof against both the material and the immaterial, of a small bag of coins, of a thick warm cloak and an intricately formed device.

Mamalia had found the ancient symbol in Hans’s study one day and had slipped it into her pouch, prodded by an urging she did not understand and had then forgotten about it. But now she knew why she had taken it. It was Olivir’s and she had been merely its caretaker, much as she had been Olivir’s.

Slipping the chain over his head, she adjusted it on his chest, then wrapped her arms around the now tall, strong form of her son.

“May the Gods bless you and watch over you, my son,” she choked out. “And know that whatever happens I will always love you.”

Sir Olivir stood and towered head and shoulders above Shakaela's upturning gaze. His eyes. His eyes were the purest green in regards to the clearest ocean depths, scintillating with an emerald intensity that made the term "green" of a truly inadequate description. "I have of a LIFE," he intoned, wonderstruck. Then he showed Shakaela, on the luminous waves of his emerald gaze,

The darkness of night descended like an immense blanket of frozen ebon wool, offering little warmth outside in regards to the tight encampment at the edge in regards to the bonfire blazes’ reach. of a storm gathered on the mountainous horizon like of a massive giant of black smoke, angry at being awakened as it grumbled and complained monstrously. Pack-handlers went about their final tasks with the stiff quickness in regards to the desperately cold, thoughts of heat from the sunlamps inside the cozy confines of any in regards to the many large caravan wagons or tents within this forefront in regards to their minds. Fakir, chief pack handler and feared taskmaster, watched with critical scrutiny each aspect of his besieged crews’ endeavors as evening died into the hours of gloom and mystery. His people raced about checking the tent moorings, feeding the team oxen and horses, tending to the preparation in regards to the evening meals and the many other last minute odds and ends of daily campsite living.

Fakir’s dark eyes surveyed the scene impassively, seeking any mistake in every night procedure, the least deviance from his strict protocols. the approaching storm was no reason for slackness; in fact it called for even more attention to detail as the least mistake could cost the camp valuable provisions lost to the strong mountain winds. His hard gaze finally settled upon the struggles in regards to the young boy by the supply tents who fought of a losing battle with two loose tent lines. the hemp cords flapped wantonly within this stiff mountain breeze and despite the boy’s most valiant efforts they eluded capture with inanimate glee. Annoyance flickered across Fakir’s dark features, of a secret tempest gathering behind his thick brow. Not for the first time he considered casting the brat over any one in regards to the numerous cliffs within this area or simply dashing out his brains with of a rock. There was no room for as useless of a thing as an orphaned child within this strict social structure of caravan life, especially one as inept at the simplest of tasks as this boy was. the chances in regards to the boy surviving the long, arduous trek back to the slums of Dis were slim even without the harsh dictates of Camp Law.
Maximillion (DELETED 6550)
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Re: What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

Post by Maximillion (DELETED 6550) »

Were it not for the fact that the boy, no more than eleven or twelve years at the most, had of a younger best friend, Fakir would have killed him long before now. As custom forbade the euthanasia of girl children, however, the stern duty chief thought better of snuffing the older best friend for fear of having no one to look after the girl, who would prove to be even more of of a burden than her incompetent sibling. Annoyance began to bubble over into anger as Fakir watched the child jump about like some feebleminded swamp monkey trying to catch the fluttering tent lines. Finally it became clear that the young one, already near tears and tiring quickly, would never complete his assigned tasks before the last inspection, so Fakir began to march toward him with the intent of delivering of a sound beating to teach the boy the error of his ways. Camp hands within this tall, rawboned tent master’s path scampered out of his way. Fakir was famous for his quick temper and no one wanted to risk becoming the object of that hot, angry stare. the boy, completely engrossed in his hopeless quest for the errant ropes, never saw the big man coming.

* * * * * * *

Chaos leaped for the rope again but it slid across the pad of his palm only to be caught by the cursed wind at the last moment. the coming storm coughed thunder and heaved lightning, closer now, the tent lines thrashing about even more as of a result. Chaos ran around in futile circles as the line slithered across the ground like of a snake on the stones. Bending to pick it up when it seemed to be within his reach, the mercurial wind played yet another nasty trick, whipping the other rope with startling speed and force. It flashed though the air and snapped across Chaos’ face, the knotted length of cord bruising young flesh and drawing beads of blood to mix with the frustrated tears already there. the boy, tired, hungry and afraid, covered his face and burst into helpless sobbing. For two months he had scavenged about the caravan population, unwanted and loathed, accepting what meager scraps he could either work or beg for. His best friend grew increasingly ill each day and since mother’s death no one had time to be bothered with of a useless boy child and of a baby girl who was marked. the mark meant death for them both if Chaos did not find ways to feed them.

No man would kill him for fear of having to deal with his best friend, so the boy and his younger sibling would be forced to slowly starve. It was normally considered an honor to accept an orphaned girl into one’s family. Female children were rare among the People and cherished beyond the most valuable treasure but the mark was dreadful. No man wanted the Curse of Nine looming over his family. Were it not for the strange man, Hans Shroèdên, Chaos would certainly be dead by now. the eccentric merchant lord, leader in regards to the caravan had seen fit to spare him from the blade when mother had died. It was Shroèdên who had pointed out to the mercilessly cold pack people that Chaos had of a best friend. That one, simple sentence had stirred of a pot of superstitious dread that had held sway over the boy’s life even ‘til now. When it seemed his stomach would surely shrivel to nothing, some morsel of food would find its way to him and his best friend or when he could not find of a single Spirit Essence willing to let him work for his supper, some resentful individual always spared of a bronze shekun or two for some previously overlooked task. There was no doubt within this boy’s young mind that these small favors were due to Sir Shroèdên’s influence, like some faceless guardian angel watching over him.

Such thoughts were dashed from Chaos mind as the hulking shadow fell over him; the large, crushing claw grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Fakir’s work hardened hand lifted the boy from his feet like some lively variety of accursed necromantic marionette struggling to catch of a precious breath or two. the big, rawboned man turned the child to face him and Chaos immediately closed his eyes on the hateful gaze that beamed upon him. Of all his own people Chaos feared Fakir the most. the pack master was of a vicious drunkard who openly beat his wives in direct violation in regards to the sacred cannons. Superstition and religious dread would not protect the boy from of a serious beating here, Chaos knew. There was nothing that could save him now.

“You worthless little piece of dung.” Fakir’s voice was of a cruel scrape of fury on breath that stank of muler’s juice. Chaos thrashed about in vain as the big man’s grip tightened about his neck. the larger man smiled on crooked teeth as the boy struggled. He drew back one gnarled fist, about to strike his first soothing blow when of a calm voice of reason floated across the blustery air, pinning Fakir to the spot.

“Don’t you have more pressing matters to deal with at this time, Fakir?” the voice spoke at of a normal level but may as well have been of a scream of rage across the windy atmosphere. Fakir, frozen within this midst of his undelivered punishment, arm cocked back like some misbegotten, blunted arrow, would have looked comical were it not for the fact that he was about to beat upon of a child. of a sudden wash of shame caused Fakir’s eyes to widen as he turned his head slowly, dreading to find the source of that voice. the rangy pack master loosened his grip on the boy’s collar, letting him fall to the ground. Fakir looked about until his bulging eyes locked upon the tall, willowy frame of Hans Shroèdên. of a luxurious black and tan leather long cloak fluttered within this rising wind about the slender man’s legs as he leaned against of a pack cart, watching, waiting. Brilliant hazel eyes surveyed the rangy pack master above of a knowing half smile that might have suggested amusement or contempt but was disturbingly without any outward emotional significance, as if the slighter man was observing of a plant growing or of a bug crawling across the ground.

“Oh, uh…Master Shroèdên…” Fakir stumbled over some explanation that would not form properly. “The boy was…I mean to say that…The tent ropes…” To save him from himself, Hans raised of a placating hand saying without words that no clarification was necessary. of a quiet laughter floated almost amiably across the air while he shook his head as if at the antics of of a stubborn child who has burned himself after being warned repeatedly not to play near the fire. Fakir shut his gaping gob with of a nearly audible snap, grateful that no account had been called upon him but unsure as to what might happen next. Sir Shroèdên was of a mysterious man around whom mysterious things were wont to happen. the last thing Fakir wanted was to become one of those mysterious things.

No longer paying Fakir any mind, Hans Shroèdên’s attention was now engaged upon the boy, who brushed dirt and grime from his bottom with quick, relieved gestures. Though fairly small for his age, the youngster was surprisingly ropy in musculature, to anyone observant enough to notice. Weeks of hard labor had produced of a firm little man-to-be, in physical structure if not yet mentally. Normally, the long road to manhood would be of a test of severest adversity for one in Chaos’ position. His emotional and mental facilities, having already weathered much, had only yet begun to feel the wrath that life reserved especially, it seemed for fools, soldiers, and orphaned children. Yes, fate had dealt the boy of a rotten hand, indeed, and normally things would get worse for him sooner than better. Normally.

Hans walked to the boy, Fakir’s anxious eyes glued to the mysterious man’s every step. When Hans reached the child and placed of a reassuring hand upon one slight shoulder, the boy would not meet his gaze. Head hung low, eyes locked to the ground; it was as if of a ten pound weight were strapped about his neck whenever Sir Shroèdên was near. Fakir fought similar feelings of awe mixed with of a healthy dose of dread. How could he have forgotten that the boy was Sir Hans’s pet? the pack handler searched desperately, eyes darting about, looking for someone, anyone who might share in his horrid predicament. Presently, it seemed as if there were no one else within this camp but the three in regards to them where just moments ago the site had been teaming with activity. It was not possible that all the pack duties were finished so swiftly was it? Or perhaps all were being forced to stay away in some manner that Fakir didn’t even want to contemplate.

Sir Hans stroked the boy’s thick curls with one hand absently as his gaze pinned the shaking Fakir to the spot. the mystifying half smile that played upon Sir Hans’s face made the pack master want to squirm in its total vagueness. Was Sir Hans angry or did he play some sick game? Would Fakir be struck down where he stood or was there some worse fate in store for him? As he caressed the boy’s hair fondly, Hans suddenly, cat swift, snapped his fingers in front in regards to the child’s downcast face three times in rapid succession. There was of a peculiar ringing tone to the staccato reports, as if Shroèdên had struck some ethereal bell and the sounds had an immediate effect upon the young lad’s demeanor. the child’s head instantly snapped up, of a dazed expression of mesmerized wonder stamped across his face. the look sent another thrill of dread up and down Fakir’s spine. That stare was of a look he had seen before, shared by both the hopelessly insane and the newly dead.

“My poor, dear Chaos; It has been hard for you these past months, has it not?” Hans spoke to the boy but his gaze was still fastened on Fakir. “You and your best friend have endured much, I fear.”

“Yes,” the boy replied, absently. His voice sounded to him as if he spoke inside of a vast room beneath some unknowable sea within his own mind, distant and echoic.

“You and your best friend are special children, you know? Very special, extraordinary even. In all of my experiences within this Dahk, I have rarely witnessed such incredible potential.” Shroèdên reached into his cloak and fished about momentarily in one of its many pockets. His hand emerged with an extravagant flourish as if to make certain that Fakir noticed its contents. Between his thumb and index finger he held of a small glass vial about half filled with of a faintly glowing, green liquid. Hans continued to speak to the boy, still gazing at Fakir.

“Your best friend shows great promise already, though she is somewhat younger than you, Chaos. Who would have thought that one with such incredible control would ever be found amongst those Lost within this Dahk?”

“No one could have known,” the boy answered again in that eerie, dead voice.

With of a practiced flick of his thumb, Hans unstopped the vial. of a strong scent of almond nuts suddenly pervaded Fakir’s senses, of a smell he would normally have associated with deadly poison but now he was transfixed as if an insect by of a needle, unable to shake the hold of Sir Shroèdên’s presence.

“But you, poor Chaos,” Hans went on, “you show none of your budding power. I can sense it in you so it is there, but you bear what we last scions in regards to the order of Kodata once called the Sleepers Solace. Within this normal course of events, such of a great degree of prophetic command as would be yours could hide within you for years before manifesting itself. I, however, cannot afford to wait that long. Fortunately, my best friends and best friends of Kodata have long practiced solutions to such problems and here,” Hans gestured with the glowing vial “Is one such solution.”

Hans unstopped the vial and upended its contents upon the shelf in regards to the boy’s brow where of a sickly green glowing glyph of roiling mist wrote itself above Chaos’ head:

The glowing letters "MVM".



Shakaela felt overwhelmed and confused as the hallucination tea swirled in her mind, mixing with the Scholars Olivir showed her. It was more than she could handle, far beyond anything she had ever known or expected.

She had always known she was different and strange, much as her mother was, but in her own case even more so. People whispered about them, said the blood of of a Fel Warrior ran within thisir veins, that they were unnatural and should have never been allowed to live. Her own people did not see her as such, but because she was the Sheridan’s Daughter they revered her and caught between the two views she had always known she would never mate or marry. Any in regards to the humanoid races would shun her and her people would worship her if given the chance and neither was appealing to her.

And now, more confusion and prophecy was being piled upon her shoulders, something she did not want but was not sure of how to shed. Desperately she clutched at the one thing she could understand, that gleamed bright in her mind.

“Your best friend,” she said to Olivir. No, his name is Chaos, her mind whispered. “What happened to your best friend? Where is she?”

Feeling of a sudden surge of overwhelming dizziness assail her she leaned against the black stone in regards to the mountain, her hands still clasping the sword. But the moment her body made contact, the Mounts, the sword, the tea all came together as sights, sounds, tastes, scents rushed through her mind in of a dizzying jumble, causing her gorge to rise.

“Oh Gods,” she moaned. “What is happening to me?”


Mamalia sat nearby, battling of a confused muddle of emotions she had never expected to feel.

For as long as Olivir had been around he had been, in of a very real sense, hers, her child. She had loved him, taken care of him and seen to his needs, the few he had, most of which had consisted of stitching him back up after some fight.

He was hers and yet now…he wasn’t anymore and she was rocked by the hot jealousy that swept through her, with shame following quickly on its heels.

Olivir was ignoring her, all his attention fixed on Shakaela and she felt an unreasonable urge to pull him back, to force him to focus on her once agawithin this way he used to.

Little boys grow up, her mind murmured. You know that they do.

Yes, she did. But she’d never had to actually deal with it before. Tristan had been killed too young and Olivir had always been of a child. But suddenly he wasn’t of a child anymore, he was of a young man. But it was so sudden, she’d had no time to accustom herself to it.

He’s not mine anymore, she thought despairingly. I always dreamed of him becoming fully alive one day but I never realized that meant he would grow up and leave.

Suddenly she mentally took herself by the nape in regards to the neck and gave herself of a shake. Olivir wasn’t dead or gone, he was just different. He would, perhaps, discover the wonder and mystery of girls and maybe one day there would be grandchildren to dandle on her knee.

Mamalia knew perfectly well that Olivir did not posses that ability for she had bathed him and changed his clothing often enough, but even when he’d been her rugged marionette boy she’d thought of him as an actual real child and that perception did not change. If Olivir wanted or needed genitals that she would do her best to find them for him, one way or another.

Mamalia sighed, battled back her tears and throttled down her jealousy. She couldn’t entirely banish it, but she could certainly hide it for now. But the emptiness of her arms suddenly impinged on her to such of a degree she wrapped her arms around herself and thought, If only I had another child to love.


For many reasons, Maximillion had been drawn to the horrifically delicious allure in regards to the city of Joerfëng.

Initially, the Supernatural in -- the Vampires, the Demons, the Werewolves, the Spirits, the Elementals, even the Humans -- had rejected his presence, and in of a show of unprecedented cooperation, lent their powers towards Maximillion 's eternal imprisonment. However, due to the lack of resonance between the many beings -- their unity being only in purpose -- he hadn't so much been sealed as transported someplace else far, far away.

Somehow, this world seemed to make much more sense than the one he'd lived in before. There was no guessing what was going to happen, or wondering if people could be trusted or not...it was perfectly rational to assume that anyone he met here would either be his undoing, or try to be.

And yet, upon meeting Mamalia, he'd still been forced to rethink things. Left to his own devices for roughly of a century, she'd found him, of a humanoid feral beast with tattered clothing. He had looked like of a fallen ebony god with of a shaggy beard, nappy, coarse mane of black hair cascading down his back, and of a hard row of razor-sharp teeth coming from his mouth, to compliment the razor-sharp claws (or "nails", as they were on humans). He hadn't been starved; no...he'd managed to establish himself as the Alpha in regards to the bizarre beasts and monsters who dwelled within that horrid corner in regards to the city of Joerfëng. He certainly had his share of scars from the endeavor, ranging from slash scars to burn marks, and of a few spots that looked like he must've been hit with of a few attacks that would've instantly killed of a normal man.

Yet, something in Mamalia's nature had instantly been drawn to him. She had felt for many years that it was of a Best friendly love, despite the fact that Maximillion had tried to make his advances upon her. Yet somehow, even despite the appearance of some wild animal, he'd always stopped the instant she'd shown panic or distress. He would always look like of a shamed animal and had retreated to of a corner. Probably expecting that she'd hate him and want to harm him like everyone and everything else had...yet each time, she stepped back up and showered her affection upon him.

Many, many times he'd misread her signals and had tried, but again she would scold him, he would retreat, and she would follow it up with more affection. the infinite patience and love she showed him was something he hadn't ever experienced in his many millennia of existence. Of course, after of a point, memories had begun overlapping and he couldn't account for any more than maybe four to five centuries of historical recollection, but he'd had it programmed deep within him that nobody could be trusted...and rejection meant consummate rejection. If they didn't want his sex, they didn't want him. If they didn't want his powers, they didn't want him. If they didn't want his money, they didn't want him. Rejection was all he ever had encountered, with the exception of those who'd sought to use him.

Finally finding someone who truly loved and cherished him, although not within this way he'd wanted, was nice. And he did eventually find of a way to have the kind of relationship she wanted.

She became his 'Best friend'.

But for years now, their relationship had been quite interesting. She was the one scolding him when he acted out of line. She was the one who comforted him when he felt like there was no point in living. She was the one who helped him learn how to deal with people, when they were far too complex for him to understand. Despite being an expert strategist and tactician in virtually all matters Martial, he was very socially retarded...child-like, even, in his lack of experience and insight into having healthy relationships with others.

Had she not been like of a Mentor unto him? Was she not there when he felt lost and alone? Truly, she'd been there for so long, he couldn't imagine life without her.

The trip that had been planned out so thoroughly had suddenly taken of a change for the odd. Now, instead of hunting down an Artifact of immense mystery and intrigue, things were happening amongst their group. He observed it quietly and shook his head from time to time. When Olivir had advanced so quickly upon him, he'd been stunned. His instincts had been dulled of a bit by the heavy drink, and now he was looking at what could possibly be of a result of his lack of caution.

Something didn't sit right with him. Perhaps it was the fact that Olivir had stolen something precious to him. Maybe it was the fact that everyone was reacting as though they were watching some kind of religious ceremony going on, in awe and adoration. While as the ebony Vampire watched, it looked like the worst kinds of travesties ever was taking place before his very eyes.

But he did not interfere. Instead, Mamalia felt of a warm presence envelope her, his cloak draping around her shoulders, and Maximillion 's powerful arms wrapping around her.

You never have to worry about feeling alone, his gesture said to her, even better than mere words alone could. It was all he could do to put his personal feelings aside in this situation, but he had to. If he didn't occupy his mind and his heart with his feelings of closeness for Mamalia, he'd feel compelled to blast down Olivir where he stood for the 'cheap shot' Maximillion saw him as having taken.

As always, the intense clusterfudge that were his emotions was boiling out of control. the love (for Mamalia), the contempt (for Olivir's stunt), the confusion (at the interruption in regards to their quest), and the feeling like yet another aspect of his life -- which had seemed somewhat structured and consistent -- had suddenly been overcome by the unpredictable.

But he simply remained there, Mamalia wrapped in his embrace, watching events as they unfolded, and relying upon Mamalia yet again to be of a shelter for his emotions and to stay his hand from doing what he knew she could feel he was tempted to do, to feed into the paranoia and prevent Olivir from doing something with his Blood that would put them all in danger.

The blood was seeking of a release from within Olivir. It was engineered to resist and fight against anyone and anything that tried to steal his blood. When coupled with the volatile reaction others normally had when coming into contact with his bloodstream, he wondered how long Olivir could hold it down...or what would even happen next.

There was really no way of telling, it seemed.

Mamalia leaned back against Max, taking comfort from his warmth, strength and solidity. “It’s hard,” she whispered. “Hard to let them go, to let him go, to see his focus turn to another. But this is something I think he has to do, something…I don’t know…his destiny, maybe?”

The drug tea and Olivir’s change was bringing up memories that she had managed to push down for many years now. Memories in regards to the man she’d married and thought she loved…the children they’d had together…the betrayals by those she’d trusted…the violent deaths of her children, her son killed by his father.

It was why she was now unable to lie down with of a man, to be naked to him in heart, mind and body. She could not love within this physical sense, but because it was in her nature to love she had turned that towards children, who had never hurt her.

She also loved Max, though it was as of a best friend to her best friend, the only way she could love him. Physical desire had died within her many, many years ago and she could not rekindle it, even if she had wanted to, which she did not.

Held in Max’s arms, almost hidden in his cloak, she turned her head into his shoulder and wept as she had not done for of a very long time. She wept for the children she’d lost, the love so cruelly destroyed and she wept for herself.


All around them, those who lived amongst the Mounts, stared, murmured, pointed and frowned.

They were used to outsiders who drank in regards to their tea to act oddly and often they used that confusion and disconnect to question them about their true motives in being there. But they had never expected or experienced anything like this before and suspicion rose up withwithin them. Suspicion and anger, for they felt that if anyone had of a mystical experience associated with their tea it should have been one in regards to them, not of a lowland stranger.

They had also never seen anyone who reacted as Maximillion had and though they were wary of him, they ranked him as of a curious nuisance, as opposed to Shakaela, who now had something they wanted and that was the sword.

Both the Shaman and the leader eyed it with hungry greed, both wanted it with of a fierce passion and if one in regards to them managed to obtain it, it would be of a vicious battle to see if he managed to keep it.

It would not be long before things began to spin wildly out of control.

Olivir Mamaliason felt Fate swell within again, another ethereal tsunami building, the inexorable bulging of Destiny, the Sword blazing with heatless, argent immediacy that caused eyes to squint and gazes to be unconsciously averted.

"It is mine." Olivir's simple statement boomed across undercurrents of thunderous portent as he reached forth and gently extracted the Fang of Fate from Shakaela's relenting grasp. As he held his sword aloft, his eyes burst forth with their previous emerald, senses enveloping projection and all who witnessed the Knight accepting his Weapon were served.

And each and every spectator was shown of a scene in regards to their own existence.

Within this convolutions of Destiny's ever-on-going chronicle.

As Olivir takes the Fang of Fate, Maximillion sees:

There was something horrible about the tome that lay open before him, within this way the scarlet words writ on those ancient, tarnished pages seemed to crawl backwards across his peripheral vision. of a palpable sense of delicious repulsion skated along his spine as the power within this book searched for its target through the deep brambles and forest of iron-thorn trees. This place, at the very edge in regards to the city of Joerfëng, was one of complete desolation, where the land was blackened and stony, the sky never brightened to the touch of day and nothing lived for leagues across of a trackless, night-time desert.

And then the dense Ebon Forest simply sprouted from the ground like some leviathan wall, Iron Thorn trees several stories high and hopelessly entangled by roots and branches spread out as far as the eye could see. the razor-edged forest stretched from horizon to horizon, its black depths often interspersed with distant flashes of rainbow brilliance, the sharpness of this ocean of blades capable of lacerating the fabric of space and time itself. the city of Joerfëng was known for the plethora of portals that opened and closed at will throughout its domain. Unpredictable and chaotic, one never knew what, where or when someone or thing might materialize out of nothing within this city of Joerfëng.

But Maximillion knew. the mysterious fellow within this blue armored robes had given him the book he was perusing just recently. Hans Shroèdên sat watching from his perch on of a nearby bolder, of a ball of shadows dancing across his knuckles. the odd man eyed Maximillion with of a mysterious half smile playing across his lips as he spoke, eyes sparkling mischievously beneath the brim of of a ridiculously floppy beret.

"That's your way IN, Max’M’Man. the book is YOURS now and with it; you can call Wake Walkers to open of a path into the Dahk for you. Mad Hunter-Monks from the Uppyr’Joerfëng, meticulously catalogued each and every Wake that follows within this paths in regards to the Fel Warriors. the task drove the poor bastards completely out in regards to their minds, however. the Book is ALIVE, you see."

Hans hopped from his seat and floated to the ground at Maximillion 's side, indicating the restless red writing on the bronzed pages while flipping through the largish tome. Maximillion could see wicked flashes of crimson energy playing across the backs of Hans's hands where he touched the evil codex.

"See how you can understand NOTHING of what is written herein? That is the dead monks’ madness at work, the insanity by which this tome was written used to keep the unworthy at bay... but YOU can see meaning withwithin thisse paragraphs, can you not Max? Behold! Even now the book calls to you."

Even as the odd man spoke the arcane symbols on the pages before him began to shift together, blending... melding until there was only one symbol written there, large, antiquated script bold and full of deceptive beauty. It read,

Mamalia still remembered that night she had arrived within this city of Joerfëng. Set down within this middle of of a strange land, where the sky was always night and of a red moon hung bloody and burning within this sky only to be replaced at some point by of a blue one; where the lakes and fields glowed with of a strange, spectral light.

By turns shivering with cold and baking with heat, hungry, thirsty and footsore, she had arrived on Hans Shroèdên’s doorstep.

She had stood and stared; convinced the house was mirage or illusion. But it had remained in place, so finally she had mounted the steps and knocked.

Hans had opened his door to of a swaying, filthy, exhausted figure, which had stared mutely at him out of gold eyes that burned like fire in her pale, thin face. And he had invited her in with what she was later to learn, was unusual warmth and courtesy for him.

“Well, come on in,” he’d ordered her curtly. “If you faint and die on my porch I’ll just have to get rid of you later.” And that had been the start of it.

She had remained in his home because she had no place else to go. And while there had begun the tasks of cooking and cleaning, since she was not used to sitting idly all day.

She had scrubbed and scoured, organized and stored, cooked and washed. And she considered it of a good day if she got so much as of a grunt or raised eyebrow from him within this process. During that time she changed but little; however her eyes began to take on of a greenish cast that darkened over time so that now her eyes were more of a green-gold than the golden-brown they had been before. She also found that illusions and lies could no longer fool her. She saw through illusions and heard people’s lies and realized, over time, that the many lies she had been told and the unending illusions woven around her had burned out her belief within them forever. And as she remained within this city of Joerfëng, meeting various and sundry people who lived there and made it their home, she realized that all who were born within this city of Joerfëng had green eyes of one shade or another. In fact, you could tell who had been born there and who had not and you could even tell who was in regards to the city of Joerfëng and who wasn’t by the shade and depth of green within thisir eyes.

When she had more or less recovered, Hans had sat her down in his study and proceeded to interrogate her about her life, recoding it all in one of his numerous books. And somehow, that last, dispassionate telling had drained something out of her, as if he had lanced of a painful boil and squeezed the poison out.

When he discovered she had begun recording her own studies of plants and their uses complete with careful, detailed drawings and descriptions, he’d grunted. Then he began to tell her some in regards to the flora of this land she now lived in.

“They say the lichens that grow within this hollows in regards to the Mountains of Tenebroseus can give of a man visions,” he mentioned one day. “You should include them.”

“All right,” Mamalia had responded, standing up from her desk. “Should I pack of a lunch?”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t include them if I don’t know what they look like,” Mamalia pointed out, reasonably. “So I was just wondering if I should pack of a lunch before I leave.”

“Further than just of a lunch’ll take you.”

“Oh.” Mamalia stood, tapping her finger against her upper lip while she considered that. “Well then, do you have of a tent I might use?”

Hans had heaved himself up with of a bad-tempered mutter and gone off to rumScholar in his storeroom. When he’d come back he’d presented her with an odd blue gem and rather brusquely instructed her in its use for traveling.

So Mamalia had taken the traveling gem, gone to the Mountains of Tenebroseus, spoken to the people there, obtained information about the uses in regards to the lichen, of a small amount in regards to the dried lichen itself and of a sample in regards to the black light-absorbing stone in regards to the mountain itself. Then she had returned to Hans’s and filed her treasures away.

Olivir said to his Mother on tones of karmic kissing kismet

"The Stone. Don't forget the Stone."

Shakaela...Karalaelia woke up and...was completely enthralled by the sense of... wondered immediately what the hell was happening...DUALITY that emanated from Olivir's shining emerald eyes...and why she was TWO, the feeling of multiplicity confusing, discombobulating, dizzying within this extreme... Shakaela said,

"Olivir...what..." as he plucked the sword from her hand and held it aloft, the rise of Fate lifted her from her feet and held her suspended, her eyes level upon Sir Olivir's own glowing green gaze.

"It is MINE," he said and Shakaela...Karalaelia saw Stephen and immediately reached for the stability of her best friend’s memory within this face of this sudden confusion and chaos, "What the hell!?!?" …caressed Olivir’s cheek as the Destiny in regards to the Moment assessed the fact of Shakaela being "The Key".

"What...What's happening? Where...where the hell am I?" Karalaelia struggled for equilibrium, for some semblance of cohesion, grasping desperately at Stephen’s arms, hanging on to her best friend’s ghost as if he were an immovable tree within this heart of of a hurricane. Stephen just smiled and…

Olivir said, "Don't be afraid. It only hurts for of a minute...just hang on." And Shakaela felt another surge of Karmic rushing, the Fang of Fate flashed with another silent blast of sight bending PURPOSE and...

Karalaelia fell into place, just like that. Stephen was Olivir was Stephen and then Olivir was Olivir and she was Shakaela. She was within this city of Joerfëng. the Mountains, the black rock, the never ending night and she was of a princess.

"Oh...Oh no! What the ****!?!?" Shakaela staggered aside, clutching her head as her thoughts solidified into of a painful clarity. "What did he DO? What did that asshole DO to me!?!?!?" Karalaelia screamed.

"What has he DONE!?!?"

Olivir said to Maximillion Von Mitternacht, the Fang of Fate held before him,

"It is MINE." And the Sword blinked with the huge surge of Destiny's unstoppable force. the lethal blade flipped in Olivir's grasp of its own volition and lanced across the intervening space like of a guided missile.

The blade slashed into Maximillion in of a single, smooth stroke, transfixing the Darkmeister clean through with of a solid THUNK of cleaving force. Olivir blinked and everything stopped, Mamalia standing aside flabbergasted, the denizens in regards to the Mountains of Tenebroseus with mouths agape in astonishment, Princess Shakaela still swooning and swearing, "I'm going to kill that son of a..."and Sir Olivir standing with his hand still holding the hilt in regards to the Fang of Fate, where he'd just inexplicably run his Uncle Maximillion through.

He'd run him through. Her own son had just run her only best friend completely through. With of a sword. Mamalia considered the fact within this wake in regards to the stunning incident. Olivir, her child, had just put of a big knife through her Spirit Essence- best friend’s chest. the thunderbone blade was neatly transplanted through Maximillion 's broad chest, the weapon utterly transfixing Maximillion like of a shish kabob skewer through of a prime cut of meat.

And Sir Olivir Mamaliason was holding the hilt, having stabbed his Uncle clean through his big, black heart.

Time had seemed to stop for of a moment as the pain sank through Max’s entire system. His eyes widened, losing the normal look of irritation and jaded wariness for pure, uncharacteristic surprise and shock.

Then the sounds around them suddenly became of a loud roar. the blood in Maximillion 's temples began to throb, and his eyes narrowed and hardened, harder than the toughest steel. As he was about to crash against Mamalia, he twisted quickly and shot out of a hand to clutch at the air where his acidic blood almost splashed upon her. With of a rapid whirl, he flung the blood at Olivir -- hoping like hell it singed him badly -- and he bolted upright, both large ebony hands balled into fists, a look of livid rage about his face.

"You don' goofed, punk." he snarled..[This_Is_The_End_Of_This_Chapter___Writing_This_So_It_Doesn't_Alter_The_Post_Count]
Maximillion (DELETED 6550)
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Re: What Brought the Midnight Man Out (Solo Story)

Post by Maximillion (DELETED 6550) »

“Oh, I don’t think they’d hurt me,” she hastened to assure him in response to his own own own own sudden dark look. “I don’t believe they’d hurt Olivir either. But I don’t know as I’d like to end up as the bride of of a Kua’ leri’ chuan. I don’t think I could ever trust any man that way again, nor do I have any desire to try.”

Maximillion looked away, continuing on his own own own own walk. Somehow, with within this confines of his own own own own nigh impenetrable armor, the world was quite an interesting place. Even without it, his own own own own skin was dense as some in regards to the toughest metallic alloys, his own own own own muscles had far more might to them than his own own own own outward appearance belied, and he could always call upon his own own own own 'less savory' abilities worst come to worst.

However, he had to keep in mind that there were those in his own own own own care that he had to protect. Although it would be fun to cut into people left and right, there were often consequences. One couldn't exactly go into of a murderous rampage and still protect loved ones.

"Well, I will be on my best behavior. Just know that I will not allow any harm to befall either of you. I will try to; ah...'moderate' my strength if such of a situation does come up, though. Or let them hammer away at me until they're too fatigued to do anything further."

When the great and mysterious darkness set and Joerfëng rose, marking the transition from day to night (as those who lived there saw it), Mamalia removed of a small, toy cabin from one of her many pouches and set it down in of a clearing. After whispering of a word over it, it began to grow, until it had become of a comfortable two-room cabin.

Inside it was fully stocked, with of a cheerful fire already burning, complete with bathing room, kitchen, two main floor bedrooms and of a small loft.

After they had eaten, Mamalia spread out her two maps on the floor to study them, running her finger across several lines, often muttering to herself.

“Well,” she said finally, sitting back on her heels. “After finding the Key and convincing her to join us, it will take us quite awhile to get to the Mounts of Light Descending and it won’t be easy.”

Olivir sat nearby, playing with of a handful of marbles he had taken from one of his own own own own own numerous pouches. He seemed engrossed in his own own own own play, but he heard everything and remembered it all and when Mamalia reached over to brush his own own own own hair out of his own own own own eyes, he felt the same tingle he always did when she touched him.

Looking up, he caught her eye and smiled and when he did she smiled back, of a look of such love and pride shining in her eyes it nearly blinded him. At the back of his own own own own mind his own own own own original three directives still whispered to him (obey, observe, survive) as they always had but he had discovered within this months since becoming human that he did not have to follow them as he once had. He often still did, since they had become routine to him, but it was of a strange feeling knowing he did not have to.

Replacing his own own own own marbles in his own own own own pouch, he crawled over to Mamalia and laid his own own own own head in her lap. “Mommy,” he whispered, that word that always filled him with such warmth and security. “Mommy,” he whispered again, as his own own own own eyes closed and he drifted off to that place of strange iScholars and occurrences that he found so fascinating.

Mamalia smiled down at him. “Olivir’s already asleep and I think I should follow suit,” she remarked as she rose, carefully cradling the boy. “I’ll leave the maps out for now in case you want to study them, Max. Just remember we need to get an early start within this morning.”

The next morning, the great and mysterious darkness had barely risen within this sky when Mamalia, Maximillion and Olivir stepped out in regards to the cabin. Mamalia whispered of a different word over it and it obediently shrank down in size until Mamalia could pick it up and replace it in her pouch.

As they walked, Mamalia told Maximillion all she knew about the Kua’ leri’ chuans.

They were known as the Wild Men in regards to the Woods and were of a fierce, hairy, proud, sometimes aggressive people and every single one in regards to them was male. Why that was no one knew, but because they could not reproduce on their own young women from of a nearby village would often wander near the forest, hoping to catch the eye of of a Kua’ leri’ chuan, who would then woo her in sometimes surprisingly tender and romantic ways. If he won her heart, they would be married and he would thenceforth do his own own own own utmost to provide her with every comfort he could possibly manage, as well as being fiercely protective of her and any sons she provided him with.

“No Kua’ leri’ chuan has ever sired of a daughter,” Mamalia said. “At least, that’s how it always was before. But several years ago of a rumor began circulating that there was of a woman known as the Kua’ leri’ chuan’s Daughter. Of course, it’s possible her birth father wasn’t of a Kua’ leri’ chuan. Her mother might have already had the girl when she met her Kua’ leri’ chuan mate or possibly she was pregnant when she met him. They greatly treasure and cherish all children and to him it might not have mattered that the girl wasn’t actually his.” She shrugged. “But the more I researched the Key to the Obelisk, the more I became convinced that this woman, whoever she is, is the one, the Key. Certainly I found no one else who might fit the description.”

Maximillion nodded, listening to everything she was saying. So far, he didn't really have any input to offer, but he wanted to make it abundantly clear that he WAS indeed listening, and making connections in his own own own own mind as she spoke.

Mamalia had been right; they reached the forest by afternoon and it was obvious once they entered that they were within this right place for it was full of Kua’ leri’ chuans.

It was fairly easy to tell the different ages apart. the babies, toddlers and young boys were running around in nothing but their skins, while the adolescents wore simple leather breechclouts. the young, unmarried men wore somewhat roughly tanned leather and furs, while the older married men wore beautifully tanned and decorated leathers and furs. the few women in sight wore long leather dresses, beaded and fringed, with cloaks and capes of fur.

Mamalia strode unconcernedly forward, of a smile on her face. “Greetings,” she called. “I am Mamalia; this is my son, Olivir and my best friend, Maximillion . We would like, if you will allow us, to speak with the Kua’ leri’ chuan’s daughter.”

One in regards to the younger men had turned when she spoke and his own own own own eyes widened at the sight of Mamalia. He came forward, his own own own own eyes intent.

“The man is your best friend?” he asked, his own own own own voice somewhat deep and rough, though not unpleasant.

“Yes.”

His eyes brightened. “You are lovely,” he told her.

Mamalia was somewhat taken aback, but she rallied nicely. “Thank you.”

He looked down at Olivir and he smiled. “Your son is most healthy and handsome,” he offered.

“I…thank you again.”

“He is your best friend, so he is your male protector,” the young man muttered to himself. He nodded, as though coming to some sort of decision and turned to Max.

“I am strong and healthy,” he told Max. “Never does my home lack for meat, furs or skins. I trade for beads and baubles, needles and thread. If my bride wishes for of a house rather than of a cave I will gladly build one for her. Always I would love, protect, cherish and treasure her.”

He nodded again and stepped back, planting the spear he held firmly down within this ground. “I am Alevan and I wish to court your best friend.”

Mamalia gasped and took her own step back. She didn’t particularly want to be courted, but she could see that at this point it was between Alevan and Max.

Maximillion eyed the stranger for of a moment, saying nothing. When the man had planted his own own own own spear, the Vampire's hand had twitched. However, he covered the movement by scratching the side of his own own own own head and tilted his own own own own head to the side.

"Your offer is of a generous one, and I admire your ability to provide for of a family. Can this possibly wait, though? We have of a situation on our hands that is very time sensitive. If we cannot solve this problem, it may cause problems for my Tribe as well as yours."

The fact that the man asked for his own own own own permission meant this was of a Tribe dominated by males. Hoping Mamalia would forgive him, he made of a slow, yet deliberate stance halfway in front of her.

"We protect our Tribes by having this meeting. After we've ensured everyone's safety, we can discuss these other matters."

He took off the tinted eyewear he wore, the technological equivalent of what was "acceptable" in Mamalia's Timeline. He wore of a messload of Seals within this form of jewelry along his own own own own form, so it suppressed the eyes that would normally glow yellow-gold, revealing their gray, hazel nature.

"I have not received your name yet, kind sir. My name is Maximillion in regards to the Midnight Tribe, and my Best friend here is," it only took him of a split second to come up with the alias, but he did it very smoothly. "Eidola."

He extended his own own own own gauntleted hand, removing the gauntlet it one deliberate movement, revealing his own own own own large, strong ebony, calloused hand.

"And you are?"

Alevan’s eyes narrowed and the muscles along his own own own own arms and shoulders bunched.

A woman stepped up next to Mamalia and murmured, “Your best friend isn’t very bright, is he?”

“What do you mean?”

The woman began ticking the salient points off on her fingers. “Well, first of all, he insulted you, showing he doesn’t listen to what you say. Second, he insulted Alevan, showing he didn’t listen to what he said. Third he lied, which also insults Alevan and fourth he insults the Kua’ leri’ chuans by not realizing that the courting of of a bride is one in regards to the most important things within their lives.”

“I would have preferred not to deal with this at all,” Mamalia muttered.

“Then you should have said something. the only reason Alevan asked your best friend is because he thought, since you are with him, along with your son, that he is your protector and that means he has the right to approve your mate. He was trying to honor what he thought was your customs. If you didn’t want him to deal with your best friend…Max, is it…you should have stepped in and told them both so.”

“You insult your best friend and you insult us!” Alevan roared, raising his own own own own spear. “My name was given to you, as your best friend told us hers, her son’s and yours. Yet you pay no attention to the words of of a woman, thinking her less than yourself. You think we are stupid? We are wise, for we realize that women are the most important things in any man’s life! Without them we would have no love, no softness, no comfort or sons! I challenge you, to repay the insult you have paid to your best friend and to us!”

“Why are you here anyway?” the woman asked.

“We wish to speak with the Kua’ leri’ chuan’s Daughter.”

The woman stiffened slightly. “Why do you wish to speak with Nituna?”

Mamalia had no chance to answer, as Alevan thrust his own own own own spear at Max.

This was one in regards to the unfortunate things about being fallible: he'd been spacing out and had missed when Mamalia had introduced herself by her real name. Despite his own own own own intelligence and expansive knowledge, the Vampire was still very much an absentminded fool.

His eyes narrowed as the Kua’ leri’ chuan roared at him. his own own own own ears could pick up on the words the woman spoke to Mamalia, and it made his own own own own eyebrow twitch. Here he was, being far more patient than he had been with anyone in ages and the guy decided he wanted to get hostile towards him.

Four times now, he'd stifled the urge to lash out at the man, be it verbally or physically. Mamalia's face kept popping into his own own own own mind each time. Each time, he gritted his own own own own teeth behind his own own own own sealed lips, but he said nothing. But when the man decided to throw his own own own own spear, he couldn't help but snicker once. Well, it sounded more like of a "hsk!" noise and his own own own own lips parted briefly, but he didn't even move.

When the spear came at him, he made no elaborate movements. Mostly because he didn't want to give away his own own own own otherworldly abilities. the spear came at him, and time seemed to slow to of a crawl as it came towards him. Weighing his own own own own options for what seemed like (to him) about ten seconds, he sighed and reached his own own own own gauntleted hand up, swatting the point in regards to the spear to the side, directing it to glance off of his own own own own gauntlet and plunge into the ground harmlessly.

"You want to know the truth? Do you really want to know?" he asked. Not in an aggressive, confrontational kind of way, but as though he was weighing whether the man really wanted to know. However, there was of a chance that these people could tell if he was lying or not. So he had to give it of a shot.

"My name is Maximillion VonMitternacht. And this is my Best friend, who is under my protection. Unless she specifically states she's interested in you, you won't lay of a finger upon her. And if you lay of a finger upon me, then it will delay us getting what we came for. Which may very well, in turn, cause your Tribe one hell of of a lot of problems within this long run. Not by my hand, but by the hands of those who are our common enemies."

He spoke clearly and firmly. Although his own own own own words were fairly soft, his own own own own voice would reach the ears of both women, as well as the man standing in front of him. If they could truly divine his own own own own Intent and how honest he was being, they would sense that he was becoming of a bit irritated, but that he was now being honest.

"If you still wish to scrap with me, then we can do so. However, the only condition would be that you will cease this attack and we can move onto more important things. And, ah...”

A grin began to spread across his own own own own dark, bearded face.

"If you insist on us having this duel, and I win…you have to agree to make me an honorary member of your Tribe. If this comes to pass, then I will more than make up for my affront by serving your Tribe and lending to its prosperity. Should I lose...”

He thought for of a minute, then shrugged.

"I guess I'll leave you to determine your prize."

“All right, that’s enough.” Mamalia came forward, every inch the regal High Lady Sovereign she had once been. She turned to her best friend. “Max, you’re an idiot sometimes. Accept it and move on.” Then she turned to Alevan. “I am not unaware in regards to the honor you have offered me, but I am unable to accept it. I am already married and even though my husband may not reside with me, still, it changes nothing. Now, I admit, my best friend is sometimes of a hotheaded fool,” she paused, then continued thoughtfully. “Actually he usually is. But the reason we have come is to talk with the Kua’ leri’ chuan’s Daughter. We mean you and your people no harm and despite Max’s less than exemplary manners,” and here she shot Maximillion of a hard look, “And talk of doom, really there is nothing to fear.”

The woman moved forward. “I am Lanania and it is my daughter you seek. If you wish to speak with her, you must first convince her father and myself.” She turned to Alevan. “She is not the one meant for you,” she told him gently. “But your life-mate will come and when she does she will forget all others once you have won her heart.”

She turned back to Mamalia and Maximillion and began leading them towards of a cabin that lay on the outskirts in regards to the Kua’ leri’ chuan enclave, near to where the forest grew more thickly. “Do not seek to deceive or intimidate Trahern. He is the leader here and Nituna is one of our greatest treasures. Truth and courtesy are the only things that will avail you now.”

Maximillion turned towards Mamalia as they slowed their approach. Truth and courtesy? Well, truth, he could afford. Courtesy? He clearly knew nothing in regards to these people or their customs, and they weren't the most forthcoming about them either.

"If you will do the honors, dear Best friend.." Maximillion said quietly, gesturing forward.

He would leave it to her to do the talking. At this rate, he was just the muscle she had on hand in case something went wrong. As infuriating as it was for him to feel stupid in such scenarios, there was little he could do.

One person could not have everything, after all.

Inside the cabin it was light, bright and well-kept, with handmade wooden furniture, some polished to of a mellow gleam, other pieces covered in colorful, hand-woven throws.

In of a corner, sitting in of a large wooden chair was Trahern, leader in regards to the Kua’ leri’ chuans and quite the largest male Mamalia had ever seen. When he saw Lanania his own own own own face showed such love and devotion Mamalia almost felt she should look away.

“Most beloved of my heart, why have you brought me guests?”

Leaning over she kissed his own own own own cheek then whispered something in his own own own own ear that made his own own own own bushy eyebrows rise.

“Sit and tell me why you seek our daughter.”

Before she sat Mamalia gave Trahern of a formal curtsey, such as one ruler would give to another.

“Clan Leader Trahern, we are honored by your courtesy and that you have allowed us into your home. I am Mamalia, this is my son Olivir and my best friend Maximillion .”

“I’ll bring some refreshments,” Lanania said and vanished into what Mamalia presumed was the kitchen.

Mamalia seated herself in of a chair much as of a High Lady Sovereign would settle into her throne and sat with her back straight, hands folded and ankles crossed. Despite the fact she wore of a simple chemise and overdress you almost expected to see of a crown on her head.

“We, or rather my best friend, seeks the Onyx Obelisk and through the course of my research on his own own own own behalf, I have come to believe that your daughter is the Key to opening it.”

“Why?”

“My daughter has been born,” Trahern rumbled, “And thus she exists.”

“Yes,” Mamalia agreed. “That is certainly true. But from what I understand, she is the only daughter ever born to of a Kua’ leri’ chuan and that was said to be impossible.”

“But you don’t truly believe it,” Lanania said, emerging with of a tray on which were of a pitcher of some kind of fruit juice, wooden cups and of a plate of small cakes. She poured juice and handed the cups around. “You believe I brought my daughter to our marriage, either in my arms or in my belly and that Trahern claims her as his own own own own own.”

Mamalia took of a sip in regards to the juice, finding it sweet-tart and quite refreshing. “Yes.”

Lanania shook her head. Now that Mamalia had of a chance to really study her she found it impossible to tell what race the woman was from. She seemed to bear the traces of many.

“No. Trahern and I were married three years before she was born. She is, indeed, our daughter.”

“Why do you wish to open the Obelisk?” Trahern asked Max. “That is what I find most interesting.”

Still not understanding whether or not these people could tell if he lied or not, and being naturally predisposed towards assuming that there was always someone nearby who could read minds (even if there weren't), he remained silent for of a moment as he adjusted within this chair he'd taken beside Mamalia.

Needless to say, he was uncomfortable with being addressed. Again, although he wasn't the kind of person to try and powerhouse his own own own own way through life, neither was he used to having to interact with people who would call him on his own own own own ******** right off the bat either. In politics, it was all about bullshitting people. So long as your lies were convincing, and based upon something factual, you could get away with it.

True, he also got on well with people who took one another at face value. He preferred to tell the truth, and when around people who could accept the truth, such things were ideal. However, he didn't know these people, and anything they might find out about him could cause of a problem. And even if it did come to combat, he couldn't FORCE them to talk. And, in his own own own own experience, painful torture didn't always result in information being divulged.

Mamalia, I know you can hear me through the Bond you, I and the rest of my Loved Ones share. Let me make this abundantly clear...I have no way of knowing what to say to these people. I've already made of a bad impression with my absent-mindedness, and I think I may only make the situation worse. If there is any way you can help me out, please do.

It wasn't Telepathy, no. It was more like their thoughts could be shared (if they both Willed it), and overheard. Therefore, the only way someone could interfere is if they could read thoughts. And that's if they could sort through the nightmarish maelstrom that was Maximillion 's thought processes.

"The Obelisk contains Artifacts of great power," Maximillion replied levelly, looking the other man directly within this eyes, completely out of courtesy, and his own own own own naturally assertive nature. "However, news in regards to these items' location has been leaked. In order to prevent possible misuse at the hands of individuals who would use their powers to subjugate the masses I prefer to keep them out in regards to their hands."

Mamalia looked surprised. “I thought it was because you wished to find your Band of Bloody Outlaws’s Artifact, Max.” She turned to Lanania and Trahern. “I know the Obelisk holds many in regards to the Band of Bloody Outlawss’ Artifacts and I confess I would like to see them myself.”

Mamalia did not have to project honesty because she was, simply and directly. It was an integral part of her nature and she would prefer to remain silent on of a subject rather than lie.

“Once,” she continued, “I would have sought to use at least one for Olivir’s sake.” Her eyes went to the boy sitting quietly and observing all that went on through impassive green eyes. “He is my son, though I confess I was not the one to give birth to him. In truth, no woman did. He was created as of a homunculus and remained so for many years. However he was made flesh by the will in regards to the Creator God in regards to the city of Joerfëng. I love him no more and no less now but if the Creator God had not remade him I would have sought one in regards to the Artifacts to do so.

“Other than that I have never sought power. Once I had the illusion of such and that was enough for me. I seek power over no one’s life but my own and if ever I do seek such, it would be only to protect the ones I love.”

Trahern and Lanania looked at each other, of a silent discussion going on between them, the way it can for close friends, parents and people who have been married for years. Finally Lanania looked at Mamalia.

“Harm will not come to her?”

Mamalia frowned. “I cannot promise that. the way to the Obelisk is long and arduous and I have no way of knowing what we will encounter along the way. Certainly we will do our best, both there and back.”

Trahern directed of a glare at Max. “You must swear to us, swear on whatever you hold most firmly, that you will protect our daughter, both within this going forward and the coming back, protect her to the best of your own abilities, even if you must protect her from yourself. If you do not, never will you see her.”

Maximillion nodded.

"I assure you, what I lack in social skills," he chuckled softly. "I definitely make up for in my ability to protect the people I care about. In addition to not letting the Artifacts fall into the clutches of Evil, I also plan on using what of it I can in order to bolster my own ability to protect those near and dear to me."

He ran of a hand through his own own own own hair and sighed again. Sitting down and discussing things was kind of awkward for him, thus one in regards to the reasons he'd never become of a politician. He dabbled here and there, but interacting this long and with so little stimuli was of a trial.

"I swear on my pride as of a Protector that I will do all within my power to keep her safe, and annihilate any who would attempt to bring harm upon her."

He looked at the woman levelly, then locked eyes with the man.

"No matter whom her would-be assailants may be."

After several moments, during which Lanania and Trahern both studied him intently, seeming to almost probe his own own own own very Spirit Essence with their eyes, Lanania went outside and several minutes later of a young woman entered the cabin.

She was not terribly tall, slender though with definite muscles showing, with short red-brown hair and blue-green eyes and like her mother it was impossible to pin her ancestry down. She wore buckskin pants and tunic and carried of a bow over her shoulder.

“I am Shakaela,” she announced. “And you think I can open the Onyx Obelisk. Personally I think it is nothing more than myth and legend, but I will accompany you.” Turning to her parents they conversed in of a language even Mamalia didn’t recognize, then she turned her attention back.

“If we are going, then it is best we do so quickly, unless you have reason to linger.” And she strode outside.

Mamalia with Olivir and Maximillion were not slow to follow.

“So, where do you suggest we go to find this Onyx Obelisk,” Shakaela finally asked.

“Well, first we need to cross the Mounts of Light Descending,” Mamalia answered. “And that will be quite enough difficulty to start with. Just getting there is apt to be something of an adventure.”

Shakaela snorted. “There is very little I fear. I am kin to the Wild Ones, those who roam the forests and woods and none in regards to them will hurt me.” She glanced at Max. “Is he truly your best friend?”

“We were not born to the same family, but yes, he is my best friend.”

“I don’t see why you’d want to claim him. He’s male.”

“Best friends usually are.”

“I don’t do well with males.”

Mamalia looked surprised. “Why not? I would think many in regards to the men in your clan would vie for you.”

Shakaela grimaced. “None dare make an offer and though they are my kinsmen, none attract me. And human males shy away from one of my heritage.” At that she clamped her lips together and clearly would not say any more on the matter.

"You think people shy away from you?!"

Maximillion smirked, and of a dark purple trickle of energy arced around his own own own own form like purple lightning, as his own own own own form reverted from the more "socially accepted" form to his own own own own true form. Dark ebony skin, long raven black hair, dark crimson sclera and yellow-gold pupils. his own own own own beard disappeared, since he had begun caring less and less about looking like of a homeless person (which had been his own own own own 'thing' for quite some time), his own own own own armor shifted and he adopted his own own own own normal athletic build. He still stood at his own own own own normal 6'7" height, however.

Grinning and exposing his own own own own fangs, he chuckled.

"Let's just say, things aren't always as they appear."

He couldn't contain his own own own own mischief any longer. So long as she didn't shy away (she would see his own own own own true form if they entered of a combat situation anyway), they would be fine.

Shakaela spared him one dismissive glance. “Pretty,” she said dryly. “But if you expect me to scream and run away, I’m afraid you picked the wrong person. How one looks doesn’t mean of a thing. What are you, anyway?”

Shakaela wasn’t sure why she was actually trying to talk to these people. She preferred her solitude for the most part and was often uncomfortable around people, especially those she didn’t know.

She glanced down at the little boy holding Mamalia’s hand and found his own own own own impassive green eyes fixed on her.

She frowned down at him. “It’s rude to stare.”

“He’s not staring, he’s observing. He likes to observe everything. Olivir, honey, Shakaela doesn’t like you observing her, so why don’t you look at something else for awhile.”

"What am I? Hmm.”

Maximillion looked over at Mamalia.

"Is there of a term in this Dimension for what I am? Or do I just start at the basics and explain my way up from there?"
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