Emalia Dies

Grobnak's office looked the same as it always had - and at the approach of Emalia, Grobnak leapt up from his chair. "Emalia! You're alive!" The scent of death and decay swirled around her, but it didn't seem to bother either of them. At Grobnak's approach, Emalia inwardly recoiled - the killer of her child - how dare he approach her. All this time she thought of him as decent - not knowing that all along everyone was right about his cold, calculating nature. "What is it that you have there?"

"This... is... my baby. Look at her... isn't she beautiful?"

For a shimmering moment, Brin was alive in her arms - but the vision wavered and the ball of rot came back into view with black, bloated lips pursed for suckling. "I don't understand," Grobnak interrupted. "You lost it? You were only a few weeks along."

"Nooooo," Emalia began in a hollow whisper. "She's here... she's here now."

"I... I am sorry, Emalia."

"Hold her," Emalia commanded. She thrust the decayed child into Grobnak's arms. Upon his face gathered a tear, and it drove Emalia near insanity. A growl gathered in her throat, even as the black ichor that coursed through her rewarded her for the hate. "You did this to me. You did this to her."

"Me? No, Emalia."

"Yes. You did. You gave me that disease... the disease that KILLED my baby."

"No, Emalia. If I made people ill, there would be many more deaths. I am Chosen, yes, but I am not contagious."

"LIAR!" Emalia shoved her hands into Grobnak, thrusting him backward. "Halethiel TOLD me what you did... you sick... sick bastard! YOU infected me."

"Halethiel is centuries dead! What is it about this that you people do not understand?"

"You did this to me," Emalia began. The rage that she had quelled only a bit was washing over her - the black makou prasing her for the turn in her nature. It flowed easier now - but Emalia did not know. She advanced slowly upon Grobnak. "You killed my child... and I can't live knowing you aren't going to pay. I'm going to make you pay for this, Grobnak."

"I did nothing, Fallen! Know that I will tolerate your anger and your insolence, but you will not assault me for your lack of Faith, no matter how dear you may be to me!"

"DEAR TO YOU!" Emalia barely could understand the words once they had left her mouth, so high pitched were they. Grobnak held his ground, his black eyes looking down upon her with a mix of emotions Emalia could not, and didn't try to descern.

"Bring your wrath, then. I did not hurt this child. I have done naught but seek to reveal the Truth to you, which you refuse to see."

The words were enough to halt Emalia for only a moment - until her eyes rested upon the decayed baby that Grobnak had placed in the chair. Rage like no other she'd known flooded her and she gripped Grobnak's arm with her fingers like talons. She did only what she knew to do - she pulled upon the world around her, channeling through her body the very essence of the planet, while forcing it in a torrent into Grobnak.

Emalia could barely see from her own eyes - the pain of the black makou being mixed with what she was caused only the color white to explode over and over in her vision. A scream broke from her throat as she gripped tighter - her entire body shuddering inwardly with pain that felt as though her flesh was being flayed from her skin by hooks. Only when the body before her began to fall did she relent enough to note the connection which made her kin to Grobnak's thoughts - and he to hers. Only as the ragnarok demon's wings melted into a puddle and dripped to the floor did she realize she had been wrong. Grobnak's life flickered out like a candle blown, and Emalia fell to the ground with him.

"Oh no..." The madness that capped Emalia's face broke into pure horror. "You... were... right... Oh Gods..." Feebly, Emalia tried to ignore the pain within her, to right the wrong, to find Grobnak's life and restore it - but it was too late for him - and for herself. She had fully let herself go to slay him, and with the pain digging itself into her - the attempt to pull life - to give life - Emalia's vison began to fade.

Nothing more could be done for Grobnak, and with the loss of all that held her together inside, Emalia collapsed onto Grobnak with a shuddering breath. It was her last. The remainder of her lifeforce shot from her, a brilliant explosion. When the guards finally entered, a body of a baby was in a chair, an orc laid upon the ground in a puddle of black ooze, and atop his chest was a woman in dirty white robes. All were dead.

How To Suffer Yourself

Sanria'd walked for a matter of minutes before heavy and fast footsteps caught up to her. "Where are you going?" Colin asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, it was a little strange for you to just walk off like that. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sanria had answered with a flat voice. "Why don't you go back to the cavern or even Emalia's house and do your waiting."
"Please, talk to me."
"No, it's alright. You really should go back... in case Throm actually returns."
"Sanria, please, don't just leave like this."
"I've done nothing but bring hostility to this whole enterprise. It's best that I  take myself and my beliefs far from here... and keep them there. I'm truly not helping anyone... and I haven't been."

Instantly, Colin dismissed this. "Sanria... I can't even tell you how much you have helped me. You have been there for me all through these past few weeks. If it weren't for you I probably would have driven myself crazy."
"I didn't do that. You kept yourself from that insanity. Perhaps by believing in yourself. Believing we'll find her."
"No. I couldn't have had that strength without you there. Not by myself... I'm literally half the man i used to be. I have been counting on you to be that fire, that strength."

Sanria couldn't keep her eyes on Colin any longer. She stared at the ground as he continued. She had only wanted to be wanted. Only wanted to know that someone felt that she was worth sharing with, worth truly loving. Her reality quickly blurred and feelings that never should have risen... did. "I'm not as strong as you believe me to be, Colin." With that, she forced them away, brought back to herself her purpose and goal.

They discussed her trip north and finally, Colin interrupted. "Look, the truth is I need you. If you have no more hope left, let me be the hope. I need you be the fire, the resolve, the anger even."

No no no. NO. Sanria thought. This was not the right feeling. Not in the least. Hearing someone want her... need her... and tell her such a thing...

And so she lay, staring at the opposite wall, back to Colin as he dozed in the chair. She lay there, wondering if she shouldn't try to sneak out and finish herself off. She didn't believe Emalia was going to return. Even if she did, she could only see another Thasmudyan. She didn't believe it... but Colin did... and whatever had possessed her to kiss her own son-in-law... it had driven her nearer to insanity than she had been in a long, long time.

She was guilt-ridden, downtrodden, disgusted with herself, and in a fit of dispair. She knew where her road was headed... yet with Colin on suicide watch as he waited for any word from Throm... there was nothing she could do but suffer every idiotic move she'd ever made. Even with that miniature trespass on her very own daughter, Sanria listened to Colin plead with her... he still needed her. According to him, they all did. She had been designated as the anchor for the sanity of everyone else. She just didn't know how she could keep herself from unraveling.

To the North!

In the following two weeks, she'd heard nothing from Throm. Her heart had churned with anger - but he was no longer her fiance. He needed not to tell her anything. She kept herself busy calling Colin over to do the odd jobs that she needed done... thereby keeping Colin from losing his mind as she had long before.

When Throm had entered the cavern, telling them he was leaving for a while - Sanria finally reached her limits. "Weren't you doing that already?" she snapped. "Or is a while now... perhaps... months? years? decades? Perhaps now you're helping yourself."
"I'm afraid I've never been to where I'm going...though I don't know how much help to myself such a venture will be."
"Hmmm. I'm sure you'll figure something out, Throm. You always do. In the meantime, we'll find my daughter."

Colin looked at Sanria calmingly. "Sanria, please, let's give him a chance to explain." She listened only for as long as it took for Throm to get Colin's hopes up.
"Don't either of you understand?" she pled. "She isn't coming back... not until she's ready... and... that could be years. So we just have to... have to get used to it."
"You resign yourself too easily..." Throm said.
"Yes, and you disappear as frequently." Again Colin broke in, almost frantic. "You may have lost someone but he was dead, Emalia is not! And I cannot give up until she is back."

Sanria stood dumbfounded. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Colin seemed to know that his words cut deeply, but even his attempt to comfort wasn't enough. Sanria had broken at last. With a few hostile parting words with Throm, she mounted the steps, entered her house, and burst into tears.

Grabbing a pack, she began throwing meaningless items into it. Quill, parchment, and a spare robe. She didn't know until she had packed where she would head, but she knew why she was leaving. Long ago... well before she had children... she had gone north to freeze to death. It felt a perfect place now to return, and without Thasmudyan around, she could succeed and simply go to sleep.

With a man who vanished, a daughter who not only hated her - but was also gone, a brother missing, a son who loved her only with scattered attendence, a son-in-law that scowled at her every move - Sanria felt the course was the best. She walked out, apologizing to both Throm and Colin, and headed into the woods.

Compounding Problems...

Sanria lay in her bed, her back to the steady breathing of Colin, who was sitting in a chair nearby. She had hit another low in her life and all she could wonder is what she could have done to change it.

Two weeks before she lay in bed, she was at the gates of the Jihad compound. She'd woken up at the gates of Throm's vanished house, and knew the only place he'd be was with Grobnak. So she stormed through the gates, entangling the front guards, and ended up for all her troubles, in a holding cell with several bruises on her arms.

But she was right. Throm was there, in the cell beside hers. She was relieved to find him, but worried about the fact that she was in here also nagged at her. The two spoke for what felt like several hours before Grobnak approached her cell door. "Have you calmed yourself, Sinner?"
"I should say so."
"This one attempted to break into the Compound and has personally insulted myself and our entire organization. What would you do with one such as this if they stormed the home of the Guardians?" Grobnak asked Throm.
"A woman after my own heart."
"Just let him out. You can do whatever you need to do to feel justified to me."
"Throm is here of his own accord, Sinner."
"Why then is he locked up?" Sanria barked.
"So that he does not leave with a dangerous substance he has stolen in the past."

Sanria could not see Throm in the next cell, willing Grobnak to shut his mouth, but confusion and sudden curiosity got the better of her. "What? What substance?"
"That is not your concern, Sinner," Grobnak hissed.
"Throm? What is he talking about?"
"All will be explained Sanria...I promise. Now is not the time though."

Another coverup. Another deflection of true purpose. Sanria slid to the ground, not really understanding until several more words had passed that Throm was in the compound seeking more black makou. Her heart, in that moment, froze and she sat with her chin on her knees. She'd put her life on the line to save Throm, only to discover that he had returned to the compound for that evil, vile substance. She felt duped.

She was put out at dawn, after hearing a bit of conversation between Grobnak and Throm... about a book... and then... about dreams. Emalia was in a dream. It gave her hope, and she raced home to share the news.

Darknesssssssss...

Sanria walked from the Blue Moon Tavern. Sanria walked toward Throm's House. Sanria reached the gates and looked up. Sanria fainted.

An Attempt To Unlock Answers

Feeling as if he had out drank a dwarven colony, Lithanus' eyelids slowly lazed open, allowing the bright morning sun to pierce through his eyes thus increasing the dull aching throb of his head. Turning his head to the both sides, he saw that he was lying upon a cobbled surface. With a groan he carefully sat upright, resting his arms upon his knees. The large gates of his father's home stood before him, looming far into the sky from the angle at which Lithanus sat. Suddenly remembering what had happened prior to him blacking out, Lithanus bolted to his wobbly feet, gripping the gate with both of his hands. The large manor which had stood beyond the guard of the dark gates was now gone. As though plucked from the very ground by a giant hand, there stood nought but a large open space where Lithanus had...for a brief time, called home. Nearly breathing the words, he recounted Throm's final words to him.

'After you leave, none will find this place again...' Peering through the greenery west of where the house had once stood, he could see a large structure poking out over the tops of the trees. 'I wonder.'

Lithanus broke into a slow run, heading down a dirt path along the western edge of the gate. As he rounded the corner, his pace quickened at sight of the airship hangar.

Skidding to a stop within the large bay of the building, he peered upwards into the scaffolds, hoping to see the shining hull of his father's airship hulking in the dock above. His hope was in vain. The dock lay barren, the connecting cables hung lifeless from the scaffolding. A sharp pain in his right hand caused Lithanus to open his palm revealing the small glint of a metal object within it. Holding the object up to the light he realized he had been squeezing the key his father had given to him. Staring at the key as he continued to hold it up to the light, Lithanus felt the frustration mounting within him. All that had been left for him was a sword and a key to which he had no lock. He had no answers. He had no idea what would have possessed his father to poison the lifestream. No idea why his very presence caused him to be violently ill. No idea why his father had by all appearances vanished from the face of Toril along with his manor and ship. Whatever his questions, Lithanus knew that here he would find no more in way of answers. Sighing he pocketed the strange key, shouldered his new found sword, and left.

Vanishing... (1-3)

Sanria's hand slowly went back to her whip as she asked, "Where's Sandorin?"
"I don't know... he disappeared. What... what has happened? Please, tell me, what have I done?"
"You probably killed him, you monster. Where is he?"

Sanria's whip unfurled and the tips clattered down with a jingle upon the stone floor. Small electric-like arcs of fire lapped the length of the leather - activated by the user. Sanria's eyes darkened. She had a missing daughter, no lover, a missing brother, and a vile being sitting right at her feet upon which she could release her fury for not only all of those things, but the things Visha had done to her in her past. She lifted her hand and the vines enclosed the slumping figure on the floor. "I wished I could have killed you a long time ago, Visha. Threatening those I love... making me do those... those... horrible things."
"Please, I need your help. I didn't realize what had happened."
"Of course you didn't," Sanria spat.
"In my mind... I saw him in there... and the other."

She flicked her whip, barely slicing into Colin's cheek. "Lies. I tell you this much, you're not going to hurt my daughter. I'll see you dead and gone long before that."
"Emalia. Where is Emalia! Is she alright?"

Sanria's heart flared with rage. Of all the audacious things he could have said... "Oh you evil swine!" Sanria's whip found its tips slicing through the flesh of Colin's chin, fire dancing brightly before simmering down, searing the open wound before going out. "Filth!"
"Listen to me! Please! I didn't know what was inside of me but Sandorin took it out. He went into my mind..."

Sanria looked at Colin now as if for the first time. Her breath caused her shoulders to rise and fall angrily as her uncertainty worked its way through her. Finally, she let the whip drop to the ground and waved a hand, dismissing the vines from her victim. "It was not me," he continued. "Well, the old me, but worse. Whatever it was, Sandorin removed it. I finally realized it was there, he helped me to see, and I was able to help him."
"Then where is Sandorin, and where is that... thing?" Sanria whispered. She looked over with enough time to see the wound on Colin's chin ooze a bit of blood onto the floor. She reached to her pouch with regret, and pulled out several vials of salve.
"I don't know. I remember falling to the floor, I looked up and saw him for only a moment before he vanished." Colin rose and approached Sanria. "Sanria, please. Where is Emalia?"
"She's gone, Colin. To where... no one knows. None can find her."

Sanria dabbed Colin's chin with a paste of stinking herbal salve. She kept her eyes locked on the wound, feeling measurably more at ease knowing he did not have Visha in him any longer, but the worry pressed on her with her wayward brother being gone.
"Throm went into the lifestream to run tests," Sanria said, talking mainly to herself.
"Apparently that black makou is just as bad as I assumed."
"When? When did this happen?" Colin asked, never having heard Sanria's comment.
"When? You remember none of this? She's been done almost seven days."
"Seven days!? But just last night I was there with her!"
"No... you were not. We've all tried reaching her, and even Throm went to Grobnak to question him."
"Throm gave me that black makou, then you had me tangled."
"Colin... that was a week ago. Though, we haven't had any other success... and indeed... have had failures." Sanria immediately looked down, her lips tight, her thoughts on Throm. "Throm figures you and he shared the same odd dream," Sanria said, slightly changing the subject. "Some fellow, Halethiel, was in them."Colin's eyes widened. "Sanria... in the dream... there was another in my dream."
"Another?"
"My shadow, it spoke to this Halethiel, and he to it."
"You saw this man then?"

The two continued speaking, discussing Visha, Halethiel, the dream, and the lack of a body for Emalia. It was then that Colin said something that chilled Sanria to the core. "I took her to another plane before, when I was trying to keep her safe." The admission set both of them on a path to Colin's airship and a piece of his past.

Sanria was kept blindfolded, but the sounds she heard - the moans, the screams, the growling - sent her to the edge of her sanity. She wanted nothing more than to rip the blindfold from her eyes and defend herself, but as Colin informed her... to do so might find her lost in the planar vortex forever.

She could not tell how many places they went, nor how long time passed. Sanria could barely send out her thoughts to seek for her daughter - so terrifying was the trip. But after unknown time spent, there was only silence to greet each request. Emalia was obviously not here. But the idea of planes got Sanria thinking.

"She has to be in a plane somewhere. When we were in one plane, I could not detect anything in the others... I could not feel them even existing. If Sandorin were here, he might know how to better look for her... but..."

Sanria plopped into a chair, utterly exhausted from the strain. "How many more people have to go away," she lamented.

"None, we will find her, find them both. We just have to think this through. Who saw her last?"

A shudder sliced through Sanria as she realized just who she was helping here. It was immediate that she had to remember... this was not Visha. "You did."
"Then we have to assume that I... Visha that is... is responsible."
"It sounds almost foolish to suggest... and I don't think it's possible to do... but... do you think he could have taken her to the dream? In... his dream?"
"I just don't know. How could he? I mean, I can't even use magic. I couldn't... could I?"
"No. Not without something powerful to get her there."

Sanria's thoughts never strenthened into more. Perhaps she might have placed what powerful thing could have let Visha take Emalia into a dream - but she had never heard of such an event, let alone anything that could have allowed such a thing to happen. No, her next thoughts were of Halethiel, and who might know this man. There was only one being she could think of that would begin to have a clue, but Grobnak truly was the last person she wanted to visit.

Preponderance of Evidence

It was not completely dark when Sanria began her walk home from Throm's house. She walked alone, her head bowed in deep reflective thought, her hands gripping the strap on her pack. She wanted nothing more for him to have simply said 'No.' Was he aware of what it was going to do to her? 'No.' If only. But they both would have known it was a lie, and rather than have that pain, she'd take the pain of the truth.

There was no way she could stay with a man that took chances as if they were tissues in a box. She had risked her life and Thasmudyan's to find him, to save him in the North. She had gotten his word that she would be with him no matter what - but like the proverbial leopard, there was nothing she could do. She couldn't blame herself, she simply had to face the facts... she was growing older and she would be doing it alone.

Sanria thought, then, of Emalia. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would be able to find her daughter and bring her home. It would be like it was for so many years, but this time, they could share one another's company. Sanria, Emalia, and the little baby girl... her granddaughter. Sanria's mouth twitched into an uneasy smile, even as a tear escaped her eye. She'd envelop them in a cocooned world and shut out all the rest of the misery.

At the cavern finally, Sanria headed to Sandorin's laboratory. For now, she and her brother would have a chance to question the horror that was Visha and find out what in the hells happened to her daughter. She walked in and quickly looked around... Colin sat on the floor, looking up at her while Sandorin... was no where to be found.

Brought To Light (Part I of III)

The silence which permeated the room was nearly unbearable for Throm, though it had lasted the course of buy a few seconds. Telling her had been as difficult if not more than he had imagined it would be. She had responded to his call no doubt out of worry, and now Sanria would have to suffer the knowledge of Throm's actions. Sanria's head was still bowed, though her eyes had been locked on him since the silence had set between the two. At last she spoke.
'Why... why? Why did you go? You could have been killed, Throm... you could have died.'

Before he could even think, the words came tumbling from his mouth in torrents which he found himself unable to stop. 'To know the gravity of the situation. To know to what extents we would need to go to get the Makou back from Emalia. As for the dying part...by all normal means I believe I am dead.'

Surprised by his own bluntness of speculation, he quickly recounted what his experience within the Lifestream as well as his findings since his return. It seemed as though his body indeed had an aversion to the Lifestream upon his return. 'Allergic' as he had coined it to Sanria. He had expected her to be disappointed. He had known what a let down it would come as. Even if he had succeeded in his task, he knew she wouldn't have approved. How could she when Throm himself didn't?

For what seemed like forever to Throm, they debated the pros and the cons of the events which had transpired. Sanria stating facts that Throm already knew to be true, and Throm returning to justify his actions though he knew them to be wrong. Eventually the question which Throm had known was coming, though dreaded the most surfaced.
'Were you aware of what you would do to me, Throm?'
With little to no hesitation, Throm responded. 'Yes. I was.'
'Yet you did this anyway...'

It was a statement not a question he knew. Done...he was not going to stand there and explain why he had done things knowing it would hurt her, hurt his people, hurt himself. Such explainations would no doubt lead to further arguements, and he didn't want to argue with her right now. Instead his mind grasped at a single name that had surfaced from his mind when he was within the Lifestream. A name taken from Colin, who had...strangely enough...been having odd dreams of late as well, near visions if he recounted correctly.  'Halethiel...'
'Who is Halethiel?'

Throm quickly recounted the faceless name which had suddenly connected. He watched as Sanria spoke to him, watched as she asked her questions. He could tell by her distant manner that she had been cut deep this time around. The conversation continued, though he wondered what she could possibly say to make him feel worse than he already did.'I love you Throm... I truly do...I just don't believe we...are right for one another.'

Throm cursed himself inwardly, making a mental note to refrain from visiting the Department of Questions Best Left Unanswered from now on. Deep inside of himself, something stirred. Something alien to him...something dark. Hiding his surprise, Throm regained control and recomposed himself. They stood in the broken haven that Throm had once called his 'safest of places' and talked of the past, current, and what the future held for some time. The future held an odd prospect for Throm now. No longer was he under the protection of his people, he knew this for sure. No longer would he watch as the future became the present, as people and events passed him by. Now, the future held a much more limited timeframe than before. Time wasn't as expendable as it was before hand.

As Sanria readied herself for the journey back to her home, Throm walked her to the door, his eyes cast downward upon the sword at his side. His father's own sword, acquired when he himself was within the Guardians. Passed on when he had found his father's final resting place. He couldn't help but wonder if he would have still claimed the blade had he known what trouble it would help him to cause back then. Clearing his throat, he stopped at the door, turning to Sanria.

'Listen...You say you want to hear what I want...then these are my intentions. I intend to find out who this Halethiel is...perhaps he may lead me to Emalia. After I find Emalia, I shall 'dispose' of the Black Makou she carries with her.' He paused taking a deep breath. Casting a quick glance once more at his sword he continued.  'At which point in time I desire nothing more than to return here, hang up my sword, close my gates to the world and concentrate on no more 'issues'. Save that perhaps of finding a cure for...this.'

The prospect of his own retirement...actually speaking them out loud didn't present the feeling of loss he had expected. Rather it was a relief to know that there was something else out there besides the constant run, the next adventure, the next loss. It was time to pass the mantle on to the newer, more eager and energetic era. Expressing his wishes that at the time of his retirement Sanria might join him, he finally allowed her to be on her way. For perhaps an hour, he sat within his ruined work room, his mind wheeling as he attempted to focus on the task at hand, the very same tasks he had laid out before Sanria.

The door burst open with a sudden crash. And within it's frame the figure outlined did not need introduction. Nor did Throm need to see the outlines of the tattooed arms within the dim light to know exactly who his visitor was.

"It's not always easy for a father to understand the interests and ways of his son.  It seems the songs of our children may be in keys we've never tried.  The melody of each generation emerges from all that's gone before. Each one of uscontributes in some unique way to the composition of life."

'I thought you would have arrived long ago Lithanus.'

The figure stepped from the doorway in the form of a lurch, then stopped short clutching the wall for support. When Lithanus spoke, it sounded more of a gasp than actual conversation. 'What have you done?'

Throm shook his head as he stood. He limped slowly towards the teenager, each step that he took bringing him closer to apparent pain.

'You already know what I've done. As does the Council. I doubt they wish me to return to the Valley this time though.'

Lithanus was breathing hard labored breaths as he still leaned against the wall for support. The closer Throm stepped, the more uncomfortable either of them seemed. Glancing sideways at his father he gave his head a single shake, the very act causing his hair to fall down into his face.

'No, they deem you a threat to the planet...a threat that needs to be removed.' Throm stopped in his tracks, bringing himself to full height despite the pain he still felt in his leg. Tilting his head, he looked upon Lithanus, his eyes narrowing slightly.

'And they've asked you to carry out this removal?'

Lithanus didn't answer, rather he sank to the floor his back to the wall. As he brushed the hair back from his face, the dim light revealed that his pale sweating visage. The eyes which looked upon Throm were laden with dark circles under them. When Lithanus spoke again it was in even more labored context. 'I don't understand...what are you doing to me?'

Throm took another step towards his son. As he did so Lithanus pressed himself hard against the far wall, wincing at the unseen pain which racked his body. Looking down, Throm's own face began to show signs of strain as a single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

'Not what I'm doing boy...rather what I am. I'm afraid you'll have to report that you are unable to accomplish your mission. I'm afraid our opposing life energies are rather sensative to each other. Most Cetra as well I'd imagine.' Trying in vain to pick himself up, Lithanus gave a gasping smile.

'I'm not here to try and kill you, they'll have to leave that to someone other than your son. I'm here to make sure you're not dead.'

A small smile broke Throm's face. His smile turned to that of slight sadness as he drew his sword from the holster at his side. Within a few steps he had closed the distance between himself and Lithanus who was now nearly writhing upon the floor. Kneeling down beside the younger man Throm gasped as his every essence rejected that of his son's. Holding the blade close, he could feel the same dark feeling he had felt earlier welling up inside him. In a strained voice he spoke out.

'I...am done.'

He carefully set the sword next to Lithanus, taking both relief and heartache in the fact that it would be the last time that he would lay hands upon the very item he had once worked so hard to get. Lithanus looked up, his eyes now glowing fiercely. It was apparent he was no longer able to form words. No longer able to do much aside from convulse upon the floor. Knowing this, Throm took the liberty of breaking the silence as they didn't have much time.

'It's your turn Lithanus. No longer is this the lifestyle I choose. Stay far from the Council...stay far from the Valley. Many within our people still mean well, but something is amiss within them. No 'good' person would send a son to kill his own father. You are a part of those who revel in knowledge as you do. You no longer need the Cetra, nor the tasks they give you as one would an errand boy. You're better than that.'

His own breath becoming quite labored, he reached out to grip Lithanus' hand and ignored the blinding burning sensation that accompanied such an act.

'This is the last time we will see each other Lithanus. After you leave, none will find this place again. The sword, it was your grandfather's as was this...'

Pulling a key from his pocket he set it beside the sword his fingers shaking from the strain of even such a small act. Giving a final approving nod to his son he rose on unsteady feet and stepped back a few paces, though it didn't appear to help the young man's condition.

'You've come a long way...I'm proud of you.'

Slowly Lithanus dissolved into the very air around him, leaving Throm to stand alone within the room. His looked with disdain upon the blackened archway to which he had been bound since his return. He knew that he would not last long without contact with the Black Makou. After he had rested he would have to pay a visit to the only person he knew of who possessed such a substance.

Extraction *Part 1-3*

Sandorin paced as he stared at Colin's motionless body. It lay suspended, inches above the floor of the study, held in stasis by a shimmering transparent field. "How could this have happened." he wondered to himself. The plan had seemed flawless. Years ago, as Sandorin had grown wiser he had begun to realize that no matter how much knowledge Visha may have been able to offer, he was just too dangerous to be allowed to continue to roam free. After all, Sandorin had a family to protect, as did so many others in the realms. He had felt it his duty to do something. Tricking him into being locked in this body, incapable of evil acts, even evil thoughts... it was a perfect solution. Sandorin had been so sure of himself.

How could he have known this body would actually become alive. Sandorin's enchantments were flawless on an animated corpse but on a living being... It just wasn't supposed to be that way. And now, to find Visha here, right in the midst of his family, married to his niece, the father of her baby even! The irony of the whole thing was sickening.

Yet, there was something more than that here. He wasn't just dealing with the same Visha in this body. Somehow there were two within this one mind. The Colin that Emalia loved, who had answered Sandorin's questions so truthfully, and Visha just as demented and treacherous as ever but now seeting with a long cultivated hatred. Sandorin didn't know exactly what interaction of magic and lifeforce could have caused this to happen but there was one thing he did know. Emalia loved Colin and Colin felt the same for her.

There was only one thing for Sandorin to do. He had gotten them all in this situation by his actions, now it was going to be up to him to make things right.

Sandorin stopped his pacing at Colin's head, the large man's eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. With a gesture of his hand the body, still contained within the stasis field, rose higher off the floor to chest level. Sandorin looked down into the face before him. The expression was so serene and peaceful, belying the schism contained within. Love and hate, protection and malice. It was up to Sandorin to seperate these two.

At times like this Sandorin was grateful for how many years of his life he had dedicated to finding strength and power in all its forms. He may not have a wife, or children of his own to show for it, but he had knowledge and now that could be used to protect those around him.

Though posessing no particular natural psionic talent of his own he had studied the subject thoroughly. He had a feeling he was going to need every bit of that education now. Sandorin raised his opalescent right hand, reaching through the shimmering field, and laid it gently upon Colin's forehead. Though it was the result of a great tragedy, this magical apendage of his had aided him greatly through the years. Now, just as much as his knowledge, Sandorin was counting on its affinities to get him through this.

Sandorin took several deep breaths to steady his body and focus his resolve. With the final cleansing breath he closed hs eyes. The pearly white hand resting on Colin's head began to glow, pulsing slightly with the beat of Sandorin's heart. A moment later the fingers began to shimmer and then spread, almost as if melting upon the large man's skin, before sinking entirely under the surface.

Sandorin was immediately immersed within a turbulent malestrom. Light and dark swirled about in a chaotic dance. The dark thrashing violently against the light. The light momentarily broken apart before rejoining and repulsing the dark. The dark was viscious and dominating, the light resilient but fractured. Sandorin could tell that it would only be a matter of time before the light would be broken apart entirely, leaving only the dark as a cohesive whole.

Sandorin took action. He focused his will into a shimmering, pearly net. It swept through the expanse before him to collect the darkness. But something was wrong, it wasn't working. Like trying to collect oil floating in water the darkness was slipping through, trailing like little beads that quickly rejoined. The new presence was now noticed and the darkness reacted. It attacked the net, crashing in waves against it, threatening to snap the shimmering strands.

A stabbing pain shot through Sandorin's mind but he steadied himself. With a supreme effort he refocused his will and the shimmering net tightened, forming into a tighter weave. Again it swept through the expanse, this time collecting the dark as it went. But the darkness did not go quietly, it thrashed and plunged mercilessly against the shimmering weave and for Sandorin the pain was excrutiating. For a moment he faltered, and a hole opened.

Just as the darkness began to spill through the light finally came into action. It slammed into the darkness forcing it back through the opening and enveloped the weave, pushing it along. The pain immediately lessened for Sandorin and he quickly enveloped the last of the darkness within the weave. With one tremendous strain that felt like lifting the dead weight of a horse Sandorin pulled himself back from the expanse.

He opened his eyes and blinked, momentarily blinded by the sting of sweat running into them. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath and his robes clung to his damp skin. He quickly wiped the sweat from his eyes with his left hand and looked before him. Colin's motionless body still floated there and above it Sandorin held his pearlescent right arm aloft. Clenched tightly within his fist was a writhing, smoky black mass. Sandorin permitted a small smile to crack his lips before collapsing to the floor.

Thoughts in a bubble

Sanria sank into the bathtub at her home. Though Sandorin and Colin were nearby, she felt nothing would change if she took a few minutes to collect her fleeing thoughts. Her talk with Lithanus, Throm's son, had left her feeling confused, worried, angry, and more than anything, afraid. They had no idea where Throm was, and with his having given black makou to Emalia, Colin turning out to be -at least part- of some evil entity, and Emalia seeming to have vanished off the face of Toril all together - Sanria needed this moment more than ever.

The bubbles popped in a steady hiss around her as she finally touched the bottom of the tub. Sanria leaned back and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Her thoughts brushed over the fact that both she and Lithanus had discussed - no body. Emalia couldn't be dead, otherwise her essence would have been detected or a body located... and neither had come to pass. No one could locate Emalia, and that could be viewed both as a good thing... and a bad.

Sanria's mind then shifted to Throm. Applying the selfsame logic, she knew he could not be dead. There was no body, there was no sense of his essence. But why? Why had he gone off without a word to her, again? Indeed, had he gone of his own will, and was he now in the same place that Emalia was?

While the hot water did rest her tight muscles, Sanria still had a few tears slide down her cheeks. She pulled a wet hand from the water to rest it upon her forehead, sending rivulets of water along her skin and in the same channels as her tears. Why was this happening to her again? Was it something she had done to offend the Gods? She began to fully contemplate breaking off her engagement to Throm (if she ever found him to do such a thing), and suffering only the loss of love rather than the loss of a lover, even though it was already taking place.

Sitting up, Sanria hunched to where her tired face had almost hit the water and began to sob. Memories, hopes, dreams - each and all danced through her head in a parade of visions until one voice broke through the muffled voices of thought. It came to her like a giant bell ringing clearly through the air. 'Sanria...'

Whatever self-loathing and piteous feelings Sanria held for her situation fled like night at the touch of dawn. She lept from the tub, water flying in spatters upon the floor. She nearly fell to the ground, and snatching her towel, she wrapped it around her body and sped to the door. 'THROM!'

Going Home

Emalia fluttered her eyes and focused on the wooden ceiling above. She didn't remember for a moment where she was and allowed her eyes to rove. Her body felt rather stiff and she hadn't yet moved when a voice reached her ears. "Ahh! You are awake! I had feared you might not make it, either..."
"Wh... what... happened?"
"I found you had fallen asleep in the fields below. Passed out it would seem. You have been very ill for several months now."

Emalia suddenly recalled everything - her being drug to this plane by Colin, her being trapped in this very same cabin, her being unable to find anywhere to go in this maddening landscape, and the fact that everyone was telling her she was ill from some disease Grobnak carried.
"And... I am terribly sorry to tell you this, but your baby did not make it."

Emalia's weakened body seemed to sink further into itself. She looked up at the face of Halethiel, tears in her eyes. She was too weak to seek Brin's form. Too weak to verify anything other than the fact that Brin was no longer within her. She had no choice but to believe the emaciated man. She found only enough energy to struggle to a sitting position and raise her hand to wipe at her eyes. Only then did she notice her skin looking almost the color of ash. "On a brighter note," the lank figure continued, "since you have regained consciousness, it would seem that the illness has run its course, and you should be better soon."

Emalia barely heard the words for her own sobbing. She requested Halethiel show her the body of her child, and at the sight of the tiny coffin, her heart broke.
"How... I wasn't sick... I was so sure..."
"We all make mistakes," Halethiel said. "We believe that this happened at some point during your contact with this... Grobnak."
"Grobnak... did this... to me? I can't believe... I can't believe it..."

Emalia could not detect any deception, especially with her current condition. She was informed Colin had been absent for quite some time - though he had apparently visited her weekly, since her falling into sleep. Her worry for her husband increased her "illness," as did the final view of her child - a small, blackening body.

Emalia wanted to grieve, but was almost too exhausted to do even that. She lay back on the bed, growing even more weak. She could not know that her power was cut off from the planet - there was no freeflowing lifestream here to help heal her. She could not know the depths of the lies told to her. She only requested to be left alone - unaware that she, and the body of what she thought was her child, would be transported out of the plane as soon as sleep took her over.

Master of Puppets (Cutting The Cords)

The foolish girl lay asleep in the middle of the field, soft sighs escaping her lips with every breath. He had feigned indifference to her actions when he walked into the cabin. In truth, he had observed her quite closely once inside. The Mind's Eye, his man-sized looking glass, had proven incalculably valuable in his machinations, and this had been no exception.

After a few hours had passed Halethiel hastened down to the red plateau where the girl lay resting, the malleable dreamscape giving itself over to his will as a dark bed took shape beneath her prone form. Waving a hand, the walls of the cottage on the hill above the bed collapsed - taking shape around them: the floor and very air changing shape and swirling coalescing into the interior.

He then worked quickly, his arachnid limbs slipping free of the robes that contained them as he placed a sleeping stone the girl's right hand and tore open the hem of Emalia's robe above her right shoulder, grabbing a quill with one chitinous limb and an inkwell in another, he began jabbing intricate runes into her flesh. He then drew the syllables of rest and cast a spell of sustaining over his subject as he reached with human hands into his robes to retrieve the vial of black makou.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, Halethiel had grabbed the scherinj and poured the ichorous contents of the vial into it. All of his limbs raised together for a moment,the pinnacle of the ritual, he eased himself down into Emalia's ear, his tongue almost flickering as he whispered to her 'We must all make sacrifices to achieve balance, my pet' and thrust the cherinj and its vile fluids deep into her body - and womb - to work its unholy magic.

                                       *     *     *

He watched her over the next few months: the swelling of her belly, the grayish complexion her skin had taken since the injection darkening, and her dreamless sleep were all maintained through a complex set of spells woven about the room and into her tattoo. Occasionally, he would have to intervene and cast a spell of healing to slow the progression of the poison, but it was a small chore when weighed against the potential benefits. He was uncertain, at first, if the child would even survive. Not so now: the unborn infant now seemed to thrive in its slumbering host's womb.

Eventually the time came when the fruit was ripe and had to be plucked from the tree, and, using every weaving limb that he had, Halethiel did just that - delicately slicing the host open and extracting the child, Brin, from Emalia's uterus. Careful to safeguard his prize, he quickly placed the infant in a waiting receptacle to protect it and began tending to his guest's needs.

Taking some coarse black thread, he wove shut her belly, casting spells of healing over the wounds so that only a small scar remained. That done, he let the woman sleep and heal as he went on his first hunt in what seemed as ages, bringing home the heart of a gluttonous woman and placing it in a puppet and giving it the glamour of a dead animation. Placing the 'dead baby' in a waiting coffin, he then prepared the remainder of his lie for the woman, taking care to feed the living infant and stowing her away before resting.

When he awoke the next morning, the tattoo on Emalia's shoulder already re-woven into spells of pure healing, he wiped the sleep from her eyes and told her, chuckling inside to himself all the while at the predictability of humans, what she feared most: Her baby was dead, taken by the illness she was so certain she did not suffer from, and her husband was missing.

Multiple Personalities

It didn't take long for Sandorin to arrive and to take a look over the entangled body that lay on the floor. In light of everything, Sanria and Sandorin made little by way of pleasantries; rather, Sanria came right to the point, telling her brother everything.

As they spoke, Colin grew once more in his ire. "Don't you stand there and talk about me like I'm not even here, not LET ME UP!!"
"Something's wrong here," Sandorin said, examining the man before him. "This isn't the same man I saw a few days ago. This is more like...."
"Like?" Sanria questioned at Sandorin's long pause.
"Visha."

Sanria's small bit of focus upon her spell wavered as a blast of what felt like ice hit her. The last name she had expected to hear from Sandorin's mouth was that one. Visha - a shade that long ago had threatened to reveal her feelings for Thasmudyan at a time when she and Thasmudyan were not free to feel such things, not to mention do such things. Visha - a shade that then thought to offer power in return for use of Sanria's body by inhabiting it. No - this was unbearable in all forms. "And you married them," Sanria managed. "What in the hells is wrong with you men?"

Sandorin spent more time explaining to Sanria what had taken place, all the while, her mind turned over the fact she had Colin in her grasp. As Sandorin talked, the vines within Sanria's control tightened. 'How easy it would be to end this,' she thought. 'How easy to spare Emalia whatever pain this demon has in him. 'My wife' indeed.' Only Sandorin's hand on her arm stopped her, and the vines that were steadily squeezing the air from her victim.
"What do we do now?" Sanria asked quietly.
"Well, something has happened with him becoming alive. What if... what if there are two... in him?"
"Well, how does one fix such a thing?" Sanria asked. She truly didn't care, and it apparently came through in her voice.
"I wouldn't even know where to start. But Sanria, I can tell you one thing. The man that I spoke with truly loves Emalia and only wants the best for her. And Emalia feels the same for him... We owe them to try and fix this."

Sandorin placed a sleep spell over Colin, and both he and Sanria continued talking about Emalia long after. Eventually, Sanria allowed the vines recede, and Sandorin levitated the hulking form from the doorway with the promise of doing what he could. In truth, Sanria would have rather taken her son-in-law's life than let Visha roam the realms again - but Sandorin had a point. Also, to kill her daughter's husband... any hope for a smooth relationship with Emalia would end there... if, that was, she was still alive to have that relationship.

Amidst The Ruins (Aftermath)

Closing the large book, he let it fall ungraciously to the floor. He cast his eyes down at the black rock-like substance that was now his chest. Is that what he was now? A threat to the Planet? A virus? If there Lifestream had indeed been seperated from him, then why was he still alive? Closing his eyes he attempted in vain to work into another explaination...none came. Opening his eyes, he looked out with cold indifference at the ruined room, noting the black crystals which had formed on it's every edge. He spoke to an audience of only himself.

"What's done is done...now it's time to apply the findings I sought." Stepping past the rubble, he opened one of the heavy shutters upon his window, squinting as the morning light came streaming through. Opening his mind, to the world at large he sought out a single mind within the sea of minds which swam before him.

'Sanria...'

Amidst The Ruins (Part I-II)

The smell of smoke and burning flesh lay heavy upon the air. Occasionally a burst of flame would accompany an earth shaking jolt bringing forth the very sounds of shifting rubble. Within the blurred world in which such chaos was unleashed, the form of a tall man with long white hair could be made out. A long slender sword at the man's side glistened in the firelight, suggesting the promise of clean destruction and the sweet release of death. The strange man turned slightly, an unpleasant smile twisting at one corner of his mouth in the manner of one assured of their own superiority. Turning away, the man began to slowy transform...growing. And with him too grew the room, keeping to scale with the monstrosity which now lorded over the chamber. Completely gone was the white haired man, leaving now the horrific view of a creature massive in size. Bittersweet was the creature's aura, terrifying in power while at the same time exuding a strange air of comfort...comfort to those who served. A voice called out weakly. A voice that Throm barely recognized to be his own.

"Mother..."

The part of his mind which still grasped at the elusive foothold of reason ventured immediatly that it must certainly not be his mother of which he spoke. His own mother had passed back into the Lifestream many many years ago, and all that aside, her name held no reason to be here of all places. Yet another voice cooed smoothly into the darkness. Throm recognized this one as well, though it was most definately not his own.

"Yes...Mother. She was with you no doubt?"

Throm blinked his eyes hard. He grew weary of these dreams...too often was he finding himself within them these days. As his eyes began to focus on his surroundings, a dull numbing pain filled every corner of his body. He groaned aloud as he slowly sat up. He was in his Lab...or what remained of it rather. The large table which had spanned the course of his room, now was completely shattered. Probably shattered from his impact upon it, Throm noted as he sat directly center of the rubble. His mind reeled as he attempted to remember exactly what it might have been that brought him to this state. As his own memory went into overdrive, he caught sight of a cloaked figure hunched beside the now broken archway at the head of the room. Instinctively, Throm's hand shot to his side only to find that his sword had been knocked from his side in whatever catastrophe had occured here. Speaking, Throm's voice came out horse, and in a near whisper.

"Seventy Seven..."

Straightening the figure slowly shambled towards him, coming to a stop only when it'd come too close for Throm's own personal comfort. The figure too spoke in a whisper, though this one forced by the raspy nature of it's voice.

"I've been called worse."

"Have you come to set fire to the rest of my home?"

Drawing back slightly, the cloaked figure crossed it's arms about it's chest. When it spoke, it's voice approached that of an odd kind of reverence. "I apologize for anything I have done to cause harm to you. Please know that I did these before I knew us to be brethren joined by our Mother."

Throm stood shakily, gasping slightly at the increased pain. He leaned heavy upon an upright leg of the broken table. Bursting into an unexpected flurry of bitter laughter he shook his head.

"You are not my brother Seventy Seven...the notion that you and I share the same blood offends me. To the Nine Hells with you...you and you're Mom."

The cloaked figure drew back slightly as if surprised by Throm's response. Slowly stepped backwards towards the broken archway, and though Throm could not see it's face, he could hear the sneer in Seventy Seven's voice.

"Blood? No. However we no doubt share the same genetic material now..."

It raised a withered hand pointing directly at Throm's chest. The figure's breath came hollow and raggedy...perhaps in rage, perhaps in the effort of speaking so much.

"You put yourself so high above us uth Bannon. However, do note that none of those within my cast have given Black Makou to innocents...nor have we attacked the Lifestream directly as you have."

The figure chuckled, it's raspy voice appearing strained. Throm looked upon his own chest where Seventy Seven was pointing and saw that his very shirt had been blasted from his torso. To his horror he surveyed the onyx tone and texture which now glistened upon his chest as if a breastplate set within his body. The onyx faded and softened into his normal skin tones the further from the core of his chest his eyes scanned. The memories of the events that occured within the Lifestream flooded back to him all at once. Throm gasped again, though this time not in physical pain, but in the grim realization of what had transpired within the Planet's very core of life. Again the voice which held it's sneering tone, spoke up.

"So come down from your pedestal Cetra...for one who hates our cause so badly you seem ever so eager to flock to it..."

Without another sound, Seventy Seven stepped into the blackened archway it's folds enveloping him as he vanished completely. In stunned silence, Throm collapsed upon the broken boards of his former table, sitting forward. What had happened down there, continued to flood back to him in multiple waves. He had felt his complete disconnect with the Planet within the Lifestream itself. And it was at this point of disconnect that Throm's life had ended completely. He could never forget the hollow feeling of a body devoid of life as his own senses began to fail. This hollowness within him was replaced in short by something else however...something he couldn't quite place, but it was not of this Planet, of that he was certain. With much effort, he stood once more. Searching about the wreckage that used to be his Lab, he finally came upon that which he had searched for. Gripping the ancient leather bound tome in his hands, he carefully pulled open it's cover, delving into knowledge he had forsaken long ago. After but a few minutes he ceased turning the pages of the book as he came to a single passage.

'A human body...it does not catch the same cold twice. Why is this? It is because a body's immune system recognizes a threat and developes a defense against this threat. Each time the same threat attempts to attack the body the immune system immediately recognizes it as a previously marked threat and knows precisely how to fend such a virus off. The Planet is much the same in nature. Within her, is an immune system of great magnitude. Were every threat allowed unrestricted access to the Lifestream, a Planet would wither and die almost immediatly upon creation. When such a threat has been established, the Lifestream has been known to mark it as a 'virus', seperating any Lifestream within such a 'virus' before expelling it.'

Trial By Fire (Part I-II)

Energy rippled rampant across the pulsating green void. Standing upon the small balcony shaped island which floated within the Stream, Throm could feel the very hairs upon his head begin to stand on end...each and every strand energized in it's own right. Stepping forward to the island's ledge Throm nearly ignored the bolt of energy which struck near his foot silently. Reaching into his cloak, he drew forth a black vial...the second one which he had collected from his recent field trip. Immediately the pulsating of the Stream grew more rapid, it's subtle heart beat like tone now accompanied by a dull whine. Throm felt a sick feeling within his stomach as he realized the irony of what he was about to do. Closing his eyes, he blocked out this feeling, recalling his recent argument with Sanria. Her words came back to him as if she were standing beside him.

"Throm... it was a dream!"
"It was not!"
"You said so yourself! You could interact a bit more than normal, but it was still a dream!"
"It wasn't....I'm sure of it. It wasn't just a dream. Like one yes...but not one."

The nausea stemming from his stomach grew more prominent as did the droning whine of the Stream. Shaking his head to clear it, he pushed himself to focus ever the harder on his task at hand. Drawing the stopper from the vial, he clenched his eyes shut tighter, pulling forth his recent memories as if to bolster his resolve in what he was doing.

"In the vision...I was told to retrieve the Black Makou of which we spoke...the substance I found within Sephiroth's Tower. I was to place the Makou in the care of Colin until he could administer it as a cure."

Silence...

"It could kill her....You have given Emalia the antithesis of what she is."

Nearly doubling over now, Throm clasped the ledge to steady himself. He looked upward into the endless green expanse, calling out.

"I'm sorry! This will not wound...only sting. I have to know!"

The whining grew louder, the shrillness of it nearly deafening him. Flashes of bright white blazed around the island...the Planet's disapproval evident to Throm even through his haze.

"Forgive me..."

Letting the vial slip from his fingers it fell into the Lifestream, a black speck amidst a blanket of green silk. At once the whining stopped, leaving the lone sound of a rapidly beating heart to fill Throm's eardrums. The sick feeling vacated the pit of his stomach, and he was able to catch his breath in relief. Suddenly, the black speck began to grow as if feeding upon the very Lifestream itself. Clutching the ledge once again, Throm immediately regretted his actions. How could a virus cure a virus? This was not something in the way of a common cold...no. It would continue to devour Life's energy until only it would remain. Realization dawned upon him. There was no way a single mortal body would have the constitution to fend off such a parasite whether it be in the form of an actual virus, or a 'cure'. A new question gripped him, accompanying this realization. Did the Planet itself have the constitution to resist the Black Makou? Did the Planet have the ability to fend off that which he had just subjected it to?

As if on que, the sound of a million screams split through the void. As tendrils of silky energy moved to intervene the Dark Lifestream, Throm clutched his ears in a vain attempt to block out the deafening noise which rang within his head. Such was his pain that he did not notice as the tendrils of Lifestream encompassed the Black Makou as though attempting to contain it.

Flash after flash of bright green light forced Throm back from the ledge, his hands still clasped about his ears. He did not notice as the tendrils did not manage to scale the Black Makou back down. Rather through the blinding pain which burned his mind apart he wondered how it could come to pass that his dream had been wrong. Two chips...two chips that were of the same color.

The dream...

Colin's odd behavior..

A new chip landed within the pot of events collected within Throm's now tormented mind.

Colin's dream...

The blob that was now the Dark Lifestream rose level with the small island upon which Throm staggered. Though now it moved to the will of the Planet itself, it's tendrils carefully guiding it...shaping it.

Through his ever increasing haze, Throm recalled Colin's words which had been lost in the assumption that they had meant little at the time.

"Dream... .dream....I had completely forgotten it but I had a strange dream."

"Mystra?"

"No, it was strangely vivid. A man who called himself Halethiel. I'm sorry... it's still quite hazy. I think he had something to do with the Jihad...I'm sorry... this isn't making much sense, is it?"

"Nor were dreams meant to..."

The puzzle peices had been layed upon the table long ago...yet now, they fit into place...and now Throm's vision had a name. He had been duped. The Dark Lifestream shifted and writhed before the island, still held in check by the everpresent tendrils of green. At once, as though firing it from a catapult, the tendrils launched the Dark Lifestream directly at Throm. The impact of the black energy striking him in the chest knocked him backwards off from his feet. If there was pain involved, it came long after he had lost consciousness.

Into The Ocean

Slowly materializing within the large room, Throm sighed in the form of a well released exhale. As if sensing his presence, a large fireplace on the far end of the chamber burst to life. Illuminating the large table amid room, it cast the table's strange shadows to all corners of the room, emulating the visage of dancing wraiths upon the walls.

He had in fact, gained little from his 'discussion' with Grobnak. Throm's own frustrations gave way to the strange feeling he had gotten that the Rok demon actually cared for the wellbeing of Emalia. Grobnak's actions and apparent defensiveness on the issue had summoned suspicions which Throm could not ignore however. Sighing wearily once again, Throm slowly paced to a large empty arch at the head of the room. There were too many odd events as of late to be mere chance. Such events were becoming stacked as chips within Casino Nights.

The stolen Jenova Cells... The appearance of the Old Foe... The dream... Finding Black Makou within Jihad hands... Emalia sick and then disappearing along with the Black Makou... Colin's odd behavior...

Standing before the arch, Throm closed his eyes, willing the Planet's doorway open. After a moment the darkened archway burst into life, lit by an energy of bright green. Standing before the gate he cast a glance back to the room which offered safety and simplicity. Were one standing near him, they would have heard the whispered words which left his mouth before he plunged himself into the green lit gateway. His words however, fell upon no ears.

"I must give in to intuition once more if I am to set events right. I don't know how this will end...only the direction in which to tread. I know I gave my word, Sanria...and I'm sorry."

Captive (1-2)

Throm had gone and Sanria pulled up one of the chairs in the room. She gave a deep sigh as she watched Colin thrashing about on the floor. "You may as well stop. You cannot fight nature." Sanria watched as Colin's face grew red. "Emalia is not your dog, Colin. She doesn't belong to any of us."
"She belongs to me, she belongs with me, and if that creature has taken her..."
"No," Sanria sighed. "Don't you think, Colin, that I've endured this as well?"
"You keeping me here could be the very thing that takes her away - have you thought of that?"
"You understand nothing but presume to know everything," Sanria said, letting out yet another sigh. She leaned forward, looking down at the large man whose face was burning with intensity.
"Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing of you."
"I know you are worried, Colin. I am too." Sanria paused a moment, her worst fears about her daughter being confirmed. Due to this black makou business, Emalia was nowhere to be found. She hung her head at her next words, "But already, Throm's lack of thought has landed us here. He rushed here to give you two something that should not have been freely given. Now, the result is that it and my daughter are missing."
"But right now.. he could have her.. doing... who knows what to her."

Colin again struggled with the vines, though finding himself still restrained did nothing to slow him down. In fact, his face grew more red with every renewed effort he gave. It did unnerve Sanria a bit seeing him so upset. If anything happened where her spell would falter, she didn't know what he might do. "I want you to think for a moment of when you have your own daughter."
"Because of you I might not even HAVE my daughter! How can you do this, do you not care at all!?"

The words stung Sanria deeply. Immediately, she felt that it wasn't worth attempting to discuss. She knew that the moment she allowed Colin up, he would either commence thrashing her, or he would bolt from the door and put Emalia into even worse danger. She was in no way prepared for the words that were to come from her captive: "Maybe Emalia was right and that IS why you decided to just leave her behind and chase your own whims."

Sanria sat up, tilting her head to the side. A couple renegade tears rolled from her eyes as she looked down upon Colin. "What?"
"After she took care of you for all that time and once Thasmudyan came back you didn't have time for her anymore."

Sanria sat back with a sad smile. Again she was confronted with the thoughts of her daughter. The shame she felt as well as the pain of knowing how her actions drove her daughter from her life washed over her anew. "Do you see right now how you treat me?" she asked, waving a hand. The vines sprung immediately to life, wrapping themselves around Colin's mouth and head. He could still see, but speaking was no longer a luxury. "How you drop everything else because your lover is in danger?"

Sanria once again leaned forward, not bothering to hide her emotions now. Tears were in her eyes, as was rage that she had not yet been able to vent. Her face was red, blotchy, and contorted. "After eighteen years of being insane, having my own daughter taking care of me, I find the one person I had been seeking in my mind for EIGHTEEN YEARS. I didn't leave her, I was overcome with absolute joy that my lover... the one man that meant the world to me, the FATHER of YOUR WIFE had returned to me. Of COURSE I wanted to spend time with him!"

Only a sob forced Sanria to pause. "GODS you think you understand but you won't even look at your own situation to GET IT! I NEVER stopped loving Emalia, Colin. No matter what YOU or SHE may think. You would run off in an instant to save her? WELCOME TO MY WORLD. I find her and she acts as though I'm dirt, never understanding... never bothering to. Just like you. You will NOT get my daughter hurt, nor anyone else I love because you bullheadedly think she is the only living thing in the realms. I'm sorry. Throm will speak with Grobnak and you WILL wait."

Sanria wiped her eyes, letting out a couple more sobs, before finally letting Colin's mouth free. "At least I won't keep you here eighteen years waiting on it."

The tirade did nothing and Colin continued on, unrelenting. His ire rose until suddenly, he laid upon the floor, looking calm. "How did I end up down here?"

The question stopped Sanria for a moment, and she stared at the man in disbelief. She could not comprehend why Colin would ask such a thing, and this, coupled with his absolute rage, his sudden calm... her only recourse was to call on her brother. She was not going to sit in the room any longer with the chance that another odd change in Colin would crop up.

Going On a Grobnak Hunt (1-2)

Throm and Sanria arrived back at the caverns and headed directly to the room where they knew Colin and Emalia to be staying. The door opened almost at the same moment Sanria knocked. "Sanr... um, mom."
"Hello, Colin."
"I was just about to come talk to you."

The three exchanged a few more greetings as Sanria walked into the room. Emalia was obviously absent, making Sanria only slightly worried. "Where is Emalia?"
"That's exactly what I was going to ask you...I woke up this morning and she was gone."
"Gone?"
"She didn't leave via the Cavern entrance... this much I know," Throm said. The response seemed to irritate Colin a bit.
"Well how do you know she didn't leave?"
"I told you I'd keep watch from afar... I have kept my word until now."
"Well," Sanria interrupted, hoping to soothe the situation, "Emalia we can find. I'm sure she's just gone off to do... something or other."
"I just wouldn't expect her to just wander off... not now," Colin added with a deep sigh.
"You still have the black makou, yes? It's why we came."
"Yes," Colin answered, "it's right over..." Colin stopped, looking at the nightstand. "Well, it was right here..."
"You kept it on the nightstand?" Sanria asked incredulously.
"Well I didn't think it was going to just get up and walk away. I'm telling you, it was right here." Colin looked through the sheets on the bed while Sanria looked to Throm. Without projecting such thoughts, she frowned at him. 'I told you.'
Throm, however, didn't seem to notice. "It's not here."
"Do you think... she took it?"

The very notion almost made Sanria scoff. "Emalia wouldn't have touched that stuff if it is what I believe it to be... but with her, I never know for sure."

Colin turned to both Sanria and Throm with irritation clear upon his face. "Just what is going on here? Can't either of you find her, you know, with some kind of magic or something?"

Sanria turned to the windows with a sigh and closed her eyes. Though Colin and Throm continued speaking, she didn't hear them. In the same manner she sought out Throm, she sought out Emalia. Her mind stretched through the very earth itself, yet nothing in nature had any idea where her daughter was. It was unnerving, but she tried again, this time seeking Emalia's very essence... and found nothing. She spoke out, attempting to find Emalia's mind, but found nothing.

In a desperate bid to be certain, she shouted into Colin's mind, "COLIN!"
"What are you doing?" he asked, hunching down. "I'm right here!"
"She's not here... she's... she's nowhere. I tried, I tried seeking her mind, her essence, she's not here. She's..."
"Pardon?" Throm asked.
"How can she not be here? You are certain she did not leave?" Colin asked Throm. "Are you positive?"
"My guardian would have alerted me the second either you or Emalia left the waterfall," Throm replied with a nod.
"Where... where could she be? There just nothing... Nothing. Throm, try." Sanria looked at Throm, her face pale and full of concern.

Throm, too, closed his eyes and sought out Emalia. Colin's face contorted with a touch of rage as he waited. "No... he wouldn't dare."
"Who wouldn't?" Sanria asked. "What are you talking about, Colin?"
"Grobnak. If he has some hand in this-"
"I won't claim to hear the planet's voice anymore....but I get the feeling that the Lifestream does not recognize her presence," Throm interrupted.

Colin walked to the table, grabbing up his sword. Sanria's eyes opened wide. "Where are you going?"
"I've had enough of this. I'm going to do something."
"Just you wait a minute," Sanria shot. "Everyone seems to have forgone thought in favor of the rash." This did nothing to slow the massive Colin from striding toward the door. "Stop! Don't you see... just wait a minute!"
"It's obvious that all of this 'searching' isn't getting anywhere. I'm going to get answers. You both can stay here in this room if you want."
"Colin, I want to know where she is too, but I'll not run off with the posibility of hurting her. Now WAIT."
"No," Colin said, glaring at Sanria. "You wait. I'm going to go find my wife. The two of you can stay here and think until you both pass out but for all I know Grobnak had done something to her and I intend to find out."

The audacity sent Sanria into a bit of a rage. How could this man refuse to see that his temper just might cause more trouble? Sanria walked to him, stuffing a finger in his chest as she spoke. "Listen. That is my daughter and my grandchild. If you run off causing trouble with things you don't understand, you might get her hurt, wherever she is."Throm spoke as Sanria's hand was shoved away. "Grobnak... perhaps I should speak to him. His name is popping up an awful lot lately."
"Better you than this hot head," Sanria snorted.

Still, Colin insisted upon storming out. Sanria could only think of what trouble it could cause, upsetting the Jihad. She had dealt with a couple of them on occasion, and while they didn't seem as vile as others she'd dealt with, she couldn't help but realize they'd go to any lengths to acheive their objectives. She didn't worry on the consequences as she encanted a spell, entangling Colin's feet to the floor with vines. "Wait, I said."

Colin hit the floor with a crash, and turned to stare at Sanria with a burning glare. "What do you think you are doing!?"
"Making you use that brain of yours." Sanria gave a sigh as she turned back to Throm. "Will you be safe speaking with Grobnak?"
"YOU do not tell ME what to do! I'm going to go do something about MY missing wife!"

Before waiting for Throm's reply, Sanria glared down at Colin, her finger pointed threateningly. "In a minute I will have you completely entwined. Now settle down." Quickly, she renewed the strength of her spell, her vines obediantly coiling about Colin's feet and legs. She looked again to Throm. "Go... find Grobnak and I'll keep this gentleman here with me."

Throm walked to Colin and nearer to the door. He took a moment to kneel down, resting a hand on Colin. "If we're going to find her, we'll need to work as a team... not against each other."

Romance?

Nisstyre's Tavern was relatively quiet and as always, it was out of the way. The whole tavern itself was rather dark, so Sanria found it nice that Throm laid a hand on her shoulder first. With a bit in the way of greetings, the two sat down at the table where Throm had been quite hidden.

Sanria sat, thinking briefly how odd it was that she hadn't yet told Emalia that she was engaged to Throm. Admittedly, with the reception she had from Emalia *without* telling her, she wasn't sure when the right time would occur. Then she looked at Throm and smiled in return of his smile. "Hello, Sanria. I hope I've found you well today.""I would have been so much better were it not for that fright you sent to deliver the missive, but I will forgive you," Sanria grinned."I'll admit freely that romance was never my strong suit."

Hearing that this was an attempt at romance settled Sanria a little, though as she thought about this, she realized just how little she and Throm ever really did... how little they ever really touched... but such thoughts finally left her mind at the sight of Throm's expression fading into something more serious. How rare she got to have a day with him where there wasn't something creasing his face. 'So,' she thought, 'this isn't about romance after all.'

Throm began to tell her of his dream in which Emalia was said to have a virus given her by Grobnak, and how he was told to give as a cure black makou, to Colin. It shocked Sanria deeply that Throm would set off to do anything based on a simple dream, and even more that he would have given a substance so detrimental to Emalia and Colin after all they had been through in the north. It made her angry, but she tried her best not to show it. After all, she didn't believe Throm would to anything without good reason for it. Still, she knew that the only answer would be to go to Emalia and Colin and get the vial back (and this prospect frightened her terribly - knowing how volitile she and Emalia seemed to be anymore).

Sanria could tell by the expression on Throm's face that she had dealt him some sort of blow. She couldn't hide the fact that she didn't believe his dream. She moved to his side of the table, putting a hand gently on his cheek, then to his hands. "We will have to work on this, you know. Communication."
"I know."
"For now, I am definitely worried. In a way... I'm worried simply because Emalia *is* a lot like me... Prone to sometimes do silly things." Sanria let out a small chuckle. They discussed Emalia only a little longer before rising from the table, ready to set off to reclaim a substance that spelled nothing but wretchedness. Sanria hoped as they walked that she had prompted them to do the right thing - both for Emalia, and for themselves. She walked with her arm around his waist, thinking over so many of her decisions.

Invitation

Sanria touched along the hull of her ship with light fingers. The cavern this morning, as always, was sparkling with the light of the millions of crystals embedded within the walls. The din of the waterfall, made almost silent by a magic spell cast long before it was her home, echoed lightly in her ears. The dints and long scratches, even some gashes, caused her fingers to move up and down and she sighed. She might have to take on a few cargo runs to pay someone to hammer out and replace the hull in many places. Her mind wasn't on much else when a walking suit of armor entered the caverns, halting right in the middle.

After everything Sanria had endured in the north, having arrived home not long ago, she immediately went on high alert. She pulled out her whip, ready to attack. "You... get out of here! Get out of my home... OUT!"

The armor lifted a hand in a gesture that reminded Sanria of someone giving their word, no violence would be done here. After a moment of hesitation, Sanria recoiled her whip and locked it back onto her hip. In the palm of the warrior's hand was a scroll, tiny, and tightly rolled. "What a messenger. I'm telling you."

The armor laid the scroll down and backed away as Sanria reached it, opened it, and began to read:

Dearest Sanria,
 
My apologies I couldn't meet you here myself, however I feel that given circumstances as of late such acts might be inappropriate on my behalf.  Though the journey is a long one indeed I wondered if you might see fit to meet me at Nisstyre's Tavern in Westbridge.
 
With all hopes that I might see you soon.

Yours truly, and truly yours,

Throm

Sanria frowned and looked toward the entrance of the cavern. It seemed whenever she heard, or read, the words, "Throm, circumstances, inappropriate, apologies," her stomach churned and she worried. She let a small sigh and shook her head, and without a word to the armor in her home, walked off toward Westbridge. "I'm not sure I like this."

Dreamless Sleep

Emalia hadn't kept track of the time. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting in the cottage, but the only sound she had heard was her own sobbing. "Emalia," the controlled voice called.

Immediately, Emalia snapped her head up to see the tall man, his white robes and black mantle seemingly marking him as one with no affiliations what-so-ever - a blight of colorless darkness in a world that seemed completely comprised of every color the world could haveoffered. "Who are you..."
"This precaution was deemed necessary to keep you, and the Realms, safe while we research a cure for your ailment."
"I'm NOT SICK!" Emalia screamed. She stumbled to her feet, looking around the man. Noticing suddenly, Colin was missing. "Where is Colin?"
"He has gone to gather more materials for us to help you. If you are not ill, time will show it, and you have only lost time in the outside world. If you are mistaken, how many lives would be lost?"

Emalia thought on this for only a second before spitting out her retort: "I'm not wrong. I KNOW it. Let me out of here." She pushed past the man, the very act of brushing against him sending her into chills. "I want out, NOW. NOW!"

The man before her looked only very remotely irritated, as he waved his hand almost casually to make the entire cottage vanish. "You are free to roam about this region, Emalia."

It was indescribable, the terror that hit Emalia as she looked around herself. The full colors that swirled each time the wind blew, the sky - now an unnatural shade of pink, the acres of red moss that grew beneath her feet, and forests of trees that somehow - weren't quite right.
"This... is not natural. Oh heavens... this is not natural," she whispered to herself.
"We are in the dream of The Apprentice. You are safe here," Halethiel spoke.
"What mean you?"
"This is the world as it was meant to be, before Ao interfered. It is only you and I here. Others cannot be infected by your illness here, until we find a cure. I truly hope that we are wrong and you are not ill, as you say."

Emalia did not believe this in the least. Calm began to come from her, but unlike the times prior, when she had been walking upon the face of the real world, this calm was short lived. It wore her down considerably, and made her incredibly weary. There was no way for her to understand that she was drawing upon herself alone now... no lifeforce reached this place save the amount she was made with. She was too afraid to move, and to drained to think. Halethiel had walked off to the distant cabin, leaving her alone. Even if she had wanted to, the walk to the cabin was out of the question. She curled into a ball upon the ground, time passing achingly slow all around her, and finally, dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

Wind blows Wicked

The compression of the void upon her was tremendous, and it verily pressed the air from her chest. Just when the panic had risen to its breaking point, and Emalia was beginning to truly fight for what she thought was her life, she and Colin arrived through the portal and into a plane like none other.

"Colin! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Emalia nearly screamed. Now it seemed that Colin had nothing to say to her at all, as he promptly released her and began looking around.

Emalia shook her head in irritation, and her eyes immediately caught the sight of a man that stilled the breath in her chest for yet a second time today. He was tall, with a face that looked almost undead in its appearance. His expression was one of perfect indifference as he looked on the two calmly, then to Emalia with a nod. "Well met, Emalia."
"Colin..." Emalia began, ignoring the greeting. Something was very wrong here, very wrong indeed. "Who is that man?"
"Have you brought my fee for keeping the woman safe?"

Colin pulled from his tunic the very same vial of black makou that had been given him by Throm. Emalia couldn't believe her eyes. "Colin!" she gasped, rushing to grip her husband's arm. "You just gave him black makou!!!"
"Your safety is being assured," the tall, withered man said calmly.

Emalia couldn't believe the look upon Colin's face. She had never seen anything like it - irritation. As if she were a nuisance to be pushed away. "You will be fine and I will return for you later," he said with a marked coolness.

"I have no say in this?" Emalia asked, her voice rising slightly in pitch. Her head was simply swimming. She wanted to cry, to scream, to run away... but all around her was the oddest reality she'd ever seen. Red moss on the ground, swirling colors of wind, purple skies -

"No, I'm afraid you don't."

"It was necessary for me to obtain this substance so that it could be studied, and we can combat its effects on the waking world." Halethiel then continued, "You have a say in all things. In this, your voice has been quieted, I'm afraid."

Emalia's eyes filled with tears, but before she could say anything, she found herself locked within a cottage. She spun around in a panic, there were no doors. While the insides were well furnished - a bed, a desk, and all the accoutrements of home - it was still a prison; Emalia's prison. She raced to the walls, dragging nervously twitching fingers along the wood. There was nothing false about it - it was real... and there was no way out.

With a few more moments spent in frantic search, Emalia sat in the middle of the floor, afraid to even seat herself on the luxurious chairs by the fire. There was nothing she could do, but dread, contemplate, sob, and wait.

Into the Vortex

"Wake up. You have to get up."

Emalia felt a grip on her shoulder that stunned her into wakefulness. Whatever Colin wanted, it was urgent. "Wha... what is it?" Emalia pulled herself from the bed, rubbing her eyes. Just hours before, Throm had left and they had spoken little before sleeping once again. She found it strange that already, something else had happened.
"Throm contacted me, he found something," Colin said with a touch of haste.
"He... when? He came back?"

Colin had already rounded the bed. With this question, he gripped her hand and pulled her completely to her feet. "No, he contracted me through the Guardians. Come, we have to go."

Emalia, still waking, found Colin's quick, almost snappish manner strange. She wasn't sick, Colin was. So why - "He left me an item to open a portal to him, in case something happened. I have already activated it, we just have to go." Colin latched his hand around Emalia's and began to pull her toward the corner. There sat a swirling grey vortex - its short, whispy tentrils snaking out, as if searching for a person to step through.

"Wait," Emalia said, fear creeping into her voice. "Just, wait..." Colin had no hesitations. Emalia leaned back, pulling against him, but still he walked to the vortex, practically dragging her behind him. "Colin! Stop this!"
"Emalia, there is no time. You could be in danger."
"I'm not in danger, I'm fine!"

This managed to have Colin stop, but the crushing grip he kept on Emalia's hand still alarmed her. He turned his grey eyes on her, looking almost stern. "No, you're not. Now let's go."

There was no room for Emalia to say anything, try as she might. "Colin, I don't like this... I don't want to go in here..."
"Don't worry, you'll understand soon enough, right now we have to go."

Colin pulled her to the front of the vortex. Just seeing the tendrils of etherial energy snaking around her arm and shoulder made Emalia tremble. The last time this happened, she was asleep. Awake, the portal was terrifying. "Colin!"

"It's just like the last time, don't worry, all will be better soon." Roughly, Colin pulled Emalia to him. "Mmmm... that's nice. Well, in we go." Emalia had no time to ponder the response, or protest. Colin stepped into the grey void, taking Emalia right along with him.

Hormonal Imbalances

Emalia sat on the edge of the bed with her tears rolling down her cheeks. Once again she had completely made a fool of herself, and while the rest of the realms knew pregnancy could make a woman crazy, no one left a memo for Emalia. All she knew is that when Throm showed up before dawn saying something was wrong with her, then not really believing her when she said she was fine - the anger she had over his interference with her parent's "happily ever after" and his doubt of her understanding of herself boiled over.

Apparently, someone from somewhere had informed Throm that Emalia had contact with Grobnak which left her infected with something like hemelia. Emalia knew this wasn't true, she could see directly into herself, she could search her very essence for anything impure, and nothing was there. But with Colin holding her hands, she could sense, like the rumble of a storm on the horizon, something was amiss.

She didn't seek out what it was, but it didn't seem to matter. While Colin believed her words, Throm seemed uncertain. It burned her up to know that he still doubted her, he still didn't believe. 'Arrogant,' she thought to herself. Then Throm was simply ready to leave without a word of what this "disease" might be, or what they could do to help Colin.

Emalia was outraged, and even more irritated that she couldn't control the torrent of feelings that shuddered through her body. Throm had come in the small hours of the morning - it was obvious by that act something was dreadfully wrong, but he was dismissive, stating all would be well. 'Like hell,' Emalia thought. He was putting her husband in danger, and possibly herself, and her baby. "You may have taken my mother, but I won't let you take Colin!"

The brief look of shock on Throm's face was replaced with a small smile that drove Emalia mad."I don't intend to take anyone Emalia...believe me."

At that instant, Emalia was ready to seek out Grobnak for herself. She wouldn't risk venturing into Colin to discover what was in there, since it could harm Brin, but she would seek out the man who did this to him. Colin tried to calm her as these thoughts raged through her.

"My timing was off...I should have waited for the morning. I came not because I feared you both would vanish overnight. I acted upon selfish impulse in the service of self pacification by knowing you two were okay," Throm said."Selfish." Emalia glared at Throm now. "Seems that way."

Listening to Colin finally, Emalia walked to the bed and sat with her head in her hand, just as she sat now. Colin and Throm had walked out, and she simply couldn't help the tears. For these moments, she was glad to have Colin. For on both sides, no one trusted her it seemed, except for him. He was her saving grace, and she tried to rid herself of the tears before he returned.

Silent Persistence

It had been a while now since the return to West Bridge. Many things had changed, but the objective remained the same.

Though he had much to attend to, and could not personally maintain the observation of the young woman, the task of keeping an eye on her was being carried out, nevertheless. And though they had apparently "disappeared" once or twice, fortunately picking-up their trail again soon after had not proven very difficult; especially given the "distinctiveness" of her companion.

Even so, Xarkuss would, on a constant basis, do his own bit of observation and reconnaissance. And on more than a few occasions was set to take-off behind the couple on their journey; though for one reason or another it would be put-off every time, and by the looks of things, was not likely to take place anytime soon.

There were too many entities involved now, and even more affected. Too many different parties, with too many different agendas...

Xarkuss knew that only sensible thing to do now, was to sit back, watch,  and just wait and see. "I wonder who'll be making the next move..."

No Stone Unturned (Part I-II)

He awoke with a start. Sweat clung to his chest, gleaming from him in the low lantern light like that of a madman. Throm rolled out of his bed, the cold contact of his bare feet upon the floor bringing him to full awareness. His tides of rage ebbed as did the most vivid of details of his dream, leaving a hollow chill to run it's course through his very core being. Walking slowly through the door of the bathroom which ran adjacent to his chambers, Throm breathed a soft word and dipped his hands into the cool water which now gurgled from a silver basin. Bringing the water to his face, he sighed as it ran down his cheeks as if washing away the harsh realization of the dream. "My list of enemies grows larger these days..." he muttered to himself. Throm returned to his chambers, reaching into his wardrobe to pull a loose black shirt about his torso. Stepping into a pair of equally black pants, he gazed out of the window judging the time to be late of night by the looks of the total lack of sunlight in the sky. Throm considered the possibility of notifying Sanria as he threw his cloak about his shoulders. He shook his head at once, chasing such thoughts from his head. It was early, and it would only serve to worry her further. No...he would handle this now and then inform Sanria in short order once Emalia was fine. After all, though the daughter of Sanria was no longer officially within the ranks of the Crimson Guardians, Throm had always felt it's members bound by far more than formality. As such, if Emalia or Colin were in danger he would see to it that such a danger were put to rest. Not to mention the fact that he would not watch another plague run rampant across the Realms. A brief flash of anger shot through him at the thought of Grobnak using a living being...one carrying a child no less as a vessel for his insane plots. And within that brief flash he desired no less than to unleash hell upon the Jihad Compound. To put an end to the latent threat that had plagued the Great Realms for so long. Slowly his demeanor calmed, and only then...when the red had faded from his vision, did he allow himself to think freely. No...he in fact would go to the Jihad Compound, but only to retrieve the Black Makou which Grobnak had originally used to infect Emalia. Tonight there would be no vengeance...such wasn't his style. Tonight he would be nothing more than a whisper upon a dark breeze.

The rain pattered lightly upon the ground, soothing even Throm's nerves after the traumatic message he had been given. In the near distance, he could spot the lights of the Jihad Compound. They were dim, though easily spotted among the darkness of the night. Deciding that a simple spell of concealment would not suffice, he instead took a deep breath and concentrated. Concentrated on nothing short of the removal of his being from reality itself. At once he was enveloped in a warm feeling that seemed to eject him into all directions at the same time. Opening his eyes, the world now appeared black and white. Devoid of color he knew now that he was no longer a participant, but now a spectator within the world he called home. Raising a hand in the direction of the Jihad Compound, Throm willed time itself to slow down...or was it him who would live faster? Regardless, he allowed the deep breath to escape his mouth as the rain drops suddenly began falling as if someone had suddenly cut the throttle threefold. He looked to the tip of his hand where the rain fell straight through what would have been flesh...were he a member of linear existance. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of the two guards who stood to either side of the entrance to the grove in which lay the headquarters of the Jihad. He had observed these guards before on routine surveillance excursions. Tonight was different though. Not just due to the fact that the insubstantial world about him had all of a sudden slowed to a crawl. The mannerisms in which the guards went about their ways were different tonight. One sat nearby the other one, seemingly locked in conversation. Thinking no more of it, Throm brushed past the two, finding himself at the downward entrance into the Compound. Flitting around a passing Jenovese, Throm soon found himself inside the large lab of the Jihad, looking upon a huge vat filled with a black substance which seemed to move of it's own accord. He reached down and filled two vials from a spout at the bottom of the vat.
"One for you...one for me. Time to find out exactly what this stuff does." he whispered to himself.

Quickly he moved towards the exit of the Compound, pausing only once near a statue of a Rok demon bearing the likeness of Grobnak. The one who had started this all.
"You raving fool....what have you done now?"