"Calliope (part 1)" by Samuel Kisko

"Out, it's time..", a gruff barkeeper spoke aloud. He mumbled to himself and rubbed the wooden counter with a worn rag. Several patrons spilled vegtables and roast fowl on to his counter and he brushed it on to the ground. The flakes of white cooked meat smeared and often created a worse mess than before, but he scrubbed in a continuous pattern with an emotionless face. Two hungry kittens waited below the barkeep with hungry eyes. They often fought with each other when a scrap of meat fell to the ground. However, they were surprisingly quiet as not to incur the wrath of the barkeep.

"You going to the Equinox festival tomorrow?", Aubree asked. She gazed at a mug of Ale, slowly circling the top with her hand as if uninterested.

"Maybe. You think they'll bring the cage fighters again?", Ardel replied.

"Likely". Her eyes fixated on the mug, watching ripples of liquid Ale pulse with her circling hand. Her finger slowly dipped in and she started to make long ellipses in the thick liquid.

Ardel smiled to himself, a slight glimmer appearing in his green eyes. "You remember the Bard last year?"

"Quiet the character", Aubree added.

"I've never seen anyone use a sword in each hand so assured. And the flute thing was simply amazing", Ardel noted.

"Out, it's time..", a gruff bartender spoke aloud. He began to pick up wooden chairs and place them atop tables. Two kittens still patrolled his feet in hope of more snacks.

Aubree began to reply, "I did like the flute it was nice...", her finger rotated in a figure eight pattern in the Ale. Her short blond hair began to fold over her face as she stared down into the brass mug.

"Nice? Aubree my dear, it was incredible! Nothing short of masterful! Three men-"

Aubree interrupted, "Two men".

"Two men, much bigger than he I may add, he had bested in hand to hand combat while playing the flute with as much skill as Noberon, the God of Music!", Ardel embellished, "Had he been any more awesome he would have played the flute from his buttocks while wrestling a Dragon!"

Aubree looked at him.

Ardel looked back with a glare. A glare that looked as if he was defending his child from certain death.

"Out, it's time..", the barkeep yelled while brushing the room with a large broom. Two kittens slowly meowed in unison behind him with each brush stroke.

"You going to the grove tomorrow?", Aubree asked. She pulled her wet finger from the mug of Ale and proceded to glide her thumb on the rim of the mug.

"Don't do that." Ardel said unceremoniously.

"Do what?", she asked.

"Just don't do that..", Ardel said mootly, "..I think I will go to the grove tomorrow. I think they finally caught on to me after I broke the window three nights in a row."

"Good idea", Aubree added. Her eyes grew soft and they showed her pity.

"For a few days at least", he said, "Hope I don't run into any of them damn Elves!", and he smiled.

"Out, its time...", The barkeep yelled as he slammed the window shudders closed. Eight furry little paws followed in his footsteps as if mimicking his every move.

She glared at Ardel and her smallish pointed ears seemed to gather more attention than needed. "There are no Elves in Tulpas forest, the trees are too small. You should be quite at home."

"Be nice now!", Ardel snorted.

Aubree smiled and cupped the hot Ale in her slender hands and she slowly sipped.

"I'll be back for the festival. I'll meet you there, okay?", Ardel asked.

"Sure", she said.

"I think from there I will travel North", he said with a serious face.

"Mordock? Or maybe to Hule?", she asked.

"Maybe to Hule, I have a few friends to see", Ardel sat quiet for a moment, "You're welcome to go if you wish".

Aubree sipped her mug once again, "How is the wine in Hule?"

"Well", he replied.

"I'll think on it, though I pictured myself more in the wanderlands", she said.

"Out, its time!", the barkeep yelled closing on the table where Ardel and Aubree sat. Two kittens rubbed his legs as he tried to walk toward them.

Ardel smiled, "I'll see you at the festival then Elvish one!".

Aubree smiled back.

"Out, its time!", the barkeep blew out the candle at the two friends' table. Two kittens from beneath meowed furiously, looking upward toward the table.

Ardel slowly got up and stretched. Aubree did as well and the contrast in height was much greater when the two were standing next to each other. Ardel stood over a foot taller that she, and he was by no means a large man. Ardel gave the demure elf a quick hug and then placed a few coins on the table for the meal. The barkeeper quickly picked up the coins and lifted the two chairs onto the table. Aubree picked up her heavy blue cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

"Out, it's time!"

"Out, it's time!"

Ardel had wandered into the security of the deep forest many days ago, he knew no one in there right mind would follow him here! In doing so however he clumsily put himself at risk from the terrors of the lost groves. Wild Beasties, Thieves, and dangerous terrain filled with cliffs, sinkholes, and other horrors. His life in the City was a spoiled one. Only now did he realize how lucky he had been in the secluded city. His negligible amount of food and water was running dangerously low and he needed new supplies badly. He quickly developed a new respect for the Rangers and Elves that live in such peril constantly. To his luck he managed to track down a mud hole and sipped a few precious sips of water. His stomach growled and he yearned for the smell of charred meat. Ardel knew other creatures may know of this spot and he thought it wise to kill something and devour it. He thought of many plans to gain his dinner. Wait behind a bush, making a pit, but he decided to place a few Husha berries on the ground and wait in a tree above it. Perhaps he would get lucky and a creature would come his way to dine on the berries. He then clutched a large rock and climbed up the tree and attempted to hide. He pictured dropping the very large rock on the creature's head, or perhaps leaping utop it wrestling it to the ground. By the Gods I'm brilliant! He thought to himself.

Many hours past and the rest did Ardel good as he waited under the tree in hope something would come his way. The long voyage through the grove drained him more than he thought. Morning became noon and fate had dictated that a thirsty Tarpan would come to mud hole in search of water. The Tarpan was known as a creature truly smitten by fate; it was a slow and ungraceful creature. The Tarpan looked vaguely horse-like although much shorter and squatter with broad backs and unflattering guttural voices that irritated most every known creature with ears. Unfortunately for the Tarpan, they are quiet a delicious meal. Even the great Fire Drakes who only eat rock and minerals will stop and dine on a lonely Tarpan. Blessed with both minuscule mental functions and dull sensory factors, the Tarpan is often frightened by its own shadow and walks into large trees in full daylight. This Tarpan slowly guided its was through the rocks in a endless search for food. Its large snout caught the scent and indeed it saw the berries and cautiously walked around the plate. Ardel almost wet his trousers that his plan might actually work! Surely the Gods themselves must have intervened for one of his plans to work how he had pictured it. The Tarpan strangely enough looked upward and saw the hunter holding a big rock directly over the plate of berries in the tree. The Tarpan gave Ardel a blank look and blinked its brown eyes quickly and then turned its head toward the plate of Husha berries. The hunter cursed his bad luck and camouflage skills, for even a Tarpan could see him! Just as he was about to give up, the Tarpan casually walked to the plate and began to eat the berries. This time the thief smiled widely, aimed, and dropped the very large rock on the Tarpan's head. With a resounding crack the rock dropped forcefully dead center on the Tarpan's head and the Tarpan fell from its legs. The proud hunter gleefully climbed down the tree to see his prize up close; he had never seen a live (well almost live) Tarpan up close before. The Tarpan twitched and rose to its feet as if nauseous. Ardel, just out of the tree, saw the Tarpan whisk its obese body into the shrubs at full speed. The young thief quickly picked up his large rock and his meager belongings and ran after his prize. The smitten Tarpan ran like a drunk being chased by the town guard. It nearly tumbled to the ground more than once but managed to keep ahead of the hungry thief. Long and far did the Tarpan run; through nettle bushes, over ridges, into the vast wetlands; all the while with Ardel running after it, yelling curses, waving a rock over his head menacingly. The wounded Tarpan clumsily ran close to the edge of a muddy pond, slipped and fell into a grayish-green muck, covering itself in thick mud. Ardel, nearly exhausted from running after the Tarpan, ran in its exact footsteps and slipped in exactly the same spot; right off the bank into the mud pond beside the Tarpan. He fell in hitting his back first and quickly sinking covering his legs and chest. The thief's rock sank quickly into the mud and he quickly scrambled to steady himself in the oozing mud. For a silent moment thief and Tarpan stood chest deep in thick grayish mud glaring at each other as if placing blame.

The ancient myth of Slay Master Jerlog Death-hand tells of his company of raiders warming themselves from the frigid winter by a huge bonfire. The myth states that a lone Tarpan comes from the darkness from the woods and stares dumbly into the fire right in the midst of the troops. The troops laugh and befriend the Tarpan for its common sense to warm itself on such a cold night. Startled by the troops' laughter, the frightened Tarpan dives right into the raging fire and dies a grizzly and not so quick death. Thus, Slay Master Jerlog Death-hand wisely says it a good omen, a free meal. So it was said so long ago; an unexpected Tarpan is a good omen.

Good omen or not, this pedicular Tarpan seemed quite intent on exterminating itself as well as its hunter. Both slowly sank and movement only quickened the matter. Knee deep in thick mud, the Tarpan gave an ear grinding wail and futilely tried to move its weak legs. Its back end sunk deeper into the mud, fully up to its hips. The Tarpan's characteristic mottled brown hide was now covered in grayish mud and dark red blood from a large wound on its head. The large wound filled quickly with blood, slowly making the mud around it a deep purple spreading down its neck. The Tarpan's long tongue licked the wound on its head carefully as the creature temporarily forgot it was stuck in a mud pond, more concerned with its head wound.

Ardel's two hands gripped the Tarpan's tail, one over the next, and forcefully pulled. The Tarpan preceded to turn its head and lick the foreign hands affectionately. The thief was irritated by the creature's affection and quickly, at least quickly to the Tarpan, snatched it's tongue in one hand and held its tail in the other, gripping them menacingly. The disgruntled Tarpan moaned as best as it could with a hand grabbing its tongue. It used its considerable weight and pulled back, but that only seemed to make the hands grip tighter. Its large fluid eyes gazed backwards to its oppressor with an anxious face, to see a fairly large Human stuck chest deep covered in thick grey mud. His long black hair was now solid grey with mud and his broad stature dimly mocked by the obese Tarpan.

Another silent moment passed. The thief's hands tightly gripped the Tarpan's timid tail and its long moist tongue. The Tarpan's tongue felt akin to slimy sand paper but made a surprisingly good hand grip. Tarpan tongue climbing gloves ? Thought the thief to himself curiously. Both Tarpan and Man stood quietly for a moment chest deep in the mud, tiring of the stalemate. Wind rustled through huge primeval trees thousands of years old. A yellow berry fisher sang a tranquil song far in the distance. The Tarpan slid another inch in the mud and the man kept his grip upon its tongue and tail. The Tarpan stood uncomfortably, turned in an arch facing its tormentor, gasping its long hot breath as its tongue started to foam white bubbles. A frantic emotional wave overtook the Tarpan and it began to jerk, it eyes widened and it let out another sound, this time more angry. Ardel gave no heed to it and gripped harder, not knowing what to do. Thick froth covered his hand making his grip on the tongue begin to get weary at best. In a sudden swift movement the Tarpan let a resounding, "Krounk!". Mud flew everywhere in a mad flurry of movement. Writhing in a frenzy of thrashing limbs, the Tarpans jaw leapt forward and bit deeply into the man's hand with a satisfying tear of flesh.

"Aaaargh!"...

In all the weeks before his departure, Lord Foyer never once thought the desert could get this hot and miserable. The dry rancid air sucked the water from his very being. Three of his beloved Killopese insect mounts simply dropped dead from the sheer heat exposure. Surely he would suffer the same consequences if his spells of protection faded and he could not find a place to recuperate. He had read in the library that the deserts this far to the west were death traps. Nothing could survive here, no man, no beast, nor even the great Kings showed any claim here. Lord Foyer had ridden weeks with a small fortune of water and supplies and now finally, finally may be within reach of the old ruins he sought for so long. Years ago a young Lord Foyer was a gifted student of magic under the services of the Baron of Aromling. Along with his magical powers Foyer had unequaled skill using his intellect thus making him a very powerful, and respected man. He was a renowned engineer and physician. He eventually became one of the Baron's three practicing Magicians; a humble position in Aromling, but he held it with considerable mystique. He had studied years in libraries throughout lands for his pure love of knowledge and learning of things past. History, he learned, is a powerful thing. He learned of a time before the great Kings, and the times of before even the new Gods themselves. This became his love. The young apprentice Foyer became old Lord Foyer during the decades of his studies. In an odd series of events, the Baron of Aromling was exiled and all under his service were unceremoniously executed because of the Barons alleged crimes to the people. Lord Foyer had barely escaped with his life, but he had lost many friends that day. The entire Kingdom of Jeorlophore had demanded the Baron of Aromling and his renegade subjects be brought to justice. Luckily old Foyer picked a good time to travel as only a complete imbecile would follow him into the great desert. "Nothing!", Lord Foyer moaned in frustration and spread his arms wide. "...Nothing...". He simply gazed at the huge wasteland he seemed to have doomed himself in. Only cracked bleeding lips were to show for his effort. Foyer stroked his thick white hair and covered his head with his brown robe. The Bulbous eyes of his Killopese twitched suddenly as if aware of his master's frustration. Lord Foyer patted the Killopeses carapace head and urged him onward. He noted the color of the Killopeses shell was distinctly dark brown, not the normal green, surely a sign that death is near. He sat pondering the awkward rhythm of the Killopese's six legged trot. He wondered how Killopese meat must taste... He has read only the most desperate eat their own Killopeses, but nothing how they taste. Do you eat the meat in the sticky underside? He wondered.

Shaking such ludicrous thoughts, old Lord Foyer gave a slight grin and patted his Killopese's head again. He looked upward expecting to see only the hazy sky but he also spotted a Labidine, a small grayish bird that by no means could survive this far in the desert. New life filled Lord Foyer and he urged his Killopese into a full trot to the south-west toward the direction the Labadine was flying. Lord Foyer could feel the Killopese sense anticipation that something was near, water perhaps! Foyer's green eyes scanned the horizon for anything. "There!", Lord Foyer shouted pointing slightly to the south. He sighted some old clay buildings far in the distance, about two hours' journey. Even from here he could tell it was ancient. Look at the size of it!

The great cities of the east themselves would be hard pressed to manage the size of these antediluvian structures. Lord Foyer urged his Killopese on harder and it obliged wholeheartedly. Foyer could feel the structures magically and he closed his eyes. He called to them and they gave up willingly to his mind eye. His vision faded and his ear pulsed with his own heart beat. The vision of the buildings filled his mind. Though they were but a blur, he was overjoyed nonetheless. Foyer's vision cleared and he watched his Killopese cautiously sip water from a small hole, even noticing several green vines in a slow struggle to reach the water. How strange that his scrying did not find these plants as well? He must be weaker than he thought, for they were quite abundant here. Lord Foyer lifted his head and saw the ruins of buildings that had been only in his dreams. The architecture alone would take a lifetime to study! The stone that was the predominate building material was cool to the touch in the heat of mid day. The roads are so wide, what once traveled here? All at once a lifetime of questions were answered and a thousand lifetimes of questions emerged. Old Lord Foyer sat in sheer awe of his surroundings. Though mostly toppled, they were the most magnificent things he had ever seen. He quickly gathered his backpack from his Killopese along with a wooden staff and started walk to the ruins so he could explore like he had in his childhood. Slowly the buildings got larger and larger as Lord Foyer came closer. Unfortunately, anything deteriorable had long since been destroyed though many enticing things still existed. Spiral conjectures protruding from the floor contained many odd symbols, ancient statues of halfling heroes-- buildings that seemed to have no marks of masonry at all as if they were wrought from a huge block of stone somehow. The more Foyer explored, the more he was amazed with the surroundings. He completely forgot to tie up his Killopese! He'll find him later... One thing puzzled Lord Foyer. No metal was anywhere, and worse, footprints of recent age where occasionally found also. Human footprints. "Scavengers perhaps...", Foyer mumbled to himself as if comforting himself that they were long gone. He should have never doubted he was not the first to journey here in ten thousand years. Lord Foyer scanned the horizon for movement....nothing. He went on his way cautiously, rounding corners, climbing stairs. He came to many ancient groves holding stone husks that used to be trees, some he even recognized as the species of trees that Baron of Aromling cared for in his grove. He wondered where the Baron had gone. He didn't miss the gruff man by any means but the Baron did pay well. A true paradise this place must have been. The thought of something that could destroy all this blatantly ...Someone like the stupid Baron. Lord Foyer thought how long this civilization stood and how easily it had been to destroy them. He kept walking in a futile attempt to free his mind. The Further Lord Foyer traveled, the more he realized why he was here. He has seen many things in his sixty years of life. Nothing though to convince Lord Foyer that the great Kings, or the Dragons themselves, were the creators of it all.

They are nothing more than parasites! Parasites of the world, parasites of the races. They feed off us, bleeding us dry but keeping us alive. Surely there must be a reason for creation besides entertaining the great Kings. "I'd sooner devour my Killopese whole than accept that fate!", Lord Foyer said boldly. Something bigger created this mighty place . Much of his life Lord Foyer has sought these places. Only now with the resent death of his friends has he been inspired to act. He has read ancient text forgotten in the pits of Libraries. He has found evidence of the Immortals of the old civilization. Not rulers, Sorcerers, or Dragons, but creators! Giants in both size and in the mind. Now they lie forgotten and buried. Do they live still? Can they be found? All routes lead here. Lord Foyer looked skyward to the burning sun. He is momentarily blinded but the pain is good, it felt good, alive. He lowers his head and continues his journey. The sun illuminates everything at this time of day. Shadows are rare, nothing hides. Lord Foyer likes that. No sooner than he rounds a corner of a building than he finds something of interest great interest. In a small court yard surrounded by buildings stands a dark grey obelisk. Only the height of a two men and the width of old Lord Foyer himself, it stands eloquently against the monstrosity of the ruins. Ancient runes pack every crevice on the old obelisk, it is cracked, weathered, beaten, and eroded. Yet it still stands defying all, welcoming punishment. Lord Foyer walks closer and without hesitation firmly places his hand against the obelisk. Like the other stone in this place it is cool to the touch in the heat of midday. Lord Foyer circles it in wonder looking to the top than scanning downward. Stories are told here, Lord Foyer contemplated. He sat on the ground crossing his legs staring upward at the obelisk. He rummaged beneath his robes and placed his Maulkin skin to his dry lips and drank the heavenly water. Then he read. The sun makes its slow decent to the horizon, darkness comes soon Lord Foyer thought. He has read much in the passing time. Quest for magic, proclamations of love, stories of ancient heroes and ancient people long forgotten. A small part of the obelisk seemed to be restricted in use, only for those tales which honor a man called Daarnizian. "Whose Daarnizian?", Lord Foyer mumbled to himself.

He read more and his eyes widened. It spoke of Dragons ravaging the people. It spoke of the death of the world in a hideous blast of fire. It spoke of things he never heard of, the final obliteration of the sacred race of Pixies, the turning of the seas, and finally the city itself had come to a abrupt end. Few stories continued after that point, only cryptic warnings. The civilization had died. A grim look appeared on old Foyer's face. He read a few of the last entries, generally warnings to anyone that had come here to leave immediately. Then a blurb about the condemnation of Daarnizian, placed on the top of the obelisk. In a single swift movement Lord Foyer rose to his feet looking upward. He said a single word, "Lomiliwa", and make somatic symbols in his hand resembling a pentacle, Lord Foyer's feet left the ground and he rose to the top of the obelisk. With his spell of levitation Lord Foyer easily rose double his own height just a easily as he rose to his own feet. He touched the top of the obelisk finding the tip of the thing itself is a separate obelisk made of obsidian. Has Obsidian always been valued? Lord Foyer wondered. This piece is different though...He carefully cleaned the sand and dust from the surface finding a deep black stone as heavy as iron. He could hold it in the palm of his hand, its four sides shaped as a pyramid. It was dark but shone like the night, yet it seemed to have shifting smoke inside of it. Foyer smiled, beyond his curious insight he sensed nothing special about this piece of rock, magically or psionicly, and Lord Foyer is quite adapt at these kind of things. He did however did find its flawless appearance pleasant and placed it in a pocket in his robes. The darkness of night was well on its way now, time to find his Killopese and get some rest for the mornings venture into some of the more interesting structures. Lord Foyer contacted his Killopese with his mind. Not a spell he used often but, he and his Killopese had spent much time together and it was quiet adept of letting Lord Foyer enter its mind freely. His telepathy exactly located the Killopese but something was wrong... He peered further into the Killopeses mind. Foyer fell to his knees with a resounding thump, feeling pain, a lot of pain. It was not his own pain but the Killopeses pain. In a sudden realization his mind shouted in terror. I'm...My Killopese is being eaten alive!

His mind stayed with the Killopese, it was barely alive and in great suffering. Old Lord Foyer tried to communicate with his Killopese with his mind. Look towards your adversaries Killopese! Show me! Not far away, almost within hearing distance, the Killopeses crumbled body lay in a wet heap. It tilted it head at the creature that was feasting on his own body. Lord Foyer saw not a hungry animal dining on his mount, or even bloodthirsty drake, he saw men devouring his Killopese with their bare teeth. Yellow and red liquid covered their face as they tore shredded chitin and flesh with twisted jaws. Dread overcame Lord Foyer, he had not expected this atrocity! He felt the final glimmer of life of his Killopese fade way. I..should have.. tied you up...

Lord Foyer stayed with his Killopese until the end. Until the last agonies of pain faded into comfort and darkness. Lord Foyer held his Killopese in his mind until he felt nothing, nothing at all. Foyer leapt to his feet, "I will shatter your bodies wretched fools!", he yelled. Foyer uttered a complex phrase followed by a single syllable, Luxian Tiltowait di'juuzipwids, and then and audible "Ai". Lord Foyer had a fresh picture of his victim in his mind and he knew the beings exact location from the mind of his dying Killopese. With Lord Foyers spell enacted, suddenly the figure ignited in magical fires and it screamed in torment, flesh fell from the body in a burning ooze and it fell to the ground in a smoldering husk. The vision of the strange humanoids began to fade from his mind and he stood for a moment regaining his strength from the draining spell. Old Lord Foyer could see the smoke from here and smiled wide. He knew such fires would burn anything, even metal. Nothing would be left, but it does take a while... Lord Foyer collected his rationality and began to walk toward the sight of his Killopese and the burning husk. It was then he realized he himself was surrounded by things..men that are no longer men. They had grayish mottled skin and were wearing no cloths, they had matted body hair. He spotted movement in the shadows close to him and figures lurching towards him. Out of sheer panic he mentally defended himself. Lord Foyer tore into all of the minds around him and ripped at them with his mind, conjuring nightmares of the mind to frighten them away. Lord Foyer strained to peer into the creatures minds and create illusions. Aarg!

It was no use, the minds of these men have long been insane. Foyer could not even enter their minds as there was to much conflict and confusion, Illusions and tricks would not work. So much for a quick decisive victory... Foyer opened his magical reserve and released it uninhibited. Plants around old Lord Foyer wither and fade into black ash as he called on their life energies. His hands glow a slight Green, a sickening green. He turn around and spots the deranged humans racing towards him with astounding speed. Foyer desperately shouts a word from his memory, "Cranecro!" With Foyers spell incarnated, thick Rainbow Hues are unleashed by his hands creating a globe around him like a multicolored sun. The globe shines translucent with life of its own and then it begins harden like steel glowing reds, blues, and violets. Foyer hears several thumps out side the globe. Probably ineffectual attacks his foes wished to land on him. Lord Foyer then closes his eyes ignoring the noises of the insane outside his globe, he utters a Syllable, "Oaiy". The sphere of protection around him renders most physical attacks useless, however he cannot attack outwards either. The persistent thumping hastens and he decided quickly it would be best to leave this place before other scavengers arrived. Lord Foyer decided on one more spell to take him away from this place, he placed small serpent scale from a pocket in his robe and placed it on his tongue. He said a long phrase as he spread his arms out wide. Mo deviatio Avian reptis halito. Old Lord Foyer's very body changed its shape. Bones popped out of socket and reformed onto new bones, his skin turned into scales and grew more dense, his eyes could now see easily into the night, his arms allowed him to fly in the air. The prismatic sphere began to dissipate and foyer quickly lifted himself into air before the manthings could retaliate. Lord Foyer had turned his flesh into that of a Airborne reptile known as a Air Drake. A majestic creatures that travel the waves of the air as men walk the earth. Foyer always enjoyed this form, often spending hours at a time just flying about for no real reason other than to fly. Lord Foyer leapt up in the air and beat his wings. The ground swirled in miniature whirlwinds of dust and blood beneath Lord Foyer's long wings, the angry humanoids shouted guttural growls and tossed rocks at him to no avail. Lord Foyer quickly flew well out of sight of the hideous things. The thin membranes in his wings shimmered a cool blue giving outline of his form and he swiftly flew over the ruins, almost a shadow. Lord Foyer prayed a female Air Drake was no where near in these territories. They are quite affectionate as Lord Foyer has learned from past personal experience. The flight lets Foyer escape the terror he left below in more ways than one. His mind has begun to wander lately, especially with his long journey through the miserable sun. He feared he going mad at times. Now though? Am I mad? No not now... I'm at peace up here. Is this what the Dragons had felt when they traveled? Foyer pondered if the people who build this place were truly dead, slain by dragons or some other evil race. The stars show their piercing light through the night sky illuminating the ancient ruins in a eerie cool light that has lasted a long eternity. Lord Foyer enjoys the sight for a long time and hesitantly drifts his way to a rock outcropping a few hours journey from the vestiges of the city. He loops down making several circles and then landing near the largest of the boulders, a rock easily dwarfing most adobes. Foyer lands on all four legs and his body begins to shift again too his human form. Bones refold on them selves, skin smoothes and wrinkles and he is in his natural state once more. Lord Foyer stretches his arms making sure he is normal again. He gives a final stretch pulling his elbow back as he hears a low growling sound slightly to his left just a few feet away. Dread filled his heart and he feared to turn his head to see what manner of a beast could make such a growl. By my Killopeses soul, when will it end! Lord Foyer turns slightly to his left and he sees a eight legged creature with a grimacing snarl. How did I miss spotting this!

The creature resembles a thick mop with eight legs, it has long golden fur, its body extremely low to the ground, and carries about six feet in length. The first thing that came to his mind was wondering how a wolverine could get this huge and grow eight legs. It reminded him of a cat he had in his childhood for some reason. Perhaps the creatures alien eyes staring into his. By no means is Lord Foyer a druid, but even he can tell this thing very stout, very mean, and very territorial. The creature slowly stands on its back four legs lifting it s body high showing four legs armed with five inch long claws and a maw of teeth that look as if they could shear metal. Its cat-like legs were massively thick and its long snout brought to mind a snout of a ferret, only much larger. Foyer was too close for comfort, he could smell the things moist rancid breath. The creature made a sickening growl and hissed loudly. Staring in old Lord Foyer's eyes with its own inhuman cat like eyes. Foyer stood absolutely still and entered the creatures mind with his own. He found little resistance as the creature has no intellect, just a sheer voracious appetite. The panic had left Lord Foyer and he began to relax. Foyer had complete control over the creature. It simply became demure and looked at Old Lord Foyer with open eyes. Foyer quickly aspired that this would indeed be his new mount! Foyer slowly lifted his leg and began to sit upon the creature. He retained contacted with the creature so strengthened his mental grip upon the it. Foyer entered the creatures mind deeper easily overwhelmed its natural defenses, then something happened. A mental voice contacted Lord Foyer. A mental form of a man appeared within Foyer's mind as he was contacting this creature. And it spoke to him. "Lord Foyer of Aromling, this is Inquisitor Rondel of The Order of Republic, you have been evading me for months. I demand that you contact me immediately of suffer the con-" , the voice spoke. The voice that is speaking to him is not the creature, it is someone beyond. Foyer Struggles to keep his hold on the creature while this person contacts him disrupting his mental link with the creature. Lord Foyer responds in a desperate rage, who in the kings name would follow him here! "Are you trying to get me killed you fool! Break your contact now or I'll rip out your heart with my bare hands!", he demanded out of desperation. "Insult me will you! I'll hunt you where ever you go defiler! You scum, you evil follower of Lord Foyer of Aromling, when I catch you I wi-", the voice replied. All mental links simultaneously broke contact. Lord Foyer simply could not handle two minds inside of his at once so unexpectedly. He knows not of the man who contacted him and he does not care in the least. The creature that he is sitting atop is now free and is surely unhappy. Lord Foyer recalls the fastest spell he can to his mind but the creature responded faster. It rolls over with blinding speed and crushes Foyer under its weight. Foyer hears three of his ribs snap and tear his flesh. This thing is mad with bloodlust!

Lord Foyer tries to move but the creature pins his arms and legs and rakes his exposed belly with its four remaining legs. Foyer feels the agony of his bowels being shredded and pulled out, more pain than he can bear. He screams endlessly. The creature stops its raking and precedes to maul Foyer's chest severing muscles tissue showing his white ribs. Foyer fights with his hands but he knows its useless. He utters a word at the top of his screaming voice, "Vieft!". The Creature explodes in a fury of a deafening thunder clap. Lightning shoots across the horizon angrily. Light flashes across the desert and thunder ever presently follows. The bloody carcass of the creature lands atop old Lord Foyer. Foyer chokes on his on blood, the pain has subsided, all he feels is warm and wet. The creatures weight prevents any movement, even if he could. He knows he will die this day. I can not die! Not like this! I have too much to do!

Sharp thrashing pains fill his mind once more. He cannot think, he can only feel. The night passes, darkness overcomes old Lord Foyer. He dies moments later with a horrid expression on his motionless face and a Obsidian Pyramid in the folds of his robe.