The Change...

[Alaric McCree]

::having been very busy with seeking what was lost and now what he has sensed he realizes he has not kept his mind tuned to his chosen mortal leader for some time. instantly his mind reaches out, touching the mind of Shadow,and just as he is about to send him a message to come to the keep he realizes something. Something unexpected, at least at this point in time::

Hmmm, he has changed some.

::slowly his dry cracked lips crease into a sly grin::   

It matters not, I will just have to move my plans ahead of schedule.

::once more he reaches out with his mind:::

Shadow! Come to my keep and find me. Make haste!

::his evil laughter rings out from the keep and as he walks onto the teleporter the last words heard by the creatures beyond the walls are the ones he is so fond off::

In the end, they will all still serve me.....

::as his body vanishes to the lower level his laughter dies out:::

[Fangedwolf]

It had been quiet times while his Lord was otherwise busy with things in his workroom devising yet another creature.  Quiet times where he had been free to cultivate the strength of the Cult, aid those that needed it to become stronger, and strengthen the willpower of those that needed that to. 

Things had been going well he had thought, in this lull, until his sharp mind caught the change in his Master's thinking.  He had, ever since he had come under Lord Abraxius' rule, had a close mind connection to him, and so it was that now, as his power had grown over time, he could sense the changes in his Master's moods if he was alone or in meditation, or if the thoughts were particularly strong. 

This was as it was now, as he sat there, having been pouring over maps of the land, his mind had awakened towards his Master, whose own thoughts had turned shocked or even troubled.  This did not bode well, and his own thoughts then moved to those connected through the Cult.  'Be strong, be vidulent, something has changed.  Find out what.'

What more could he do but take to the roads himself and try to find what they were all searching for, information, a fleeting thing with so little clue as to even what it was.

Time had passed and he had been spending some time with ShadowStone, something he had taken to doing more often of late.  He liked the man, one of the few he trusted implicitly and considered a friend, something of a miricle.  It was during this time that the call had come, a call just like any other from their Master, summoning them to his Keep.

So he went with Shadow, Mal'ynrae and Blazer following after and they stood listening intently to what their Lord wished of them, the empty chamber around them filled with the labratory bottles and torture equipment Abraxius so loved.  It was much as it had been when both he and Shadow had recieved their titles, Lord Abraxius' praise to Shadows long standing work and loyalty.  He was pleased for him, that his loyalty and work was being acknowleged in this way, and then came the damning words; "I require something different of you now.  I require your death"

Shock rolled through him.  Of all the people, not Shadow.. surely not.  His face had slipped into a more emotionless blank as he looked to his friend, one who questioned if that was what Abraxius really wanted.  This.. couldnt be happening.  But it was.

He watched as Lord Abraxius strode forth towards Shadow and with a gesture both swift and brutal, his hand came away with ShadowStone's heart, his friends body falling to the ground at his feet, dead and lifeless.  His gaze went to his Master, the bloody heart dripping from that dried clawlike hand, his own eyes, in his shock, showing to be their true colour of shades of  red. 

And then Abraxius began to speak in a language all but forgotten, bidding ShadowStones spirit to inhabit a new vessel of flesh, one that seemed almost to hold the power and rage that he had seen show in his friend in battle.  He let his mind reach out, even as the words of Lord Abraxius filled the room, seeking for some sign that there was something of his friend still left in the goliath of a figure, that beneath the balronic image his friend still survived.  "Remember that in life and beyond, you all serve me, forever"  There was nothing.. nothing there that seemed to remain of his friend, the jovial womaniser, the optimistic friend, the determined commander.. it was all just the rage that greeted him "Begone, I have things to do".

The rage still battered at his psyche as he tried to pull back before he got sucked in to, only his Master's command making him move.  Red eyes looked back once more, one last time at the one he had stood side by side with, had believed in, would have given his all to help, and the one person he couldnt help when it mattered.  Move.. move damn you.

His steps took him swiftly from the place, before the others saw any hint of weakness in him.  They could not see it.  He was the High Priest, and now stood alone to help guide those in the coming battle, he could show nothing to them, nothing of the turmoil that coursed through his veins.  Who else was there to turn to now?  There was no one. 

As he moved to the teleporter, he felt a weight lay upon him, both physical and mental.  Reaching his home, his own workroom he sat down in his chair and looked down into his pack. There sat the armour his friend had worn, each piece lovingly cared for, and beneath that the robe of the Commander of the Undead Army.  His jaw clenched slightly, bright red eyes seemed to shimmer for a moment as he closed the pack, only lifting out the robe to store it away in a safe place for when a new Commander could be found.

But who could be found.. who could take over that task, that responsability?  His mind could think of no one that could fill his place.  Alone, his roar of rage and loss went unheard, but even this, a show of emotion he rarely ever allowed himself, was not enough, not nearly enough to quench the loss of the one person he had called friend.

[Sithra]

The sun was setting, making the hide of the grazing red ostard blaze like fire.  It also reflected off the white hair of the drow who sat on the steps of her home, idly watching the ostard and not really noticing it as she was deep in thought.  Fingers slowly running across the head of the warhammer at her side, she was barely aware of her surroundings.  The commander of the Cult's forces was gone.  Worried murmurs had already begun as to who would be able to fill the void, something she doubted would be resolved soon.  A shudder ran through her as she thought back to yesterday, at the violent and sudden death suffered by Shadowstone.  And at the words uttered by the lich afterwards. 

Were they all to suffer such fates at their own deaths?  Briefly she paused in the toying of her weapon, debating this.  And if they were, should she take steps to save herself from such?  The ostard looked up, squawking to indicate it was full.  She looked over at it, slowly coming to a decision.  There were no such steps to take.  An attempt to flee would result in terrible punishment, much worse than the fate  which had been dealt to a loyal follower.  No, she would stay, and serve.  Resigned but committed to her decision, she gestured the ostard over and mounted, then rode into the deepening twilight shadows.

[Miri]

I sat in my kitchen in the deepening twighlight and mused over what I had seen and heard.
The smell of baking bread permeated my house, melding nicely with the roasting hog, making me feel almost like I was back on my own world just waiting for my husband to come through the door, a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his silver eyes... but I knew that was not to be.
Even thoughts of my beloved husband could not dispel the memories of the previous night, however.

I had stood there, watching passivly, as that lich had ripped out the heart of his loyal follower and the sight had not affected me in the least.  I had seen worse before, in other places and other times.

What bothered me was the way in which I did not care.
Back then I had been a totally different person, using an alter ego I had created to sheild myself from the less savoury aspects of my work.  I had long since put that personality aside and adopted my own once more, for I had not needed the coldness, the arrogance or the lack of emotion that had been the Hags Handmaiden since I had retired from my life as an assassin.

Now, though, because of my choices, I had begun to assimilate that personality into my own, welcoming her as a part of myself instead of keeping her seperate.  I needed the hardness of her, the inability to feel, be distracted or bothered by the plight of others.  However, I had also wanted to maintain myself, the maiden I knew myself to be, the maiden who had come through so much in her life.

The untimly demise of ShadowStone had not caused me to even flutter an eyelid.  That was worrying.

Another worrying thing was the way in which Abraxius had discovered me.

It had crossed my thoughts that he may sense my presence and such had not bothered me.  But he had managed to dispel the protective layer of shadows I had wrapped about myself!
Never in my life had such a thing happened to me.
Not even the Shadow Daemons, to whom Shadow Walking was as simple and natural as breathing, had ever managed to penetrate my shadows once I had wrapped myself within them.
That either meant the creature was more powerful than I had suspected, or else disuse had weakened my gift.

I turned my thoughts to ShadowStone once more, not wishing to dwell on the other parts for the moment.

He had been a loyal follower, the best the lich had to put forth in the way of arms, yet he had been coldly murdered and turned into little more than an overgrown guard dog.
There were two possible explanations I could think of for that, both of which made me smile.

A report would have to be made and given to those I wished to know.  Perhaps I might even throw in my suspicions and conclusions.. I had not yet decided upon that.
Would informing the others bring me any closer to my goal?
I would have to consider that question carefully.

[Blazer]

Blazer stood overlooking the ocean from his island fortress, his mind drifting back to the fateful night where his commander had been brutally murdered by their lord, Abraxius. He had sensed the shock and horror comming off of Najaal's aura in waves. The complete emotionless interest that their unwanted guest had given off. And the feeling of loss of a great commander from his other teammates. However none of this was any of his concern, no the one thing that had caught his attention was the aura of the reincarnated Shadowstone. The aura had been so filled with demonic power that it had nearly sent Blazer to the ground from the dizzying feeling it left in him. Never before had he witnessed such uncontrolled rage and pure unchecked and unrestrained power! This was why he served Abraxius this was his goal in life... this was what he constantly strove for and yet never could achieve... true limitless power...  power to rival those of the gods! ' I will make this power mine '  thought Blazer, ' I will recommit meself to this war now that it has been proven to me that there is something to gain in doing so ' .  Blazer started going thru his armor, putting on his best pieces, and going through which ones still needed to be improved.  ' i will do my best to increase my power to that of shadowstone's and then i shall become the new commander and eventually gain that in which i truely desire '. And with that Blazer left to collect the materials he would need to finish his armor set and gain enough power to complete his goal.