The test of faith....

[Alaric McCree]

(this is set just prior to the invasion of Umbra)

::as he prepares for what is to come he once more finds himself thinking of those who swore to follow him, and how some of them have wavered in their faith. It is with this in mind that he devises a way to test the one whose faith should be stronger than all of the others who follow him.::


::he has much preparation to do. This magic will be strong and must be carefully controlled. He begins to prepare. The effects must be timed perfectly for it to work. The success of a life lived by one born into privilege. The power of being a ruler. The feeling of contentment gained by having people who lovingly follow your commands and laws out of respect and admiration. The immortality of royalty. These are the things to truly test the metal of the man's faith.::

::his lips crease as he contemplates the visions his magic will create::     

::his voice is barely heard as he mumbles to no one in particular:: As if those things can ensure obedience and faithful servitude...

::he spits and then clears his mind as he reaches out::

::his mind instantly in touch with the one he wants::   

Najaal. Come to me. There is much to discuss.....

::silently he waits::

[Fangedwolf]

The battle outside of Zento had been short and bloody.  He himself had fallen, only to rise again under the command of his Master, given back his life to continue the cause. 

Things had been going well for them, so very well.  The followers of the light, these supposed 'good' people took such delight in slaughter that there could be no question as to their lack of goodness.  And yet, despite their righteousness, they had fallen, one by one, to the dark force of Lord Abraxius' will.

With the heart back where it should be; in his Master's possession, he had been given time to relax, his duty and endeavors given prize of this time of his own.  It did not last for long however, for soon enough the malevolent whisper of his Lord's voice emanated through his thoughts.

There would have been a time such a thing would have sent the fear through him, made him cower, struggle against the hold that was upon his mind.  That time seemed so long ago, and he merely looked upon it as a useful tool for getting word from Lord Abraxius quicker.

So, there was much to discuss, that seemed at least promising, for he could feel the anticipation within his Master, feel the dark delight in something he was devising, though the exact details of which were hidden from him.  Perhaps he had come across some new way to thwart the Sosarian Empire, to crush it until nothing was left, or enslave the minds of those that opposed him.  Perhaps some new spell or creation had been made, and it was with a thrill of his own anticipation that he considered this.

So it was that he would gather his wits and cast himself through the ether until he stood before his Lord, long strands of grey hair teasing in the slight shift of air around him at his appearance, the robes of his office seeming almost ethereal in their countenance.

"You wished to speak with me, my Lord?"

[Alaric McCree]

::he turns upon sensing Najaal's arrival and as his body materializes he smiles::

It's good to see your quick response. I have much to tell and show you...

::with a simple wave of his hand a chair appears out of the shadows:::

Sit down Najaal, so that we may begin......

[Fangedwolf]

He watched that smile materialise on his Master's lips, and a sense of unease fills him.  Rarely did he smile without good reason, without some very good reason, many of which were fiendish and not at all good for all those involved.  And it was he to whom his Master looked with that smile.

The chair slid out of the darkness, and he could feel that push of power that brought it to him, and, having no other choice really, he seats himself. 

"I have not done somthing to displease you, have I, my Lord?" he asks as he looks to the one who had claimed his servitude so long ago now it seems.

[Alaric McCree]

::as Najaal sits and questions the possibility of displeasing his master, Abraxius begins speaking once more::

There comes a time in everyone's life when they must make a choice. Sometimes the choices are simple and easily detectable, other times they are not.  ::the merest wave of his hand and the spells activate::    The time of choice is as important as the choice itself.......  :::to Najaal's mind the room begins to fade... the voice of Abraxius dims...     As his vision begins to clear and he finds himself standing amongst a prestine forest wit the sounds of nature all about him.........    A castle seen in the distance.....   the realization that it is his castle.....     a soft murmur of a voice........"The time to choose draws near"     

::he stands watching as the images and thoughts flood into Najaal's mind:::

[Fangedwolf]

He listened to his Master start speaking of choices, and he couldnt help but think that this was very much like the talk that he had given Shadow.  But surely that couldnt be right, he hadnt done anything he was aware of to go against his Master's wishes.  The unease stayed however.

And then he felt the spells trigger with that slight gesture of his Master's hand.  Why hadn't he felt them before?  He had.  He had felt the spells that were so inherant around his Master's form that there was little point in differentiating between them, for he could have tasted whether there were any foreign ones around and there had not been.  There were always so many spells Lord Abraxius had around him, so many different types, all of which were at his command, all of which anyone was subject to if his Lord wished it.  And it seemed that today, he was just the person.

Only because of his own strength did he not instantly fall under to those spells.  Only because of that connection between them already could he still hear those murmured words whisper through the land that had taken over his consciousness.

'A time to choose draws near', those words.. he knew the speaker, didnt he?  Surely he must, for the voice was so familiar, but even that was fading, being blocked out until nothing but the situation at hand filled his mind and thoughts.

The forest surrounded him with the majestic view of the mountain and castle that sat atop it.  He smiled as he looked upon the structure in the distance.  It was in a good defendable position his castle.  His family had been wise to put it there.  Glancing over, he took the reigns of his warhorse from where they were tied to a tree, eager to be back in the castle that stood there as if waiting for him. 

Soon trees and shrubs were flying past him as he raced through the forest, his forest, for it was part of the surrounding land that lay in the shadow of the castle's power.  He could hear other people in the forest, laughter and merriment, and that was one of his comrades was it not?  They often had gone hunting together, but he rode on, for the castle's pull was upon him, and he yearned for that place he called 'home'.

Soon enough the expanse of the castle came into view and he once more marvelled at its construction, both pleasing to the eye, as well as tactically brilliant in its construction.  Who could ask for a better castle than this?  A smile touched his lips as he rode on in through the gates, the guards there bowing to him as he past.  He thought nothing of it for it was normal for them to do that here.  He owned the place after all.

Dismounting from the horse, he handed the reigns to an eager stable boy, though he watched him for a moment as he put the horse away.  The lad was little more than a boy, just coming to that age of his life where he would be thinking less about horses, and more about matters of, most likely, the appreciation of feminine attributes. 

Enough of such things, the boy would do as he pleased, though if he decided to break contract, then to be sure it would not be benevolence chasing him through that forest.  His library, yes, he would go there, perhaps immerse himself in a book or something.  So it was that his steps took him through the pale stone passageways where those he passed would bow or cirtsy.  He found it a bit odd, but that was what they should be doing? 

[Alaric McCree]

::as the man rode past the people, the men bowed and the women curtsied. Then with smiles they waved to him as he rode off. He was after all their king, and a generous one he had been. The people of his kingdom were happy and it showed to all who saw them. The love for their king was evident in their faces, their words, and the very work they did.::

::once in the castle it was the same, servants and guests alike all showed their respect as he passed. Phrases such as "My Lord" and "My Liege" could be heard from those around as he makes his way out to the balcony. As far as he can see is his kingdom, one passed down from his father's father's father. This land has been ruled over by his family for generations and will  continue to do so for generations to come.::

::his mind fills with thoughts of recent times, the various offers of alliances from neighboring kingdoms, the love and adoration of his people. The woman who is to be his queen. He is a man of power, fuelled by the devotion of his subjects, the love of his family and future queen, as well as the alliances offered in good stead by men of like power across the land::

::these are the things that fill a man with pride.::