Avalon Evolved

Nomally the human brain is only capable of using 15% percent of its metal capability but threw the Asure man has evolved and broken the shackles that binded the true potential left unto them by God, some of them becoming neigh unto him themselves...

Id-The other part of the Ego, a Psylock's mana threshold, and compacity of which Psienergy can be stored.
Ego- the manifestation of the Psylock's innerself, his power materialized e.g. Paladin materialization of Weapons threw the bending of Tetra Particles...
Soul Psyphoning-the absorbtion of psylock's Ego in an attempt to Expand ones ID
The Asure- the catalyst for man's evolution, threw exposure to the asure man has broken the barriers by which god has placed upon them.

Blood spurted out of his wound like a fountain, Paladin knew he was not bound for this world much longer,

Your light dims a little more Vades, Hugo spat out as to his downed oppenent,
he dragged his crimson blade as he strode closer, he too was wounded, if this battle drew on much longer he too would be a body without a soul...

I have survived worst Blood Knight, if you think id go down that eas-
He coughed up blood as he rose to his feet, his body was unresponsive considerable damage had been done to his internal organs, his psyche was the only thing keeping him alive, but how long could he keep that up until he slipped into unconsciousness..

You shouldnt speak Hugo spoke back, you will make this quicker...and i want to enjoy this a bit longer, the fact that you have lasted this long against me Belias is a credit to your Id, I will enjoy Psyphoning your soul and harvesting your ego for myself...

Did you really think one that treads on the Gigas Road would be that easy to beat, as if your attacks have done any real damage..
Energy surge from his eyes as he spoke his hands glowed bright orange and once again he manifested his ego...The earth around him began to swirl and A spectral sword materialized from the dirt, he psyphoned what was left of Tetra particles around him to create sheild of iron...He struggled with the sheild's wieght, the blood loss was beginning affect and his vision was blurry. It was a wonder that he was still standing let alone psyphoning, but Vedas Ashford was far superior to what the norm had become...

If it came to that do you really think i would let you Reap my soul, I'd sooner burn out and leave nuthing behind... HERE I COME!!!
You really are a fool Vedas, as if I left you fade away that easily Hugo shifted to a defensive stance he was going to stand against the Juggernuats Fury...

Blood trickled down Vades's face as he charged his oppenent, he meant wat he said, he put all everything he had into this reckless flurry,
Death would come before he let up on his assualt, he let his rage take over and shifted into his Zerking stance, his sheild melded with his sword to create a claymore and and his flurry turned into an onslaught...To say he put his oppenet on the defensive was an understatement...but for one who walks the path of Blood the closer Hugo was to death the more his Victory was garuanteed...

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Well I already spoke to you so just keep writing I'm interested

It looks to me that Vades and Hugo might have actually killed each other... maybe there will be no need for us to fight over the spoils. There is an Ego for each of us.
The speaker was a massive man with stooped shoulders and a solitary horn jutting out from his right elbow. He was obviously deformed with features that seemed more like a mockery of a man's image than any person's true visage. His head hung low and his jaw was a blocky mass. His right eye was larger than the left and was charged with taking up the slack for the left that was inadequate for the job of sight. His huge arms clutched an axe that was the size of a man.

Me thinks you have misunderstood the situation.
The smaller man stood five feet tall and bore a desiccated look about him, much like a corpse. His hair hung like a black spider web over hollow eye sockets and protruding cheekbones. The eyes that stared up at the massive hunchback looked foggy and ravaged with cataracts. Rotting teeth caged an equally rotten tongue that flicked at dry and cracked lips. Skeletal fingers played with the hilt of a small dagger. Beside him rested the head of the giant's gargantuan weapon. He eyed his reflection in the huge blade and laughed a wheezing laugh.
There are two Egos over there and a third standing here waiting like a carrion hungry vulture. Me thinks that all three Egos are for me. Me thinks that you shouldn't have come here.

I did not come here to fight, old one. I am on a quest and Vades held a piece of a puzzle that I need solved. I had no desire to fight so I waited until their confrontation was over. I would have the paladin's Ego in hopes that a bit of him clings to it and I can find what I seek. You can do what you will with Hugo.
Me thinks your quest will end here.
I would rather not kill you, Reaper
Me thinks you won't

The massive axe cleaved into the ground less than an inch away from the wheezing cadaver. The small figured took a step back and drew its small dagger with its needle like blade. Reaper handled his weapon like a knife fighter and moved like a crab. His rotten tongue slithered out of his mouth and hung low almost touching the ground, viscous saliva oozing a trail in his wake. The giant raised his ax and held it vertically at his side. His body was tense but his posture was still one of non-aggression. He glanced toward the pass below where the two mortally wounded men continued their combat.

My name is Felipe, the Wandering Poet. I will ask you but once to stay out of my way, Grimmest Reaper.
Me thinks that I cannot. All Psylocks that cross my path are destined to meet their end for I am death incarnate and all Psylocks cross my path eventually. My role is Omega, the end of all things. We have met, there for you must die.

With those words the tongue of The Grimmest Reaper lashed out like an uncoiling viper and struck the giant's thigh. As the ooze bathed the leg armor, cloth and skin melted like butter. The corpse gave a wheezing laugh as the hunchback rolled to the side and began to shovel dirt onto the acidic slime to neutralize the burn. Reaper wasted no time capitalizing on his foe's lowered defense. The little figure took to the air and dove down with his needle like dagger, aiming for his victim's spine. What he met was an ax larger than himself. His stiletto blade left a small puncture in the ax head as he missed his mark and deftly avoided being cut in half. He landed on his empty hand and back flipped out of the path of the swinging ax. The giant spun like a small tornado, his blade leaving rivets in the stones that didn't just crumble from the impact of his Tempest Swirl. Dust and laughter filled the air.

Felipe came out of the spin to find that he stood in the center of a small crater. He winced, not out of physical pain but mental. His was a body built for destruction but a heart built for love. He was a poet, a lover of words not a fighter. He might look and fight like a monster but he craved a life of peace. A flash of silver caught his attention and he raised his ax to defend. To his shock two needle daggers imbedded themselves into the head of his ax just missing his throat and eye. Instinctively he rolled his massive girth to the side and gasped as a rotten tongue drew a line in his wake that dissolved under the touch of the acid. The little corpse landed, baring a dagger in each hand. The poet hopped to a defensive stance but not before a needle punctured his shoulder. He removed the stinging annoyance and puked a spray of blood.

The Reaper's poison is fast acting. Two more doses will be enough to slay the giant, Me thinks.
M... Monster
We are birds of a feather.
I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!!!

Driven by anger and pain derived from The Reaper's poison Felipe called upon his Ego. He took a deep breath and energy sped toward him like a note on the wind. His chest swelled and his usually hunched posture corrected itself. He stood and for a moment he was handsome with no deformities to scare women and children away. His Ego brought forth his true self a man with a beautiful heart and an equally beautiful talent. Another needle punctured his forearm and even as the evil venom burned through his veins he continued to suck air into his lungs. There was a moment where the world was silent save for the laughter of the wretched cadaver and then Felipe sang.

The giant collapsed to the ground as his Ego left in a refrain of three notes. He slept with a smile upon his face. In the crater lay the blasted remains of a corpse assassin. Pieces lay scattered and as a strong wind kicked up even those were dusted to nothingness.

almost done...nother couple of days and i will have it out

Pretty intense. Not sure If I call follow this story.

Where is it going? HMMmmm?

Id-The other part of the Ego, a Psylock's mana threshold, and capacity of which PsiEnergy can be stored.

Ego- the manifestation of the Psylock's inner-self, his power materialized e.g.
An old mans ability to materialize into view a situation that takes place many leagues away.
Soul Tapping-The absorption of psylock's life energy to manipulate or hold control over ones will

The Asure- the catalyst for man's evolution, threw exposure to the Asure man has broken the barriers by which god has placed upon them.


The fog has cleared all that was hidden is now visible.

Hurry up Old Man, pierce the barrier show us what needs to be seen
A tall spindly fellow stands perched upon an ancient table of great antiquity. Legs squat, Arm out stretched resting on the polished globe of of an aging man. The slight breeze blows his robe partially revealing what lays hidden underneath. Scares. Years of torture has tainted the skin to a dark indigo, this color only extenuates the florescent brands that were once symbol of tribe or ownership.

Friend you tax my powers with your will; If only you allow me freedom.
In contrast to his friend the secondary figure is short, hairy and slightly over weight. As all can see that age has treated him well. A sense of youth and vitality is seen in this ancient mans aura.

A scene unfolds. Two battles, two victors and 7 watchers. Some are present and others only watch the scene unfold from afar.

Yes, yes, they approach. All on a quest all for different reasons, and non know why. Soon we can make our presence known. So, finally after all these years they come.
The mutilated elongated arm stretches and quivers as a slight Cyan glow merges with Indigo. The old mans powers are taxed to its limits, but it seems as if the arm is providing strength and control, the arm is also sapping most of his free will. A servant bound.

My control over the scene is waning and soon the opposing forces will block me out. How much longer will you force me to push open the veil?

Sooon, very soon you will be free. First I need to know who wins. Here let me lend you some of my id. We can then be threw with each other. I will depart from your domain as smoothly as I came.

The two figures watch the slowly distorting sequence of events which could answer a question of great antiquity.

Yes, Just as I hoped. I now depart old man like promised. DONT think about hunting me down; I can avoid your sight and those of your minions.

Just as quick as control has sieged the old mans will it was released. Leaving only a single feather in the room, resting on the table. Ever so slightly the wind flows threw its contours and provides it flight to this seeming innocent feather.

As the old mans senses come clear up he manages to view the feather floating out of the room into oblivion.

good stories guys i wanna read more they are really good!

Why not try your hand at it.

im really bad at writing and i dont need to embarass myself. but i would inspire other people to write some good stuff (patrick was nominated for 2011 best support character).

Flow Merrow wrote:im really bad at writing and i dont need to embarass myself. but i would inspire other people to write some good stuff (patrick was nominated for 2011 best support character).

I voted for the other guy, lol. Just kidding. I hope you win.

Whats up wit dis story? I cant post twice in a row.

Dynasty- A coalition of Psyphers usaually of the same Path, but not always who band together to form a Syndicate.
Emperor- A psypher's whose Psynchronization with his Ego has reach 100% giving he/she full control over their Ego...

I grow impatient Vesyra, Were is Hugo, I seethe waiting for his return.

A Slender man sits on the on a throne of Ebony, the ornate platnum Plate mail suit he wears reflect the numerous Swords that swirl around him, as he speak they quickened in pace.

I should have gone myself,

A beauty beyond compare kneeled next to him, she wore her hair back seldom for the swoop she let cover her left eye. Her face was tattoed on the other side, the designs were definite magical in nature...It made sense since the robe she wore bore a dragon on it that flew from shoulder to sleeve, down her theigh then up her back again. It was restless and seemed to be prowling her body for its next meal. Briefly her cowl shimmered a crimson glow as the beast let fountain of fire from ts mouth.
My Lord be patient Hugo has not failed us yet, he always been trust worthy, he will secure the id my Liege you will see, besides if you need not trifle yourself with tideous matters, all will turn out well my Prince, you will see.


Her soft voice sounded confident on the outside but inside she was just as impatatient. Hugo should have been back by now, Paladin was formidible but
Hugo far outmatched him. She thought hard to herself, WHat could be slowing his return to the Fortress...

Its is an easy job my lord, The Paladin is still weak from his battle with Maldonus the Black, i bet write now as we speak Hugo is on his way ba-
But before she could finish a feather blew into the room and from it a cloaked figure materialized. His face bore many scars, and his body was an obvious indication that he had suffer many years of torture.

HUgo is dead my Lord my... But the Gigas has also fallen, his voice was deeper than most and though he spoke softly his voice carried throughout the chamber...
Vesyra gasped as she clutched her heart, her cloak began to glow crimson as the dragon embrioded in its unleashed a flurry of fireballs threw the cloths threading.

L-L..Lies she stammers out finally, it cannot be, H-How? Surely you Jest, Hugo would never fall so easily to anyone Gigas or not...

I do not speak lies Blood Witch, your brother has fallen, accept it...His body lies with Asha now, his soul is again one with the Asure....

It cannot be she sed again this time with much contempt in her voice, Her eyes burned with fury, the entire room seem to be eclipsed in a Crimson hue, her robes now were aflame, and the fire burned a Bloody Red...DIE!!! she screamed as both Crimson and Black Flames erupted from her mouth engulfing the entired area were the Scarred face man Knelt.

Enough, The prince interjected, as dozens of swords cut threw air, a wall of steel protected the scarred man.

[color=indigo] Control yourself Blood Witch I will not have you inturrupt me again. The Prince sighed as he slouched back down in his throne.

And What of thier egos Illithius, the prince continue, his tone was calm but his words were harsher now, did you Psyphon them and acquire what we needed?!


No forgive me, my lord it would have been to much of a risk, I could only watched from a distance as Hugo and Paladin struck eachther down...

You are a coward and snake puppetmaster, you stood there and watched him die, how dare you slither back here. I will Psyphon your Traiterous soul if you are lying, do you hear-
But Her threat was suddenly stilled, as a Falchion pressed its cold steel to her throat...she dare not say a nother word.

Control Yourself Vesyra, the prince calmly said as he peered into his nails, I have already told you once, if you cannot regain your composure i will not hesistate to reunite you with Hugo.

I beg your forgiveness sire, Her eyes still burned with anger, she glared at Illithus as she spoke, I lost myself in greif, I am myself again, it will not happen again my prince.

The sword lower itself from Vesyra's neck and retook its position dancing around the Prince...

A Raspy Voice brook the brief silence that had overtaken the room...So is it true of what I heard has Blood Knight Hugo fallen?
A man of moderate stature slowly walked into the room from one of the dark corners of the chamber. His face was thin but not as guant as the Prince's and his eyes were somewhat angular but full of depth. They gave him a calculating appearence and when he emerged from the darkness they were focused squarely on the Prince.

The Prince seem to ignore the inquiry, not seeming to care about the sudden intrusion...He was mored concerned about the IDs...

What are you doing here Phugue? Vesyra spat out, the prince did not summon you?!

His eyes moved to the Blood Witch, the depth in them were gone.

I came to investigate the large emission Psychokentic energy sourcing from you Vesyra I thought the prince may be in danger...
I came to defend him...but now that I see he is safe I shall return to my training.
Yes your training, that is all you do Fugue, Vesyra spat out...

His eyes returned to the prince, this time they radiated a blueish hue.
Still impregnable he thought to himself, as he looked downard at the medallion then he kneeled to show his respect before he exited...

But before he could return into the darkness of the room a massive Claymore blocked his way.

The prince called out to him I cannot let you return to your training just yet, Perhaps you could succeed were the Blood Knight has failed.

A dry smirk now was upon his face.
Vesyra's eyes looked downward she was obviously angered by the Princes's statement though she dared not show it.

The Prince continued, What of their bodies Illithis, are the scavangers upon them yet?

The heavily cloaked scarred faced man answered back hesistantly, No not yet my lord but i am sure of our ememies have knowledge of what has transpired sire they will be awaiting our next move.


No I doubt that Illithius they are Gigas we have killed one of their Emperors they will be looking to bring the fight to us, not lie in wait for an ambush...

You are correct my prince, Illithius relied in a shrewd tone.
Perhaps this works out to our advantage any Gigas will no do but surely there are other Gigas's Emperor whose Ego we might Psyphon for our needs?

Ofcourse they would be more formidable than the Paladin he was ofcourse the weakest Emperor amoung them and that is why he was choosen so that we could avoid war with them, and his death could be blamed on another Dynasty.

Phugue, of the Tetra Emperors whom do you know would be the easiest to Psyphon?

I can think of three sire, Phugue call back still facing the prince as he stared into the Claymore that bared his family crest upon the hilt, his anger was swelling underneath his stoic exterior.
Diamond Emperor Odin, Ash Emperor Vulcan, and Stone Emperor Horace, they are all formidable, and it would be no easy task to fell any of them.

Then We have no choice to carry out the prophecy, A smile was upon Prince's face now, War is the only option.

Ight its done i aint gonna touch it no more reread it to get a feel who ever goes next...

I dig it. you left it off perfectly for anyone (Pat) to follow through.

It took me a bit to realize who the scared faced man was.

*She is having another episode, Bayloch. We cannot let this suffering continue. The child is not strong enough for this.*

*She has no choice Vylana. This battle is hers alone. We cannot help her. You knew when you felt the child's body dying that the Psyphoning would happen. Her brother's Ego is yet strong.*

Vylana crossed to her husband. Baylock was a large man with skin as dark as night. Each muscle was defines and honed. He had a warriors body, a working man's hands and a heart devoted to his faith, and with such devotion a required dedication to his family. He had not wanted to marry, but as part of his obedience, he was required to be fruitful. His face was as hard as his muscles, save his eyes, their color such a light shade of blue, that if you'd seen his eyes alone you might mistake him for a gentle creature.

*Come. We must attend her. Please, husband. Let your prayers wait a little longer.*

Bayloch reluctantly left the alter room. He would have to compensate for his late worship. The last thing that he needed at this time was to anger Hujan. He followed his wife through their stone dwelling. He admired Vylana as he followed her. She was slinder, but strong. Her skin was not as dark as his, but dark just the same. Her dark hair swayed as she hurried and as the light caught it, the fiery red hue almost sparkled.

As they reached the observing room, a piercing scream rent his thoughts. Their pace quickened to the room of their daughter. The scene before them was the worst they had seen of yet.

Maleyan laid prostrate before them. Dark hair was pasted to her back. Her sweat had given way to blood. Her pure white skin sprinkled with purple droplets. As she heard her mother gasp, Maleyan rolled onto her back to see them, tears of blood streaming from her blue eyes, her father's eyes, down her small face. Her lips formed a silent *Mama* and then her little body began to quake and her screams were unceasing.

*He is killing her. We must help her.*

Vylana went to her daughter, but dared not touch her. Vylana had felt Kylon's body dying even as the children were developing within her. The morning of their birth, she knew that his body was gone, yet she felt his Ego still within her. She knew then it would happen, but went to the alter room and begged Hujan to spare her daughter this battle.

*Take Kylon, Hujan. Take my son* she cried, ripping at her clothes, touching the sacred ashes and spreading them onto her stomach. *Take him! Kylon is yours now. Please my God, my Protector. Take my son.*

But Hujan had not heard her. They came forth from her. Two bodies. One alive. One dead. Two Egos with only one viable vessel. Undesired Psyphoning. Kylon wanted to live, even if he had to kill his sister to do so, and so their battle began.

Three years had passed since that day. The episodes were getting worse as each day pressed on. Bayloch had studied The Prophecy. He knew that if a fourth year passed and one of his children had not claimed victory that steps would have to be taken. He had not shared these thoughts with his wife. If Maleyan was the child, he dare not speak it. For no Emperor, no Dynasty would rest until they had her in their grasp.

And as he stood there, helpless, watching his son's violent advance and daughter screaming protest, he did some begging of his own. *Please, my God, My Protector. Please Hujan. Do not let Maleyan be the child. Let her die first. Let them both meet the Grimmest Reaper before such thoughts become truths.*

Hujan faulted as he heard the silent prayers of his faithful servant, but even then his attention was drawn to the battle and he heard the final blow and saw Reaper in pieces upon the ground.

*Ahhhh!* he breathed. *At last we come to it. At last The Prophecy begins. For there is no reaper to come for the child now.*

A grotesque abomination covetously watched from the shadows…

The purple dwarf brought a knobby stub of an arm down in a slashing motion, both violent and precise. In answer to his command the world erupted. Pillar, stone slabs, the night itself tore as if by the claws of some hellish titan breaking free from its prison. Masonry and dust cascaded in a waterfall of antiquity, attesting to the frailty of even man’s oldest creations. The flames burned brightly reaching hungrily for the woman that desperately shed her robes to avoid her own immolation. Seeing victory within his grasp the dwarf thrust his other hand forward and fire like demons fleeing retribution ran the length of the ancient temple. The distant wall parted like a shocked eye with lids of melting stone and the stars in the night sky watched the clandestine battle unfold.

Mal’Anol belched challenge after challenge as we walked unharmed through flames of his mind’s creation. He was a filthy specimen even among his dubious kinsmen with white locks that hung pass his shoulders and a nose crooked and long. His flames waxed around his tread but as he inhaled they rose to new heights. The edifice around him burned. Fire licked the old and tired walls of the temple millennia old and it moaned and groaned to the vigorous touch. Like the climax of a sated lover the building shuddered bringing rock and dust to meet the ground. Dwarven was a dirty disgusting language, fittingly Mal’Anol was a dirty and disgusting creature.

Prill watched from a place between two pillars and safe from the her adversary breathed like the fabled dragons of old. She was singed but mostly unharmed though her ears would argue different if asked about the dreadful things being spewed from the purple man’s mouth. She spoke dwarven, though never in civilized company and never when mostly sober, so she knew the degrading things he intended to do to her limp form. She’d come to the old temple in hopes of finding clues to the prophecy’s meaning. She had no idea that another Psylock called the place home. He attacked without provocation for the only reason any of their kind needed, the consumption of another’s Ego. Prill wasn’t eager to kill the dwarf but she was not eager to relinquish her life’s blood either.

If thou wishes to live, vacate my presence post haste! I wish not to kill, even a beastly mongrel like you.

The pillar blazed white hot and erupted under the burn of Mal’Anol’s Psy Fire. Prill ran away from the dwarf’s searching flames not out of fear, well not entirely, but out of pity. She was a Knight of Hujan, not a member of one of the dynasties but a pilgrim searching the world for truth. Killing lacked taste even when the prize was the Ego of an enemy. She avoided yet another gout of flame that danced pass her like a flock of burning avians rushing towards the destruction of the once holy place.

I am trying to show thou mercy even if you art undeserving. Leave this place and leave me be.

This time she lacked the speed to fully avoid his evil fires and the irregular line of broiled scalp would be an eternal reminder of her mistake. She held the still smoking wound and gnashed her teeth. She cursed the dwarf in he own hideous language and his reply was equally as colorful. As the evening stars fought to peer through the many gashes marring the once splendid wreckage, she came out of hiding. Prill was a pretty woman not beautiful by most standards but possessing features that most found appealing enough. The blistering flesh of her once full head of honey colored hair was like the crumbling walls of the former temple, having seen better days.

Id boiled within the flimsy confines of her mortal shell beating angrily at the living cage which acted as jailor and conduit. Power rushed forth. Ego rushed forth. Prill rushed forth.

A purple runt of a man crowned in fire flies through the night trailing feathers of flame wields talons hellfire.
Yellow shields swirled around a priest that was once a woman and later a seeker of answers.

A spiral of fire breaks against a wall of spectral shields like a tsunami of all-consuming magma to splash like dancing imps of the inferno. As the sphere of luminescent disc compressed into a glowing ball the arms of a purple half-man grew to fires meters long. Those burning appendages crushed downward repeatedly, incinerating ceiling and floor wherever they touched. The ball rolled through the blaze and a priest kicked a midget with a blow that left him flat. The burning that had once been a temple began to die as their source lost concentration.

Prill looked down on the filthy dwarf in full righteous fury. Six feet of psylock encircled by shields of manifested Ego, honey tinted hair highlighted by yellow psychic light. In her hand sat comfortably a hammer of the sacred knighthood. She looked into the eyes of her attacker and where he harbored malice she offered forgiveness, as were Hujan’s teachings.

I am Prill St. Tiber, Knight of Hujan. It is the way of my lord that I offer you salvation and exoneration for your transgressions. I would avoid your death if at all possible. I am a reso-

Mal’Anol’s eyes burned with an intensity rivaled only by the fires swiftly rekindling all around them. His soul burned to demolition the former temple, as was common for dwarves of his temperament, and desecrate the female psylock’s toned body, also common among dwarves of his temperament. Tentacles of fire erupted out of his garments like hungry grasping feelers and The Hammer of St. Tiber fell.

The flames abruptly died.

A purple face smashed to paste.

A knight triumphant.

Prill, conserving what was left of her psienergy, stumbled through the ruined building. Her vision fluttered as pain ran up her spine, a pain taxing enough to drop her to her knees. Confused and quickly becoming blind she reached desperately to the source of her pain. She yanked free a blade of a purely unique design, small with a tiny hilt and a blade like a needle… neeeedle…kneeedel…nidle…ni…n. She jerked upward unaware that she’d even dozed off. The effort to stand left her weak and befuddled. The room seemed different, somehow darker. The effort to stand left her weak and befuddled. The smell of putrescence that hung in the air was too strong, far too strong even for a recently killed dwarf of less than acceptable hygiene. The effort to stand left her weak an-

With the sound of a whip crack her air ways were constricted as a mass of rotten meat pulled her skyward with the strength of a boa constrictor. Flesh and cloth dissolved with equal ease. A desiccated face came into view even as consciousness slipped away for the last time.

And as I walked toward the doors of oblivion it was feared that the grimmest of dark things would forever be banished from the nightmares of man, and the world demanded my return. Me thinks my story is far from over.

The winds blew violent and frigid, raking frozen talons across the bared chest of the world. Snow fell to the earth in heavy curtains that blocked out the sun and the nose in front of one’s face. Nature howled her mournful rage at children that have begun to cannibalize themselves for precious Id. The mountain shook slightly or was it just imagination? A collection of towers sat atop a desolate peak, hammered by the elements. On the highest peak at the northern most tip of the world sat Frost God’s Citadel.

An older man stood in the doorway of Odin’s Tavern and stomped heavily to break the frost clinging defiantly to his boots. He apologized to the patrons nearest the door, a pair of foulmouthed, hook nosed dwarves and rubbed his hands as he greeted the barkeep. He ordered a flagon hot spiced mead and scanned the room. He didn’t need to search long for his quarry was seated in his usual seat. He took a deep gulp of the hot liquid and relished the sensation of his nearly frozen body coming back to life. He hated the trip from Thrune’s Tower down to The Odin. He crossed the room and sat heavily in the empty seat facing the man he sought.

“The Dynasties have broken the armistice and fallen upon each other like blood thirsty barbarians. Seventy-five nations burn. The Watcher claims to have seen The Prince and his Blood Witch on the field of battle. All that we know is crumbling and you sit in a drafty pub sipping subpar wine.”

It is a pleasure to see you too, Alberto. I would offer you a seat but you are already melting all over one.

“They say you have the Id to be the greatest Emperor alive.” The old man was not a psylock and thus unable to sense Id. To him the man before him was rakishly handsome with a sharp wit and the finest upbringing. But he could not see the makings of an Emperor, not this slacker. “Your father is prepared to leave the safety of The Citadel and join the war effort! He is willing to put the entire Dynasty on the line.” The younger man looked unperturbed as he sipped from his chilled glass. “Lutin, people are dying while you fuss over which wine looks best with your tunic. Doesn’t it bother you?”

No. My father is an Emperor, a master of his Ego. He has been fighting this holding pattern for most of my life. Should I be shocked that he wishes to finally clash swords with our enemies and have done? I suspect that were it not for his fear for my sister’s life we would have left Frost God long ago. It bothers me that these men, made gods by The Azure, wish to rip that godhood from one another’s breast. But what bothers me more is that you’ve decided to interrupt my meal.

“May your father, whom I’ve served faithfully for more than three decades, forgive my harsh words.” Alberto reached across the table and smacked the half-filled glass of wine to the floor. He paled at the furious look Lutin cast upon him but returned it in kind. “You ungrateful, cur. Your father brought you here to shield you from the endless killing. Frost God Citadel is the only neutral ground that all Dynasties acknowledge. You are safe because he gave up everything for you. He is no warmonger he is a father that loves his children more than glory or even his powerful Id.”

I’ve heard all of this before, old man.

“Well hear this, young master. Your sister is dead.” Alberto watched Lutin’s face for a reaction, anything from a twitch to a tear. What he saw infuriated him. Lutin showed nothing, Lutin always showed nothing. “Boy, I suddenly feel the urge to strike you. Did you hear what I said? Prill is dead! Your father is ready to go to war. Everything is crumbling around us. Say something!”

I need more wine…

Elsewhere.

On a dusty hillside a man screams. At his feet his brother’s life spends itself upon the filthy rock. His was not a scream of triumph but of defeat. His twin brother’s Id reverts to freeflowing Azure and invades his body through every orifice possible. The process is painful and exhilarating, intoxicating and sobering. When it is over and the siphoning has passed. The man mourns for a brother who’s misguided loyalty lead him to serve an Emperor who sacrificed him without a second thought. These were dark times. He begins to bury his kid brother and is too consumed with grief to here the footfalls of an approaching elf.

I am sorry for your loss, my friend.

This is not the time, Puck, I bury my baby brother.

Why here? Why now?

I had asked him to meet me here where our family home once stood. He ranted about his new master and… and when I refused to go back with him he attacked me.

Ramey was strong. I am glad that you proved victorious.

I am not. He knew I was the stronger psylock yet he attacked me anyway. He was not in his right mind.

The world is on the brink of the precipice, The Dynasties are at war. We have entered strange times.

Why are you here, my old friend? There is nothing to this place but water and rock. Even the town I grew up in has fallen into the ocean.

I am on a mission.

You are always on a mission. Be about your business and leave me in peace. My mood is soured and I do not wish to talk.

I can not, Moses. I can see from your face you begin to understand. Let us not come to blows, enough blood was spilled today.

Who is the master that has sent you on these clandestine missions all of these years?

I serve Emperor Oberon of The Neo Avalon Dynasty, as did your brother. I was instructed to bring you both back, regardless of who won.

You have betrayed me!

No, my allegiances have never swayed. You are my friend as was Ramey but Lord Oberon is my master. I offer you salvation. Lord Oberon commands powerful psylocks, psylocks that can give you back your brother. But we must move fast for his Id has already been siphoned.

We have been manipulated…

Yes, my friend, you have. I am sorry.

Frost God Citadel.

Around a huge round table sits the Emperors and Master Psylocks of The Vermillion Glade Dynasty. Though an old Dynasty it is small when compared to many. It has no official leader yet all defer to Emperor Basilisk, an aging psylock with deep set eyes that swim with caustic venom. His gaze could poison, his bite could kill. Yet he is a man of peace, a man dedicated to the protection of his followers and his children. He had moved his seat of power to The Citadel, losing many who’d believed he’d turned coward, but in the end a father must do what is necessary for his children. He was once an ambitious warlord but his daughter changed him into a man prone to laugh and smile. Now the old warrior was back and frothing with the venom he was known for.

The Puppetmaster, Illithius, was here. He forced me to use my powers and observe a battle.

Battle is joined everywhere! We need information that can be useful, Watcher.

He obviously thinks this relevant. Just the knowledge that Illithius would dare attack us here at The Citadel tells us much.

The Paladin and The Gigas have slain each other in open combat. The Prince would never sacrifice such an important piece unless he had his moves planned. I have yet to find proof with my Universal Eye but I believe that it is the time of The Prophecy.

Old man, I fear that you that you have finally cracked. The prophecy is a fairy tale. There will be no Messiah born with two Egos that will end the four thousand year wars.

Brother, you speak blasphemy! Hujan teaches us that he will return to us within the vessel of a psylock with power beyond any before it, a psylock with two opposing Egos, and we will receive salvation.

This is crazy! Can’t you-

Silence… my daughter has been taken from me. Hujan’s return or not, someone will pay for this be it The Tetra, The Neo Avalon, or The Prince himself. Someone will pay for my Prill!

The room fell silent for many of the gathered Psylocks had joined The Vermillion Glade after Basilisk had given up his warmongering for the sake of his children. They had never seen The Mad Serpent, they had never seen his venom at work. He sat eyes closed and red with rage. The Watcher raised his hand in a sign of surrender and the Cadman Sunspot nodded his defeat as well. Tiber, The Broken Tower, cleared his throat and began to discuss battle strategy when the doors to the hall burst open. All save Basilisk turned to see Alberto return with Lutin in tow. The latter was obviously drunk.

A slender Psylock in gilded Death Crab armor jumped to his feet, white mist swirling around him.

Alberto was sent for you three hours ago. How dare you play the rake at a time like this?

I understand, Gavin. We all know how much you loved my sister. If only there had been more time… you might have proposed.

The mist fanned out and arched rigidly like the talons of a bird.

How dare you? She was my cousin!

And your lover if you had had anything to say about it. Cadman, be a gentleman and pour me a glass of those spirits.

You’ve overstepped!

Claws of mist slash across Lutin’s tunic, ruining the garment and sending him flying across the room. His attacker leapt through the air and landed beside him. His features were contorted in anger and his breathing was heavy. He grabbed Lutin by the collar and hoisted him to a standing position. The mist around them slowly formed a spear, poised to strike. As the weapon drew nearer he tightened his grip. Lutin drunkenly laughed in his face.

I’m sure if you had shown this kind of bravery before she would have noticed you. If you had let her see that you were a real man, Gavin, she might have returned yoursecret love.

Gavin yelled inarticulately and tossed Lutin to the floor. He snatched the mist spear out of the air and pressed the tip to the drunk’s throat.

Summon your Ego! Use your Id! Fight me! I am sick of everyone tiptoeing around the antisocial Lutin because his father is The Great Basilisk or because his Id is immense. What good is power if you don’t have the strength to use it? Fight me! Scrounge up something inside you other than liquor and protect yourself or, Hujan as my witness, I will finish you!

In love with my sister and jealous of me? Cousin Gavin, I am trul-

Lutin spilled the contents of his stomach all over the floor. Gavin, angered that his challenge was becoming a farce, thrust forward ready to slay the drunken fool and face the consequences later. He believed in Basilisk but could not handle the thought of Lutin filling Prill’s spot asa the old Emperor’s conscience. Better to kill him than to let him destroy his father. Mere inches before the spear of mist could taste Lutin’s blood sphere of light intercepted the weapon and consumed it. Lutin crawled away from the energy as it grew, strengthened by its feast. Gavin too moved away from the sunspot. A blow to the gut by The Broken Tower left him on his knees gasping for air.

Have we all gone mad? Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves. Stay down Gavin or I will crush you, don’t you overstep. Our enemies gather in force to destroy the peace we have fostered for nearly three decades. Tiber grabbed a handful of Gavin’s hair and raised his head to look at the table. These men and women are your allies, boy, Basilisk took you in when Oberon’s riders siphoned your parents. Don’t interrupt his mourning with madness. Lutin is a cur who revels in proving his uselessness but we all know how you felt about Prill. Take that hurt within your heart and save it! We soon go to war to avenge her.

The Broken Tower helped Gavin Mistchild to his feet and tousled his hair as if he were a child. The ball of light faded and the room grew dimmer. At the table The Vermillion Glade reconvened its war council. Lutin was content to lie on the floor and listen. He had very little intentions of fighting in this or any battle. When he struck back at Gavin it would not be on the field of glory but in the dead of night.