As the bird flew through the nights air there was a cold harsh wind opposing him, fighting its way into the birds small lungs to pierce it with a cold taint. Breaking into a dive the air thrust itself as if in a blocking stance trying to hold the bird airborne failing miserably as the bird broke through its invisible barriers.

Landing slightly ruffled and perching it self on a withered statue the bird absorbed its surroundings with precision and extreme curiosity. It was around this time that the statue came in to focus, the statue was a large robed figure carrying a sort of stick, it was made of cold stone and seemed to look like it once had a soul but which was now gone with the wind.

Peering up the bird could see a long bleak road with large monstrous walls on either side and little huts set up between them both. The walls were recently fortified and given defence towers every mile. This is due to the growing threat of attacks from the E.B.U. This town was simply one long road with a fortified wall on either side, used for barrier purposes between the two connecting states. So therefore if an attack was made the inhabitants would be the ones to loose their homes. But these inhabitants cared not for there dismal existence as they governed themselves and cared only about money. And if you cared for money and nothing more then this was a town to live in.

Boarder Town Watch is famous for being a corrupt slum with massive death rates. The land here is some of the cheapest in the world and has the only place where taxes do not exist; but you run the risk of seeing the next day.

Walking down Boarder Town Watch a shadowy figure hummed to himself taking in all his surroundings; his eyes focusing specifically on the bodies just asleep on the floor and the poorly created huts. He was holding a letter that rustled as it stroked past his robe in the wind, the letter had been sent to him one week previously and stated “something he wanted could be found at Gurnys Pubfoot on The first night of Yew.”

Turning left he came face to face with the biggest building or shack seen so far. Without noticing previously he had know realised that the road had opened into a sort of roundabout shape with a large statue in the middle. Peering back down to his crumpled letter he breathed deeply so that when the air escaped his mouth the outside air gave a shy scream in greeting.

The shack had a rusty metal sign saying “Urnys PbfUt.” It was common knowledge for places to be misspelt in the town and the man wasn’t at all surprised when reading this. The shack or building sounded like there was more people in this building then the rest of the town with the sound of gruff shouting voices and chairs screaming as they are dragged violently across the hard course floor.

As he opened the door and walked in he was sure the noise had made a local bird fly from its nest on the statue nearby…

---------------------------------------

Syrus stood up out of his dusty chair and peered around the room soaking in the information like a sponge, eying his escape routes with immense strain, the room which was clouded in a thick smoke conveniently hid what Syrus thought were a lot of people wanted by some sort of law enforcement. He could barely make out there details but could clearly make out there body language through the silhouette. All of them minus one were crouched over there drinks either in deep conversation with a neighbour, downing their drinks or hovering the hand over the weapons. The odd man out though was also like Cyrus standing up and seemed to also b eying the doorway as if waiting for someone. He was holding what looked like a roll of parchment and Syrus was sure he briefly glimpsed over at Syrus…

Creeping back down into his now dustier seat, Syrus looked up to the large oak door; someone had just walked in…
OOC: The man and bird by the way are just ways to show and express the nature of the town and area.

The echo of thunder could be heard from the local inn of boarder town but none of the guests in the dining area could hear it or the door opening. Though it was a dining area, it mainly served as a second bar when the others had become full. The inn rarely ever had guests so the patrons were usually residents consisting of thieves, thugs, mercenaries, dungeon crawlers and whatever scum resided in the town. Most of them were too busy to notice the door to the inn opening and the mysterious stranger entering.

He wore red and green robes with the hood over his eyes and carried a staff. The inn keeper who was working as waiter walked up to him. "Rooms are filled. You might have better luck finding some shelter under a tree."

The figure pulled back the hood to reveal a glowing tinge in his eyes and replied. "I'm not here for a room. I'm looking for a wizard."

"There ain't none of them damned spell-casters here." the inn keeper replied. "If it's a wizard, if it's a wizard you're looking for. You should have stayed at that cursed school of yours." the bartender chuckled at his own joke. The figure didn't pay attention and walked passed the inn keeper and entered the dining area.

The patrons of the pub chattered as he walked past them, some stopped and took a look at the new visitor but he paid them no mind as he walked towards the side of the bar that was empty save for one individual, a man dressed in blue robes, his hair once fine and cared for, now scruffy, his boots had mud on the bottom and his skin, once tanned now starting to fade. The robed figure sat down next to him and spoke. "I never thought I'd see the day when I would find you here, of all places."

The man didn't reply but simply stared dull eyed at the goblet of ale in front of him. The robed figure now shouted that startled the other patrons. "Regas!"

The man finally snapped to and looked at his visitor. "Shamiil? Shamiil! Oh man oh it's been ages. He stumbled from his chair and embraced Shamiil who became who became surprised and uttered. "You stink. how much have you had?" Regas released him and went back to his chair and pondering, held out an awkward looking talon with all fingers and sputtered "Thiss this many. plus that other one."

"I can tell." Shamiil replied. "But you stink of something else. Like the smell in professor Jenra's potion room. You've been out in the woods haven't you?"

Regas began laughing at his own thoughts. "Gotta make a livin' somehow. So what if I make potions for people." He leaned over to Shamiil and tried to whisper but ended up talking out loud regardless. "You wouldn't know of anyone who's in need of some invisibility potions at all cause I just made a batch this morning."

"Like I would trust you with potions." Shamiil responded. "The last time I took an invisibility potion from you, my skin turned purple for 3 days!"

"Oh I was just having fun." Regas scoffed and chuckled and started to sway back and forth while in a pondering pose. "If I remember correctly, you always hated Professor Jenra's potion making class."

"Shamiil rolled his eyes and continued. "Well I'm not here to purchase potions. I'm here because-" before he could finish, the inn keeper who was delivering a pitcher of ale tripped on Shamiil's staff and hit the ground with a hard thud, the platter hit the ground with a loud clang and all the patrons stopped and stared, they didn't stare at the inn-keeper but rather the pitcher of ale that was now suspended in the air and glowed with a soft light. The patrons began to stare at the source, Shamiil, with his hood over his eyes held his hand towards the pitcher and was chanting silently. The only sound that could be heard was the inn-keeper getting back up and cautiously and carefully grabbing the pitcher. Once he did, Shamiil stopped chanting and turned back to Regas who managed to control his swaying and seemed to have sobered up from the sight.

"So." Regas now able to clearly think and sat back. "You became a mystic."

"And an illusionist." Shamiil replied, dancing a coin on his finger then grabbing and opening his hand to show nothing was there. "But that's besides the point. I have a proposition for you." He took out a folded up parchment and unfolded. The parchment was covered with runes and writings. "I found this while looking through the archives. It's Halseth's final parchment.

"Yeah, I know. We all had to read it. It's how the graduates learn Halseth's final spell."

"Not just that." Shamiil replied. "look here. at the final part."

Regas peered at the final part of the writings. "And to you fellow Wizard, I leave to you my weapon and my legacy." the final part was the runes which one had to learn Halseth's final spell, the elemental blast which was a devastating multi-elemental spell that was only taught to graduate students at the university while under strict watch of the professors who taught it. Regas managed to remember one graduates account of having to sit at a small desk with this scroll in a small rune covered room for hours while the professor stood behind him.

"Well?" Shamiil started. "What do you think?"

"I think I see why you became a mystic of all things." Regas smirked and began rocking back and forth again. "That field had a knack for attracting and producing crazies."

"That's what I meant." Shamiil replied.

Regas pondered and then answered. "I still think you're crazy. Besides everyone pretty much knows that Halseth meant his spell when he talked about his weapon.

"Then what is his legacy?" Shamiil shot back.

Regas actually had to think for a moment at the question but finally came with an answer. "His writings, his history of helping found the university."

"That's what I thought too." Shamiil replied. "But then I remembered. Before the school. The only way for a wizard to pass down his spells was to take on apprentices. Remember? Wizards of Halseth's time taught and passed down their spells to their pupils."

"So?" Regas scoffed again.

"So?" Shamiil spoke up. "His spell is his legacy that he passed down. Meaning that the weapon must be something else. You remember that story we heard as first years about Halseth's staff. That he put his final spell in it. Think about it. A staff with such a power."

Regas started to seriously consider the possibility but then shook his head. "That story was made by the teachers and told to first years to inspire the first years and to drive out the idiots who would make the Mystics look bad."

"What about this?" Shamiil pointed to the large set of runes at the bottom of the parchment.

"What are you daft?" Regas replied, and started swaying back and forth. "Those are the runes for the spell. Fire, Ice and Lightning."

"How about now?" Shamiil asked. He held out his hand above the runes as if to turn a lock, three of his fingers glowed a different color. He turned his hand to the right and he spoke "fire." one of the runes began to glow and he turned his hand now to the left and spoke "Ice." and a second glow and with a final turn to the right he spoke "Lightning." and the runes began to glow bright. The letters and runes began to move on the pages until it wasn't Halseth's final writing but now resembled a map. The site had sobered up Regas who's jaw now hung from his mouth.

"Still think I'm crazy?" Shamiil asked with a smile.

Regas couldn't believe what he had seen. The sobering experience knocked the senses out of him. "What do I think?" He replied. "I think we need drinks."

Several hours had passed and now the only patrons left were Regas and Shamiil who were laughing and discussing of their past. Enough time had passed for Regas to sober up some and for Shamiil to lighten up and order a few. "So." Regas asked. "How long till you graduate?"

"One more year." Shamiil replied. "I've already procured a place at the guild hall in one of the towns."

"Ah." Regas replied. "What about Jamseh and Lelles."

"Lelles is enjoying your position as battle mage for the garrison. He barely has to do any work, gets paid more than enough to not do much work. It should have been your position you know." Shamiil pointed out.

"That was before what happened last year." Regas interrupted. "What about Jamseh?"

Shamiil paused and then answered. "Jamseh... was expelled. Shortly after you left." Regas was struck by the news. He had known Jamseh who had proven to be a powerful conjurer and summoner. Shamiil continued. "There were reports of grave robbing near the area. Someone had been digging up the graves and stealing the bodies. They did a search of the dorms and found "parts" in his room. He had been practicing Necromancery. That was those sounds we had heard late in the evening. But look, enough about the past. What matters is now. Think about it. If we find this weapon, you could be reinstated into the university, even get that battlemage position. Well?"

Regas pondered for a moment. "Well, the best way to seal the deal is with drinks. Barkeep! Two more rounds." The innkeeper brought two glasses. Regas took one and handed the other to Shamiil. They both downed the glasses. Shamiil began to talk about something but then felt groggy. He tried to recall how many he had, he knew it couldn't have been at most three drinks. He started swaying back and forth and blinked. When his eyes opened, he was alone in the bar with the inn keeper standing over him.

"I've warned him before about doing that." the innkeeper gruffed.

"What? What do you mean?" Shamiil managed to ask, trying to clear his head.

"He usually slips something into someone's drink. Usually an angry adventurer or a customer who wanted their money back cause a potion they used backfired. knocks them out for a couple of hours. I won't ask you to pay for your drinks seeing as how the last ones couldn't pay for theirs as well."

Shamiil began feeling for his gold pouch and couldn't find it, but he was shocked when he noticed that the scroll he brought with him was missing aswell. He ran to the door and peered outside. The road was dead quiet in the night.

Regas tossed his new gold pouch up and down before placing it into one of the inner pockets in his robes. He patted the folded up parchment in his chest walked toward the back part of the town. The houses started looking more like shacks and the farther he stumbled through the streets, the more dilapidated and scarce the houses became until finally he stood infront of what once was a nice looking home but now fell into disarray. He opened the door and the strong scent from inside caused the contents of his stomach to come back up. He kicked dirt around the vomit and walked inside once he got used to the strong smells that came from the clusters of potions that dotted the room. Some of the potions had descriptions on them. Others were labled simply "Healing" or "Night vision." A few simply had a skull and cross-bone on their label. He took a vial that read "For hangovers." on it, took a swig of it before falling into his bed and drifting to sleep.

The sands were a pain when walking through the area... A dark silhouette was barely visible in the sands that flew around the border town of Watch. The only problem.. few thought they saw the shadow of a human... while others saw that of a Wyrm... It would have made people panic to see the image of a Dragon.. but it was in the midst of a sandstorm and everyone who saw it thought it was only the sand playing tricks on them.

As the images of shadow began to disappear as the figure got closer.. a low grumbling sound could be heard.. It was of a lost traveler.. the sandstorm that had come up had taken it's toll on the weary traveler.. never in her wildest imagination would she think of getting lost in an element she knew greatly... But sand was temperamental.. even for her ilk... even if she had grounds to believe she was possibly the last of them...

Moving down the cobblestone streets.. yet not making any sound.. There was no click, or clank to her step. In fact.. it didn't sound like no footwear was present at all...

Looking around for a place to rest. The weary traveler looked at the eyes that were also watching her.. Many people eyed what they deemed a possible easy target.. The woman, however, just covered herself up even more and finally found a strangely spelled sign to a tavern of some sort..

Not really knowing what went on in there? The traveler went in and looked around.. She was greatly covered.. Looking like She had in fact just come out of the sands outside the town. Everything was covered.. Even the sand swept scarf over her mouth was covered almost entirely to the brim of the piece

Finally eying a small and vacant table, the traveler moved over towards it and sat down... Becoming slightly comfortable and eying around.. too bad three burly men came up and stood beside her. Roaring up a storm until one put his hand on her shoulder and tried to squeeze it into making her go into submission.. It stopped when a clawed hand moved up and did the same thing.. only her grip was far more powerful than his.

"Oi, what the bloody hell are ye' you scaled Lil' Bitch?!?" The man yelled as her claws began to draw blood just before the man let go of her shoulders. Afterwards she to let go. the men, however didn't back off at that point...

They drew their blades...

"Oi... take it outside.. Don't need anymore broken tables.. You three owe enough as it is!" A bar keep said as he looked at the three.. Who sheathed their blades. "Miss.. I'll have to ask ye to leave.. Don't allow freaks in me pub...." The bar keep said over the stillness of the room.. Everyone looked at the woman as she had gotten to her feet... She didn't need to cause anymore ruckus in the place.. Her claws had done enough as it is.. She could see an ambush outside after leaving.. But there'd be three corpses.. not just only one...

After eying another who was also watching. A thrown tomato hit the side of her head.. Nearly knocking her off balance.. making her cloak show a bit of her legs.. they were draconic in appearance.. very rare to see.. but even rarer, was the tail that had shot out to regain the woman's balance..

The tail wasn't seen for long though.. Right after it appeared.. The traveler ran straight out. tail gone and all.. as she stopped outside and caught her breath... "Good one, Myou... Nearly blew it in there..." Myou said to herself. But the man in the tavern that she looked over at the last second had intrigued her.. it seemed he was some sort of race other than Human.. Possibly Elven.. He had a sort of magic aura about him that a normal human didn't have.

Too bad, Myou didn't have time to dwell on the matter.. Footsteps were following her now and she knew her claws would get a workout soon.. Unless someone had the decency to intervene... But looking at the town.. Not highly likely...

That was enough. Syrus stood up now for the first time in hours, he had seen all that he needed to see…

“You sir, we are forming a party to drive that freak out of town or kill her at the stake. Are you in?” muffled a porky little man with what looked like small beads for eyes.

“Why sir, I quite honestly could not care less, however I will for the sake of community spirit which I have noticed this place lacks; be intrigued to join you and your little friends.”

The reply was said very politely however the grunting man wasn’t sure whether this was a nice comment or an insult, after a minute to ponder the man gave a curt nod and moved on to pick up hid sword and walk to the front of the door.

Scyrus could see as they all stood on the inside of this door the same man flicker his eyes over to Syrus, obviously unsure what to make from him. Syrus at this merely smiled genuinely and carried on standing on the spot, curious to when they would leave.

“Now lads, this ain’t no normal freak, she ‘as got some claws and stuf’ so lets not give her special treatment ‘cus she a female “ The rest of the room roared at this and Syrus noticed the bartender cradling a very sharp kitchen blade.

The man in front who had been preaching these words of hate now turned to the door…only the door had been replaced by a brick wall mirroring that of the rest of the building. Dumbstruck he attempted to finger around the wall for a handle but found none. Before he could point this out to a forming restless mob a large man walked past and gestured he stand aside.

“It gives me great discomfort to have to inform such a well formed angry mob that there will be no…urgh, mobbing today.” Syrus spoke with confidence.

Syrus could hear them all looking from each other and back to him and stating there thoughts on his mentality. The beady eyed man however didn’t take his eyes of Syrys.

“Now ill be off but thank you for the invite and sorry to be a kill joy. Oh could one of you pick up my bill, thanks”

Before anyone could mutter a single reply to this Syrus had walked straight through the wall; the moment he made contact with it an archway appeared before quickly closing up behind him.

Syrus knew he had to find that strange specie that had entered the pub but more importantly the man with the scroll. Why had the man who originally occupied the scroll glanced over to Syrus and why did that man take it from what seemed to be his friend. Was it one of these men that had sent Syrus the letter which lead him to the dreaded town…

‘Come to the biggest bar in the Boarder watch town and you with others might learn of something to be found…’Either way Syrus needed to find these two people and quite quickly at that; the illusion spell cast on the entrance to the pub wouldn’t last much longer as it had held out rather a while now. Turning on his heal he began to pace of down the back alleys, where could they be? Considering the female was covered in sand and the previous man wasn’t he assumed that the man must live in the area as he didn’t show the signs of someone who just walked through what was obviously a sand storm.

Turning left and then right Syrus noticed what looked like a 3 legged woman walking down an alley. Was this the tailed female….

Cautiously but hastily strolling now Syrus would peer around him to make sure he was not about to be caught in a thieves trap.

She turned the corner and Syrus stopped. She would well think of him as someone out to get her in contrast to someone wanting a talk in this dreadful town; and he didn’t want to turn the corner and end up in a fight. Deciding to follow her some more he conjured a long flight of stairs to the top of the large building on his right and ran to the top. Peering over he saw her once more and a little to the right he saw in a window, a sleep was a man clutching a scroll in his hand…

Noting the position of the house in his mind he decided now was the time to make contact with the female creature at his low. He could now hear the screams and shouts of the mob and had guessed that this would only gain them more support from the locals. If the three of them were to aid each other in the location of the rewards on the scroll they would need to act now. He didn’t no why he was so sure that the man would allow their help with the scroll; however it was in the others interest to do so.

This was a test for the other two in Syrus eyes, if they met Syrus high standards he would allow them to aid him on a very dangerous quest…

It had been long ago when Syrus first came about the hearsay of what is known as the race of DARANGO. This ancient race apparently resides in the sea in what’s known to be called the Dragoon city Cocoon. They are supposedly know ledged on everything that had happened since the dawn of time in Ede and are not born but made through knowledge of the waves. Studying more on these ancient beats on his travels to the different Universities and shrines Syrus became obsessed.

However one story gripped him further;

‘The one who finds the map to our realm will be rewarded with knowledge and strength or they can choose a fate fit for gods….
….. Take upon the task we give you as men and succeed to be seen forever as gods..’

It would be a dangerous mission and Syrus new it would be impossible to gain the map without 2 strong partners to aid him.

Conjuring a slide in front of him he fell on his arse and slid to the bottom, getting up with elegance he turned to the girl and held out his hand…

“ I mean you no harm, take my hand if you seek further greatness then that already obtained; or run to my left as a mob moves from the right…”

After walking for a short time. Myou could hear the mob.. they were finally coming. But she wondered why it had gone silent for a time? But her thoughts were disrupted when the last man she had looked at landed right in front of her... She didn't know how or why? But now the mob was coming closer. Too close for her liking.. It seemed the entire city was now in an uproar!

Before noticing the stranger's hand. Myou had gone for her twin daggers that were strapped to the sides of her legs. She stopped and listened.. She really didn't know what to think. But one dead man was alot easier to hide than thirty...

She stood up and looked behind her. Torches could be seen and the winds were beginning to pick up again.. She wouldn't be able to fly and she assumed that this town would have a good force of archers at each tower's postern...

But looking at the now... Myou had no choice.. She preferred the non violent approach and took the man's hand... Trying greatly not to hurt it.. Her claws were extensively sharp, as she stood right in front of him. She was trying to make out a face. But like her, his face was unable to be seen due to the hood.

The roar of mob chanting was getting louder as Myou looked back. they were nearing them.. and quickly.. "Do tell. Exactly what you have in store to get us out of here alive? I can hear that they have separated into smaller groups.. I don't believe going in any direction as it stands would be wise.. but not as much as staying where we are as sitting ducks..." Myou said as a hint of fear entered her voice.. She hated towns.. especially for this reason.. She could never get a break otherwise and changing wasn't an option.

As she moved her head back to see a stray arrow coming near. She moved into The man and both were missed by the arrow. "I believe it is time to go, Yes?" She said and quickly used her tail to kick up alot of sand into the already moving wind current in the alleyway. It wasn't much... but a mere two minute distraction never hurt anybody.. unless used by an assassin. Then you have a problem.

Regas stood before one of his old friends and peers in a small room. The mage now turned necromancer Jamseh. He saw his friend hooded in black robes standing in a room surrounded by stone tables, each with a white cloth on top of the tables. As he focused on the tables he discovered the white cloths were covering something. In horror he watched as Jamseh pulled back the cloths to reveal what used to be the recently deceased but now were abominations. mix matched parts stitched on to the corpses, their faces mangled and tortured to reflect horror. Jamseh still hooded snapped his fingers and the abominations arose, moaning and groaning. They moved closer to Regas and Jamseh casually strolled up to him until he was face to face with his friend. When he was barely a foot away, he pulled back his hood to reveal a rotting face. The eyes barely remained in their vast sockets. A hole on the right side of his face gaped into his mouth. Skin had been peeled off at the top to reveal his skull. Some of the bone had been cracked and the brain pulsed from within. He spoke to Regas. "Hello my friend. Won't you join us?"

Regas tried to back away but bumped into someone behind him. He turned to see his father in his battlemages armor, the front plating had claw marks on it and his father's face, once handsome was burned beyond Recognition. His father held him and said "Hello Son. Won't you join us?"

Regas woke up screaming with his hand held out. He found himself no longer with his friend and father. He was back home in his shack. He calmed his breathing and assured himself it was just a dream. However, for him it had been real enough as he looked at a now charred chair at a table next to his bed. He had nightmares before. But none made him absently cast a spell.

He took a swig of a near by potion. He was still breathing hard and though he had just cast a fireball spell, his whole body was shivering. He reassured him again. "It was just a dream you fool. It was just a dream." Trying to calm himself down, he started thinking about the past, of the university, of his friends and he remembered Jamseh, who had been a prodigy and a powerful summoner. Rumored to be able to summon and control demons. "But it wasn't enough." He said to himself. "It wasn't enough for you Jamseh, you had to cross the line."

He turned from his memories of his friend and onto Halseth and the scroll. He took it out and looked at it. It had turned back into Halseth's final writing to a fellow Wizard. He eyed the runes and thought about the possibility of an undiscovered power. "Halseth had been a powerful Arch-mage." Regas thought. "Powerful enough to forge three elements into a single spell." He pondered. "But could he possibly have taken that spell and put it into a staff? No. It takes enormous amounts of energy just to cast the spell, let alone to create it. But to put it into a staff..."

Regas' thoughts were interrupted as he heard what sounded like footsteps running past his home and the sounds of shouts of people. He opened his door to find two figures run past him. One of whom, looked like she was covered in scales. He stepped out to be in between the two people and the mob that pursued them who slowed down when they neared him.

He shouted to them. "I would like to thank the moron that decided it would be fun to run in front of my house, my headache wasn't bothering me enough." "He took a step forward, thanking the fact enough time had past that he was relatively clear headed. "So who do I thank?"

"Just go back inside you whelp." One of the mobsters spoke up. A big bearded man took a step forward. He was holding what looked like a tree trunk with a handle on it. He looked at Regas then scowled. "Wait a second. You're that no good wastrel who sold me that night vision potion. The one that made me colorblind for three days and then gave me the slip!"

"Now hold on a second there!" Regas interrupted. "Forgetting about the negative after effects, technically you could see in the dark."

"Oh I've been waiting for this!" The big man roared, he brought up the tree trunk up over his head and brought it down upon the Wizard. He sneered but then looked up in horror, instead of a wizard who only went up to his shoulders, stood what looked like a metal demon. He wore a dark silver and red armor. He wore a crown of blade over his head that formed the helm, spikes and edges covered the torso. Two spikes jutted out from the gauntlets. His face was in a constant snarl with metal teeth. Red beaming eyes glared at the man.

From within the armor Regas spoke, "Is that all you've got." He brought a fist into his hand, the metal clang caused some of the mob to back. He was glad the armor covered his whole body though so they couldn't see his face. Though the armor absorbed most of the damage, his shoulder ached every time he did the tough guy move. He spoke up again. "My turn."

Before he could do anything, the mob ran away shouting. "He's a demon! A demon!" He smirked from within the helm and shouted back at them. "And don't come back!" He smiled as the armor started to chip away into a soft golden light until he was back in his robes again. His massaged his shoulder as the pain started to lessen.

"Now for those two. Hmmm..." He spoke to himself. He went back into his shack, grabbed a travel bag and stuffed some clothes along with a spare set of blue robes. He took out a small potion making set. "Won't make anything big but it'll do." he thought to himself and placed it into a bag. He opened up a chest. Inside there was a staff and a small dagger. He picked up the staff, eyed it and then put it back in the chest and took out the small dagger. He grabbed a few potions from on top the drawer, took a swig of one before placing them in his bag then went outside, closed the door to his house and locked it.

He started to travel in the direction of where the two strangers had ran to. He thought about finding Shamiil. He liked shamiil and the guy was a capable wizard, even though a mystic. But Shamiil had a way of getting way over his head. "Well..." he thought to himself, patting the scroll that rested next to his chest. "Wherever they're going. Atleast they're going my way..." He then strolled towards the town exit, humming a drinker's tune.

Picking up pace Syrus ran with such velocity that the air hit his face with a sharp piercing blow after blow, it was after a severe cut to the wrist from his forced grip on the hooded woman’s hand that he stopped. Stooping down low to indulge himself in the cut and to analysis its depth; Syrus realised that the noises of the mob were louder but going in a different direction.

Turning to the hooded figure now standing next to him Syrus decided that they should keep walking and setting the pace forwards to the outskirts she followed suit. Syrus plan was to head for the woods of Polkaria, he knew the woods were inhabited by a dangerous race of Woodelves but considered the other direction was into Kerkan territory this seemed a much safer option; at least the Woodelves gave edge to reason. Between Boarder watch and the forest was a small plain consisting of sand dunes, always surprising when it soon turned into a thick forest abundant in green. Syrus on his travels of the world had come across many foul creatures but he had also come across many decent ones. One foul creature was the Liquwanga, a cruel and powerful beast, luckily there were only 3 of these known to exist; unfortunately they all existed in the dune.

It had been on his first journey across the dunes where Syrus had encountered one of these evil creatures attacking some survival extremists camping out in the dunes. Syrus managed to hold them off and to save the extremists through his knowledge on their weakness; learnt through his readings in the many university visits. There weakness was fire…

The importance of this thought is that it was the same extremists now in view as the two hooded silhouettes walked across the dunes; allowing the sand to slice into their clothes. They would camp here until daybreak and decide a plan on how to encounter the man with the parchment.

On entry Syrus gave out a warm embrace with his arms stretched out, dropping them slowly and grasping his hood he removed it to show his face.

“Hello boys” Syrus exchanged a cheeky grin with two very odd looking Humes as he said this.

Syrus face now became visable; long dark waving hair and a handsome but rigid face complexion. They all got up to shake his hand and started offering him and his “friend” as they called the hooded character warm seats and drink. It was amazing that what once was a small little tent was now a still small but very strong and sturdy looking hut. Taking his invitation to sit down and beckoning the girl to follow suit he picked up his drink and sipped it slowly allowing the other two to indulge in conversation about there adventures since last encounter.

Glancing carelessly down at the crumpled newspaper Syrus; who had completely turned off to the outside conversation conjured himself a chair, shoved his face into the newspaper and went into a deep read.

‘Last night Colt Archer the infamous 2nd in command of the E.B.U attacked and won the state of Invaining. Invaining is said to have put up a strong fight but caved in on the arrival of Colt Archer. It is unknown why Colt Archer would want to seek control of the state in mention as it Is currently in a state of depression.

Colt Archer was recently raised in rank to Levien’s so called Honour Guard. The dreaded unit which Colt Archer now leads is Leviens iron fist of regiments. Colt Archer has for a long time been wanted dead by the Edeaniun government both on the left and right wing spectrum, with many attempted hits been issued by both governments. The most famous being Arc Major Validus Necronics; were he sent two of his brotherhood to eliminate him. Failing miserably it just shows even our enemies could not destroy him.

Colt Archer is wanted for murder, treason, theft, invasion, violation of Ede rights, insight of hatred and assault on countless Elven women.

A reward has been stated for the capture of Colt Archer by High Elton Drakoni; dead or alive. Though we have been told to issue the announcement of an award I feel it is my personal right as a human being to also mention how unsafe it is.

Colt Archer is known for being very powerful in various forms of magic being able to communicate with the winds and therefore making surprise attacks easily countered. He is also a very unmerciful soldier taking a huge passion towards killing any who oppose him and his leader Levien.

Levien is known to… ( continued on page 3 )

Syrus put down the paper and sat quietly. It had been along time since he had seen his twin brother Colt. A very long time indeed… Many thoughts were now rushing through Syrus along with a continuous rampage of multiple emotions colliding in a full scale war in his head. He hated but at the same time loved his brother, they had never fallen out but at the same time they had never been alike. Syrus however knowing of the terrible deeds that Colt had caused in these recent years was unsure no of how to feel. He knew he would one day face his brother on the battlefield but whether he would be able to muster the strength to deliver the final blow; that is in the situation Syrus was in that position, if he could really deliver it.

Syrus stood up and ignoring the others started playing with his fingers deciding it best not to think of what he would do until he finally got to that situation.

Looking back up to the men he noticed how they had so drastically changed since he last met them. On first encounters they had been both very skinny long scruffy haired humans with rags for clothes, now they both had tied hair back and strong physiques along with a sword between them. It was obvious they had made an effort to train to protect themselves.

“So who is the quiet friend of yours?” inquired the first man named Robin; the second man named Christ nodding in curiosity.

“Well I am not sure…what is your name?” questioned Syrus with a genuine tone….

Following the man and finally getting into the sands outside of town, Myou looked around. She did see the hut and all.. But did feel out of place. After being let to sit down and such, Myou watched the man sit and begin to converse and then read what looked to that of a newspaper. She stood the whole time, looking around and moving the scarf to get rid of half the amount of sand that was resting on it and her hood. Standing near the door as she kept looking out.

Myou felt a tad cramped... but that was natural for her. But came back to her senses when she was addressed.

Looking over to see the man look up to her, realizing that she was right for assuming he was indeed elven, and shifted position... She was now being fully watched and it bugged her.. "My... Myou... Myou Hiryuu... and yours?" She looked over at the dark haired elf once more. He really did have nice eyes..

As she moved once more.. Myou's talons clicked on the floor and when looking down to see if she had scratched the floor with them, since they were so sharp, Some of her silver locks of long hair leaked out from their confines under the hood. She quickly moved a clawed hand up to retrieve them. Showing the exact colouring of her body. She was a pale peach with brilliant emerald green and silverish scales. Some glistened in the light.. others looked like they each had intricate detail to them.

She quickly moved her hand back under the cloak and stood so that her true form couldn't be seen all that well.. Last time a human saw her scales and such... they tried to cage her.. Didn't work well... A shattered cage and a fried corpse was all that was left from that incident.. that and her back and wings were nearly crippled...

"And she'll buy you a bottle of brandy." Regas continued to sing as he exited the town limits. He was in the open plains now but the dunes and the forests loomed overhead. He was aware of the dangers of the dunes but knew a well aimed fireball, either as a distraction or as a weapon would prove useful, but it was the forest he really hated. The relationship between the wood elves and Wizards had been spotty at best. The wizards regarded the wood elves as primitives for their superstitions and stubbornness in not willing to be open minded in the pursuit of knowledge. The wood elves hated The Wizards for numerous and specific reasons. They viewed the conjuerers and summoners as satanics for the beasts they bring into this plane. They viewed the illusionists as the worst of liars and tricsters. They viewed the Alchemists as manipulators, not pleased with what nature had to offer on its own but had to manipulate it to their own whims. They viewed the Battlemages as trained attack dogs taught only how to kill. They viewed the Mystics as Lunatics. But Regas smiled and remembered that everyone viewed the Mystics as lunatics so he had something in common with the Wood Elves.

However it wasn't all bad he remembered. The Wood Elves and the Wizards were able to come to some form of Truce. Wizards needed to travel from their towers and schools and the Wood Elves would allow wizards safe passage they offered to others in the Woods, so long as the wizards stayed on the roads and didn't take anything from the forests.

However he realized that the closest road that led through the forest was several miles in another direction and traveling at night was only asking for trouble. He would be better off traveling during the day time.

He spotted a hut on the outskirts, near the dunes but far enough that what lie within the dunes won't attack. He hoped they would have a place to sleep but more importantly, that they would have something to drink. He pulled the hood from his head and brushed back his scruffy hair with his hands and headed towards the hut.

He opened the door to find the sturdy hut had only a few people in it. Two people were standing over two robed figures eying one of them. He didn't pay them much attention when he eyed a beautiful woman sitting at the far end of the rumor. She was dressed in a blue dress and let her blond curls flow freely and was sipping a cup of ale. She sat with two robed figures both of whom had their heads bent down and the hoods kept their faces from being seen. His eyes followed the womans' curves and stopped briefly at the tattoo on her hand, he couldn't see all of it, but he recognized the worm going through the eye sockets of a skull.

He turned from the woman who wasn't paying attention to the small group and shouted. "Oy! What's a fella got to do to get a drink around here!?" The two men that were standing started at him for a minute until one of them left to tend to him. "I'll have a pitcher of ale." he told the man who then left to get him a pitcher. He placed his hands into the folds of his robes and sat down looking at the blond woman who had set down her drink and was staring at him cockeyed and with a crooked smile. He smiled and nodded in return and she smirked and returned to her drink.

After a few minutes the man came with a pitcher and Regas stood up and took his hands from his robes, he had the gold in his left and and kept his right hand closed. He gave the gold to the man and took the pitcher with his left hand and with his right, made a motion above the pitcher that the man took as a rude wave. He took his pay and went back to the group.

With his pitcher, Regas tried to act suave and strolled up to the blond woman who was staring at him. However it soon turned to disaster as he tripped on a chair and tossed the pitcher into the air, its contents landing all over the woman and her two companions. The woman shrieked as Regas stood up and walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey baby, don't worry, if you want, you can take off those wet clothes and slip into some dry ones. My dry robes for instance."

The woman's face turned to a mask of anger. "You've just made the biggest and last mistake of your life." She snapped her fingers. Nothing happened. She became flustered and snapped her fingers again. Still nothing happened. Regas poked one of the robed figures who then fell over to the side. The other one fell forward and slumped down on the table head first.

"Oh I hate it when that happens." Regas whispered in her ear. "I ordered a pitcher of ale for both of us, but instead someone went and gave me a dispelling potion capable of canceling reanimation and binding spells. I should have noticed that. Your tattoo however I noticed. Not many people go around flaunting that kind of thing, being a necromancer. You should be more careful who notices that too. It might be legal to be one in these parts, but it's not exactly smart to go about flaunting it" Regas then kissed her on the cheek.

The woman stood up and started breathing heavily. She stared wide eyed at Regas and tried to say something but couldn't. She turned and stomped her way to the door. She turned to him again and he told her "Tell Jamseh I said hi." She turned and left and slammed the door.

The room became dead silent. Regas turned to one of her companions that was slumped on the table. He sniffed the area close to him and pulled his face back, trying not to vomit. He shouted at the door "YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST PICKED SOME FRESHER COMPANIONS!" He noticed that her drink was half full. He picked it up and finished it with a quick gulp and looked at the others who were staring at him and simply said "What?"