All things as it was,
And all things they were.
Floating in the void.
The elder eye Unblinking.

"As it shall be, Creator. All petals will wilt and the fruit be bitten. The seeds passed. One Cycle ends as a New Chapter Begins. A New Book to be written by whom?"

So with this did X leave the presence of the One to rejoin the other Gods. A champion perhaps he would need, one to gather up the secrets of the universe and return them to him. For surely the Fallen will attempt to use knowledge once more to kill the Gods. As a pawn to the forces which were. He had always suspected they existed, the whispers of the unmade, the horrors which should not be. They were written in his book, and upon the house at the Edge, dead elders wait dreaming. The black moths have found his book and already began their exploration into its secrets. The most interesting of all the forbidden books... But for now he shall wait for a worthy prayer, a mortal who would devote themselves to learning the secrets and keeping the mysteries of the universe.

---

"Is that all there is?" A ravenous voice rang out.

A massacre remained of the small town, as the warm bodies littered the streets. Faces frozen in terror and shock, fleeing in panic. Necks slashed, bloody bodies bore brutal bruises and flesh cut to bleed out. Nothing was spared, no mercy was given: Men, Women, Children, and Animals. Everything joined the blood bath as their corpses soaked the wet earth. Unsettling, but peaceful as the quiet red death. And so it was, like a plague, moving from Hamlet to Village, the picturesque horror as stones were wet with blood. Only to be dried by the time a traveler could report the sudden destruction of an entire town. And by that time, another settlement was offered to Sekaulla.

Atop his pile of bodies, the guardsmen and local magistrate among them, did Dyleon sit upon the macabre seat. He licked the blood off his lips, the lack of a manic smile or clear evidence of insanity made the act that much more unsettling as the man just slaughtered the entire town without a second thought. No, his madness was devotion, a tribute to his Goddess, a field of fallen corpses and the blood tithe to follow.

"For you Sekaulla. My Goddess, my love..." Dyleon kneel before his companion, a large bloody dire wolf. To which from Dearg he received a few encouraging licks to his blood-covered face. A taste of tang and salt, bathed in the blood of many a fallen.

The blood covered the warrior's body, his armor, his weapons, slick with the fluid of life as he soaked it in and exchanged old blood for new. Open wounds sealed with drying blood, flesh regeneration boosted by the ample about of blood-food available from the eradiation of this village. So the cycle would continue on, just as those mortals would place their offerings to gain the favour of the gods...

So too would Dyleon offer blood for his Goddess.

The scent of life and the pulse of beating hearts were foreign to these caves. The sounds so soft, reverberated through the surrounding earth to the ears of the dormant vampires. The strangeness awakened them, and with consciousness came hunger. Six cultists, six vampires, and six days of service they would give. Onyx wings and golden teeth they had, and the vampire sires descended over the wall and began their lustful frenzy of turning and death. Many new vampires were made and many freshly dead corpses lie in waiting for Darko's touch. As Darko left for the temple, Sekaula waved her hands over the pool, weaving her magic over the fallen, calling to the newly bitten.

The village was hers and Death's. "Poor weak and helpless X." Sekaula mocked and laughed. "Your secrets are irrelevant, for no matter what you see, in blood there will always be my power." Sekaula now had a vampire army, fed and capable to expanding itself like a plague. She grinned to herself in the darkness of hell. "Ah but my vampires drank so much blood. I too am thirsty." She reached into the blood pool, her hand passing through the bottom of the basin as if into another plane.

"Dyleon, my champion..." The dire wolf's eyes lit up as it served as a medium to the goddess.

Sekaula slowly withdrew her hand from the pool, and in it she held a still beating heart, dripping with blood. "Your offering pleases me, and I shall reward you." Truly, her champion gave her great glory and pride, and blood, and he would never truly die, since she had his heart forever. The goddess lifted Dyleon's heart in front of her lips, then slowly, delicately, she stuck out her long tongue and licked a wet trail up its side, intending what it would do to him.

"You are unmatched in my favor, werewolf. I will bless you with more blood to shed in my name. To the west, the temple of the god of secrets offends me. I will send you an army of vampires to command. Take them, and destroy the fools who do not know my wrath. I will see X punished for his arrogance."

Darko standing and waiting for his brother to show his face felt the vampires awaken and the village torn asunder. He raised his book from his side and looked for the spell he had for rolling darkness. And when he found it he was interrupted by His champion the The scream rose. "My lord. The vampires are moving. My Banshees are ready and waiting. What is it you wish of us." Darko looked at her. "The village to the south. Bring it to rubble with your screams then I want you to head here. There is a sacred tomb to two days away from it. Go in and bring me the Tombs of Darkness and Light. I wish to have it. Bring it to me." She bowed and vanished away and he cast the spell of rolling darkness casting over the coven of vampires moving toward their commander. Darko smiled and walked over to the dead soldier and waved his hands over his body pulling up the blood and formed a floating mirror and darko then waved his hand in front of it and his cowl showed in the blood pool in the underworld. "Hahaha well done Blood goddess. Well done.

The seas of red. The rivers of red.
The pools of red. The skies of red.
The world shall be bathed in blood.
Drowned in it. Grim omens. Grim Tales.

A shiver of excitement, a rush at her touch. A heart beating faster in her palm, each palpitation a murmur of her praises. Dripping of the blood tithe, it was removed from the life-giving blood pool it remained in. Arresting itself as it became starved of its own fluids, screaming out as it pumped itself empty from its chambers. It could not die in her hands, no, she would never let it die, its owner was far too useful and devoted. His reward was this, a moment of love and attention for his goddess, his heart pulled from the pool at last. And still beating, ever beating in her palm as tasted the flesh. A twisted kiss worthy of the goddess of blood, a reward which Dyleon would kill for... and die for.

A small gasp escaped his lips, the corners licked clean of blood by his companion. Dyleon's heart was still tied to him, and everything she did upon it he could feel. He was at her mercy, toyed by her to the brink and released with a kiss. His heart raced for her, and because of her, his bloodlust was fueled by her, and perhaps she became his obsession because of his bloodlust. Which came first perhaps only X could ever speak in truth, yet it mattered not for the only truth there was, was those truth written in blood. So the Goddess shall have her wish fulfilled.

"Then I will make Blood wash Ink!" Dyleon panted out, whimpering and knelt before Dearg. Oh she tormented him so, his heart removed from the preserving pool. But in his mind, it was his reward, the torment meant that she was pleased with his performance, that she had not forgotten him or his heart. She was his, and his alone, no other follower would take his place and have their heart held by her as such. No vampire, cultist or whatever else dared to call her their goddess would ever match his undying love for her. She gave him purpose for being, a reason to live, to serve her. Unlike his former God who cast him out as an exile amongst his former allies.

"Sekaulla, My Goddess, your Servant goes to please you..." He uttered his promises, clutching his chest and climbing atop his dire wolf. "Blood, for the Blood Goddess!" And with that, the bloody pair left behind the eradicated village, leaving nothing more than trial of blood, rotting corpses, and a set of bloody paw prints to the west.

darkos gaze is piercing and dark as he gazes through his mirror at the Blood goddess. "Champions must meet one way or another the gods they serve." Darkos voice powerful and commanding. "Your champions path brings him to the Dark door by the back way. Have him travel there. Bring him to the Underworld." Darko smiled under his cowl "I feel a Champion worthy of my blessing." Darko knew this champion was somewhere. And needed to be found. Darko seemed to have vanished in the pool as the blood spilled back onto the dead guard. Darko summoned his of of his greatest of warriors.

a boney hand busted from the ground with armor like it was frozen for centuries. Climbing up out of the ground and a dog frozen and decayed climbed out next to him. They bowed before darkos feet and looked up the dog snarling and the non warrior looked up and in the forbidden tongue he spoke. "What is your orders my Dark Lord." Darko looked at him and his pet and smiled "Head to the furthest corners following the smell of the corpses here. A paticular smell radiates off them...follow it and report back to me"

Sekaula's laughter was a frightening sound indeed. It rippled the pool of blood as she swirled around it, causing the images to fade and was the last sound heard by anyone listening on the other side. "Darko. This will be a slaughter worthy of my presence. I will leech the blood from the soil and make it fall from the sky upon our warriors. Then they will know I am near." With that, the goddess herself began to melt, transforming back into rushing liquid that ran into the cracks and up walls most unnaturally. She enjoyed watching.

The southern town could not have been prepared for the wrath of two gods that fell upon them. Vampires and undead horrors began attacking under cover of divine darkness, lead by Sekaula's ever-thirsty werewolf champion atop his fearsome steed. As the bodies began to fall, a gentle rumble rolled in the clouds above. If anyone had been able to see it, the rain was red.

The tomes of darkness and light were in the temple of X. Dyleon would know the priests of the Keeper would be his targets.

Eternity was even longer when you spent it languishing.

In the dark of night, nothing moved inside the abandoned stone halls of a relic castle on a hill. The whole area had fallen to woodlands, and here, sitting on a cold stone throne, Chakan tried to sleep. She waited, brooding, as time ticked by, refusing to let go of her hatred. She had been tricked by the god of death, and could do nothing about it. Of course she refused to believe any fault had been hers. Still, brooding and refusing him gained her nothing. She had to serve him, but she'd sooner kill Darko if she could.

Dust had gathered all around her, her armor tarnished but still quite effective. Would there never be company that could bear her undead countenance?

A dark voice echoed those halls as if a spectre in the dark the death shroud heard the dark lords wish and appeared before the Immortal. "He hath need for you Immortal. And a gift in return for your services the underworld awaits your arrival." With that he vanished Like a ghost in the dark. The words echoing through out the empty halls.

Chakan lifted her head, a blue unreal light growing in her skull's eye sockets. Had the voice been true, or had it only been a delusion cast by her unending fantasies of reaching eternal rest? "Who speaks?" She asked in a dry, crackling voice, yet she knew the answer. It was indeed a messenger of the dark lord. If it was indeed a true offer, and not some sadistic tease, she might lay down her pride. Not even that would stop her from accepting the peace of death. How desperate was she? How long had it been? Chakan gripped the arm of the throne with her clawed hand in irritation. How she hated to come to him, but of all offers to make, all words she could hear, this one she could not resist. Her old bones stirred and she stood from her seat. "You have my attention." She began, and picked up her swords. Slowly, Chakan began to walk. She'd leave the decrepit castle and make her way toward one of Darko's sealed portals to the underworld. No matter what hydra or wraith stood guard, she would furiously dispatch it.

@Thantos
Hal knew the place that Darko wished to meet just as all the gods did. It was a place within the mortal realm, but also allowed the presence of the deities. It is the one place that the gods use to converse with each other from when they were forbidden to enter each other’s realms. The Grand Creator allowed it, and as such selected guardians to watch over it lest any mortal find it and exploit it. This place was also special as it required physical travel to get there rather than they be able to just enter the in between realm.

“Very well,” Hal announced making his way to an arch way leading out of the council room. “Darko wishes a meeting with me, and I must go alone. This meeting shall take place at Grand Table… as such I shall be gone for a short while.” Hal paused a moment as he stretched out his hand and summoned his transport, a Griffin alighted outside the stone arch doorway beautifully colored with a light brownish red body and wings and white feathers for its mane and front ankles. “Maybe, just maybe we may come to an agreement and come to a cessation of his shadows and blood before the true enemy X spoke of makes his move.” With that Hal left the heavens to the base of the Sacred Mountain and began his assent to the top.

This mountain was special in many was as it was the meeting place of the gods, the focus point of the monks of the Grand Creator, and could overlook a vast majority or the mortal realm. On his way up the mountain Hal felt a two dark and foreboding forces, one he knew to be the armies and forces of Darko, but the other was something new. Looking out across the mortal land the he could see Hal was able to catch sight of some of Darko’s armies attacking villages and towns, and a small village near the plagued Forest was being terrorized by a group of vampires. Seeing this displeased Hal and made his heart sink.
“I guess there is no change of heart for some.” He said with a sad sigh and a turn of his head. “I am afraid this will not be a conversation Darko will enjoy.” Hal continued up the mountain finally reaching the top to find Darko already there.
“I am here.” Hal announced. “What is it you wish to-“ It was then that Hal noticed the dead guardian that lay within the meeting place. “What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself quickly!” Hal was not pleased when he saw Darko’s forces attacking the innocent while he wanted to discuss a parley, but to see a guardian of the Grand Creator lying dead with Darko present and no context made Hal jump to the darkest of conclusions.

@Master Crim Darko turned to Hal "Stay your blade Brother. I didn't do this." he gestured to the dead guard. "Someone or something took these guards by surprise and in the midst of preparing for combat a massacre took place. My scythes blade wouldn't leave a mark such as this. You of all the gods should know the scar my blade leaves." He turned to the other dead guardians "I have been standing here questioning and questioning what weapon could of left these marks it's like the flesh was scorched by lightning but the only weapon I know of to do this is locked away in the river of Rage in the underworld." He opened the note and looked at Hal "the guard handed me this before he died. It is in the Tongue of the dark ones. And none of my dark brothers or sisters would ever attack a well trained Grand Creator soldier. Specially on this land." Darko looked at Hal and then at the note "it reads, Maltanlo brosh nija Hal astrin Darko, My Vengeance has only started Hal and Darko, Het fros Bril antre freu alta
It has only begun and I will make you suffer." He looked up from the note and back to Hal. "I believe whom ever killed these guards knew that we would more than likely meet here.

A flutter of fate.
Flitting moths on White wings,
Forbidden are the Black books,
Written by the Grey Dust.

Upon the sleeve of his robe, it landed. Having flapped its paper-like wings, traveled far from nowhere and everywhere, the delicate white moth appeared. An omen recognized by the learned ones, and most certainly by the Order which bears its namesake. The question becomes, would Darius Gordock be familiar with the chosen familiar of the Lord of Whispers? Or would he like so many others uncouth and ignorant, brush it off or crush it into oblivion. The fate of the moth of course, would reflect the fate of the one who it chose.

Yet should the mage leave it be, and perhaps take notice of the presence of the moth, it would take wing once more and seem to encircle his head before flying ahead of him. Through the maze of reality and other falsehoods it would guide him, but only if his mind was sharp as the moth flitted in and out of this plane with every flutter. A test was it? To follow the white moth which blinked through the dimensions as it flew, only the worthy would become a champion after all. One chosen to inherit the secrets of everything not by divine favour, but self-merit.

And so it flew, slipping between the veil, phasing between until they would arrive at the edge of a black gate where it would land at last. Floating in the ever void, directionless, caught in the realm between the realms as X extended the gap between. Should the mage have kept up with the insect, then he would be sense the presence of divinity.

"Darius Gordock." A faceless form seemed to rise from the fabric of the realm. While the Creator forbade the gods upon earth, and the mortals in the realms of the gods, there was no such restriction in the realms in-between. A secret loophole one could suggest, as X revealed himself to the mage. "What secret do you seek?"

A secret meeting was no so secret. Between brothers, but in the between was X. Or at least as the void morphed to reflect the two gods upon the old grounds discussing amongst themselves. Darius should know of these other gods perhaps, and yet they would be unable to know of the scrying, although perhaps they should know that X was most likely privy to their conversation either by his books or his hidden presence. All the same, Darius should be careful when dealing with the Lord of Whispers, as talking to one who has seen the answers before posing the question merely poses the illusion of choice does it not? Would Darius remember any of this? Perhaps. Perhaps not. It depends on his answer. It could go... either way.

---

"Gifts from my Goddess..." Dyleon smiled, covered in the blood of innocents Slaughtered. The blood rain fell upon his form, cleansing him of unblooded flesh. Like a dark baptism, he was anointed by his Goddess, in the blood of her enemies. There would be blood, more blood and more blood, a field of endless carnage. The death count was so little compared to the gallons of blood drenched upon their combined armies. His black hair turned red, yet never stiffened from the drying by the washing of fresh blood over his body. What leathers he wore soaked itself and what skin he bared drank the ichor into his veins.

The wounds healed up, fed by the sanguine caress as Dyleon pulled the arrows out of his chest, ripping out the red feathers and shafts. He had no heart, those fools aimed true, yet would never kill him in such a way. A dozen arrows dropped to the stained earth. Three swords clattered as with a grunt the champion of blood pulled them from his side and arms. An Axe was driven into the mud, dislodged from his back. For all they did to him, nothing compared to the devotion he had for her. They could piercing him with thousands upon thousands of arrows, hack his limbs off his body, grind his bones and place his head upon a pike... But leave him his heart, in her hands where it could beat... he would still be alive and pull himself back together again for her...

@The Grey Dust the old mage took notice of the moth and smiled and pulled out a well made pipe and brought his finger up to the tip and looked like he sprinkled some thing in it and it lit up and he puffed it. "Mmmm he whom dwells within vast amounts of knowledge should know that not even a god can escape my eye X. Your moths give you away and your scribes speak highly of you." He puffed his pipe more even when the God appeared. "X my lord of knowledge and protector of secrets what is it that I honor this Great pleasure of having you here before me." Then as he made poetic gesture of great respect toward X his apprentice, a young but fair lass ran up and he looked over at her and spoke calmly "What has you troubled you child." She looked at him. "The cursed werewolf has shown up. He is attacking the temple." Darius stood up strait and used a arcane art to see the werewolf taking arrows and breaking them. "The fool attacking a great temple as this. "X if you grant me the knowledge and power to access your books and more I can defeat this monster and protect your temple I offer you my staff and power and my will to be your champion" Darius words were powerful indeed and with out uttering a magic word he vanished in a bolt of lighting and stood atop the steps of the temple. And he raised his hand and hurtled a ball of pure magic and blasted the crawling monsters back. "Back you vile beasts. Go back to your master." He then spotted the werewolf and he slammed his staff down and a shock wave of energy shot forward and blasted back more of the Dark army. "Stand your ground and fight, fight to the last man." He them aimed his staff and a fireball launched and exploded near the werewolf

The Old Hawke himself appeared. An Archmage not empowered by divine will, he nonetheless was nearly as powerful as Darius Gordock, Champion of Tyrwin. Old Hawke led his apprentices and former apprentices, Logan the Blue, Marius the Red, Draven the Green, and Parda the Wise. Four great wizards led by The Old Hawke, a wizard of extremely great power defended the temple. In came the great hero, wielding the mighty sword Cockburn, which cleaved creatures in two.

Unworthy.
Darius Gordock.
A cruel judgment passed.
A path forseen, and now accepted.
Leaving before being allowed to do so.
Rushing into action yet be so blind to truth.
No champion of X would be so deaf to the question.
And none should be so mute as to leave it unanswered.
But in this clash, perhaps a worthy keeper would arise.
And to this keeper, the secrets beyond mere arcana given.

Their prayers muttered, uttered upon quivering lips. The acolytes were in fear, in fear of the armies of death and blood which could cut through them like scissors upon paper. The elders merely smiled, accepting of their fate, foreseen by their patron god certainly. X was not the most caring of gods, he had no edicts or mandates for his followers, no doctrine to guide them by. He did not seek worship, nor did he admonish it. His followers came to him on their own, enticed by the secrets and mysticism of knowledge. What few mortals he bestows a rare gift upon traded themselves to him, an exchange set at great cost. To be a follower of X was to serve under a god who cared not for the fragile life one had to live, but to devote oneself to keeping the secrets learned. So then should X will it, the apostles and priests, friar and all would take their secrets to the grave. And upon their more learned lips, prayers seeking silence in death beseeched X. Begging him to take their voices away from their spirits, as death claims them into the void.

Floating towards the old grounds where the gods once held court, a being strange, tethered to a lectern as it made its way across. To the mountain it would ascend, the domain of the gods silently guided by the whispers of X. A bookkeeper, a creature of twisted fantasy, deaf and blind and mute as it passed through into the chamber of the gods. An intruder perhaps, yet the guards would yield for this servitor of X as it spoke and borrowed the Voice of Darko's Death Cult Leader so far away as she grew mute. It was rare to see a bookkeeper outside of X's library, few were sent out to actively serve, this must be a rather special occasion.

"Darko. My Lord X requests you hold the advance of your forces from besieging his temple." Now the priestess was deaf, and finally blind as her senses were stolen her. A rather scary ability they had, to strip a mortal's senses. And should Darko foolishly attempt to destroy the bookkeeper, the senses stolen would be lost forever...

---

Magic? It matters not They too would bleed.

"Wizards bleed just as well as warriors." Dyleon commented as he leapt to the side of the fireblast before it hit. Crouching like a coiled wolf, waiting to pounce prey, his knee to the ground and his spear ready. His Dire Wolf companion was making short work of the defenders a few meters away, charging through the forest of weapons, rivers of blood and mountains of bodies. A bone-crushing bite was usually enough to dissuade them, rending claws to expose their flesh. Covered in arrows, cuts and blood was the great wolf. With the same bestial fury Dyleon grinned, fangs bared as the blood dripped from his chin from his face. The skies rained blood, the smell and taste of metal tang filled the air. The vampires in a fervor, the armies of death marching alongside them.

"With all that magic in your veins... What colour will you bleed?" With a sudden snap, the blood goddess's champion sprang forward, running towards the temple steps, spearhead lagging behind him as his long hair whipped around in the blood rain. An overwhelming attack would certainly be coming, the blood falling from the heavens above only made it easier for Dyleon as it drizzled against his skin to be absorbed and put to good use.

"Let's find out!"

@The Grey DustDarius looked up at Dyleon and raised his hand and Dyleon seemed to slow in mid air "a mistake attacking a Wizard and specially a servant of the god of Magic. My master makes me powerful, makes me stronger..." and it seemed like a vortex was swirling in his hand. "Makes me The Mage that stands here before you, you witless worm." With that the vortex shot forward and launched the wolf into the air with a powerful gust of wind and back down the steps. And after he did that he turned toward a couple of vampires and he spun his staff of power and created a tempera solar light that matches the sun and turned them to ash and he turned his attention back to the werewolf and aimed his staff of power and swung with great might and a blast of energy flew from the staff and blasted more of the dark forces.

Darko looked at the Creature "as long as the books of darkness and light are brought here before this table so we may come up with a plan to fight the blight that plagues the earth. And no. X. Not my blight. The blight that killed the guardians..."Darko looked at Hal. "My forces are merely there to collect the books and I only sent one of my generals. The vampires on the other hand are that of The goddess of blood."

"By my honor I will enforce the edicts of war!! The Kingdoms beneath the gods stand against you, Canine Monster!" Murdoc Godwynne challenged. He charged the beast with the full force of his fury. His sword, the majestic Cockburn which slew the Raven King during a mysterious mythological time, shined ethereally with the force of ten Suns, only capable of doing harm to someone of a great depth of evil. Even someone with great wickedness wouldn't see it. The Wolf, however fit the criteria of the Sword's definition of Evil, even if the beast were a mere wolf looking for it's lunch. Symbolically, the wolf was it's own species, the wolf. Adding to that symbolic definition of evil, the Wolf was enormous AND also a wolf, embellishment not required. The wolf was also making haste to shed blood. These three facts alone were enough reason for the Cockburn to shine in it's eyes very painfully if the gleam of the sword flashed across it's face.

Murdoc had more stamina than one hundred men in their Prime. His sword gleamed as he swung it in appropriately war like gestures, attempting to flash the sword across it's face enough times that it's fur would catch fire. As if the Sun shined too bright on the Canine Monster. Squire Geoffrey, his current Squire, a twenty year old man, had muscles which bulged in tight ripples strong enough for him to tear men in some leather armors apart during combat. This Squire took a bow that was made of metal, and he pulled it with little effort, aiming a primitive grenade attached to the arrow bodkin at the creature. The alchemical liquids could tell the difference from the make up of hair, living organic material and dead organic material, enough not to harm the books, but it could leave severe burns on the skin or body tissue of any living organism.

Darko felt the loss of life in a vast amount coming from the temple of X and sighed. If I stop this onslaught. I require both of those great tombs so that the gods of darkness and light may work together to prevent the imposing threat. I have translated this note given to me from a dead guard. I request that it be put in a safe place among the creatures of secrets. This unknown enemy. If my senses have not failed me is moving. And I know your master X knows whom it is." Darko summoned his scythe and stepped outside and swung the mighty blade and tore open a portal to the battle field and looked at Hal. "Brother. Shall we once again work together or remain enemies. After I stop this onslaught. I will call out and request a audience with our father. The Grand Creator. He should know in fact he will know the reason of our questioning and I will perhaps request a audience with my Lord od Destruction maybe he can provide some form of aid."

Darkos presence was felt among the undead and retreated from his gaze. They knew their lord had called them back to the underworld.

Darko then summoned up a blood mirror. "SEKUALLA!" His voice rippled in the blood pool a voice that made him respected among the dark council. "Cease your attack for now and bring your champion to the underworld at once. My champion is on her way and I wish to hold council with the the two blood thirsty warriors as soon as I return." He gaze dark and cruel. But fair and reasonable.

Darko then faded out of the blood pool and looked at Hal and through that cowl a smile appeared on Darkos rotten face. A smile that hasn't been there since Hal and Darko worked together.

Darko then Gazed up into the heavens above and inhaled. "GRAND CREATOR. I, Ner'zhul, the Lord of The Underworld request a audience with you!" He stared up at the sky and waited for a response from The Grand Creator@Master Crim

By war scattered.
For pieces read.
By war gathered.
Peace for the dead.

Darko should not have been so naïve to believe that X had not known the who, the what and where, even the why was not beyond him. No secret of the universe was beyond his knowledge, the truest omniscience in existence was between Him and the Creator. Yet there were things beyond this universe, forces which the who dared tamper with. Like mortals who dealt with the infernal and divine, fools who knew not that they knew not what they knew. And so Darko's suggestion was completely asinine, why should one who knows more listen to the one who knows less? Even in the temples of X as bloody as they stand now, is its not the blind few who lead the many, but rather the all-knowing who leads the blind many.

"My Lord X knows all. Every outcome he has foreseen, with understanding beyond you own, Death God. For this reason I am here, to collect that which you give freely. Even now he oversees us from his realm between. The script already written into my book long before you had read the message. And while this humble servant knows not what it means, My Lord X has sent me here to bear the message to the Death God as I have done." The Bookkeeper showed no fear in speaking freely to Darko, for here it represented the mouthpiece of X.

Turning now to Hal, the Bookkeeper rotated slowly to face the Lion-God. "Lord Hal-Reftar, Lion Heart of Champions, I bear a message for you as well from my Lord. Per his request, increase your sentries around the gate. That is all he has given me to say, neither which gate nor a reason why. I trust that you will understand and execute with the same faith I have..."

---

Where did they go?
The dead afraid of dying?
Pathetic worms.
Rot in hell.

His recovery was easy, a gust of wind did nothing but strengthen his resolve. "Eight against Three, I like those odds..." Dyleon's smirk beneath his hood was slightly troubling. Darko's forces just left, his vampire allies were just incinerated, and now there were six mages and two warriors set against him, and the temple steps. No sane man would believe the odds were in his favour should they consider the high possibility of death. Oh wait, they couldn't kill him. Hence... Why the odds were in his favour.

His attention turned away from the mages for the moment who, had no honor in fighting toe to toe with him. Even in his human form, they exerted pressure from afar. The one which held the sword annoyed him, yet Dearg was soaked in blood, so deep that fur would never catch flame from the knight's sword, nor would his blade offer much inhibition given the fact that Dearg could hunt his prey by Scent. Blood drove them both into a frenzy, and now they stood in a field of blood.

Murdoc's companion however, was not so lucky. For you see, Dyleon had caught his scent and eyed him like a child gazing upon candy. A young squire, with a muscle-bound body surely the girls would swoon over. "I like the look of that one. His blood builds his body well... But mine better." And so with a target committed, Dyleon took to another charge, running almost upon all fours with speeds surpass the limits of the human body as the blood rushed out behind him as he ran at Geoffrey. There would be no time for the boy to react properly, Dearg was already a moving target, making way to the center of the temple as the last of the living bleed out making it hard to pin down the Dire Wolf.

A stab to the heart.
Through his stomach.
Impaling the throat.
Surprised eyes.

"Seven Now." Dyleon remarked as he pulled his spear out of the squire. A cruel visceral execution, supplemented by the man licking the bloody gushing out of Geoffrey's neck hole. Lapping it up with roots to his canine qualities before draining the warm body of the rest of its blood into Dyleon's own. Filling up with the blood of his fallen adversary, siphoning the strength of his enemies by the glory of blood.

Darko looked at the bookkeeper. "Then you know of the books I seek. Long ago Hal and I wrote these books. And gave them to X long before your creation. These books hold a lot of knowledge that we had set aside for later use. We need them now. These books were in trusted to X and it holds something that is with my vast knowledge a location I have long forgotten that I created. I need it." He gazed at the creature. He felt more death and summoned The Death shroud "bring that champion to the underworld." The Death Shroud nodded and bowed as it vanished.

Malantious appeared at Xs temple and Floated over to the werewolf. "The Dark lord requests you cease this attack Dyleon. He needs something in this temple and he requests you stop. The death isn't needed." The Wraith stood there his cloak flowing against the wind and his eyes burned like a infernal fire. He stood with a bit of a bend and the didn't cast a shadow. The dark creature stood between the werewolf and the temple. "If I have to champion of blood I will fight you." He stared unblinking. Face less his voice like echos in a dark cave. This creature was heard of. A champion of the gods turned current and twisted. He was a champion of great speed and agility. No a general of the underworld and extremely dangerous.