[img]http://leepapa.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/chess.jpg[/img]

The Game begins.
Each Piece moving into position.
The cosmic titans and their pawns.
Behold the Last Game to end all others.

"Our business is done Darko. I am but a messenger. Seek my Lord for further dealings." Curt and abrupt doing what it was tasked to do. Deliver the requests from X, who prefer not to descend down from the higher planes into the mortal realms, even before the wars. Keen to observe the effects, yet never to be directly involved with them. Long since had X retired into his libraries, endless volumes of pages and lore, wisdom and the writings of every event which went on in the universe. At its core worked the 42 Elders,  Bookkeepers which observe all which is known over all of existence and recorded them in ever growing numbers of analects. There in his Secret Sanctum the past, present and future histories converged, with the infinite knowledge of everything at one's disposal. And yet, to find one piece of information was to hunt through an endless sea of information for the smallest sliver. So it was the paradox, of how Knowledge obscures Knowledge, how information hides itself within itself. The way was secret, but the door unlocked, the books unguarded, but the information lost!

And suddenly, the besieged temple of the White Moths was set ablaze. The sacred Braziers of X burning with the pyres of text being incinerated. Secrets to forever remain hidden. Unread and offered to X as the smoke ascended. The Moths were devoted to protecting their secrets, as they would destroy their own temples than risk it fall.

"Our temple chapter is to be destroyed. Our Order will return to the Grand Temple. We are done here, all information inside shall be put to the flames and purged of any sensitive information. Great warriors and Magi, we of the White Moth Thank you and invite you to join amongst our numbers." The Head Keeper of the Temple explain the actions his brothers and sisters took as he emerged from the burning building followed by several others clad in white robes. "It is time we leave, by the will of X, there is something greater which calls to our Lord's attention..."

---

Death was nothing.
Blood gave life.
A blood offering.

Dearg was sustaining far too much damage to continue. The Whisper of the Goddess was clear, like a subtle piercing of the mind, stabbing clarity. A lover's kiss juxtaposed by a mother's reassurance and general's orders. Faith unwavering, devotion without end, Dyleon grinned as the words without words formed within his mind. She was pleased with his tribute, yet demanded one more offering...

"Ghost of [s]Sparta[/s] the Dark Lord, you mock your god. Death needs not to follow bloodshed like a dog licking at my heels. Keep them alive, they will bled more for my Goddess. She claims what is hers to begin with!" His calm demeanor was now cast away, his fervor increase as his voice barked, no Howled at the Shade. "I have no interest in fighting the dead, nor a messenger who is but a shadow of what he once was. Float back to Hell and deliver this message to your God. May he learn that he holds no control over me..." A sudden madness reigned, as he chuckled to himself every pore of his body opening and shedding the absorbed blood. Channeling it to Dearg who, would soon die from the assault. A fresh infusion to regenerate the flesh, Dyleon getting weaker as his laughter became manic, his flesh became blood, bone became blood and from blood became flesh upon the dire wolf. 

"Go Dearg, wait for me at the place we met."

The wolf understood, fleeing from the spellslingers in a frenzy of overindulgence of blood. And once it was done, Dyleon was no more, a smiling corpse as his body turned into the crimson fluid, melting and flowing as he internalized his screams of pain.

"For you... My Love."