Facing Sins, The fall of High Prophet

[[Witchcrafter]Oboro Larrs]

Olymus was a city of sins, a city the sprawled the vast lands it claimed stretching beyond sight or reason. To stand in the centre of Olymus was to stand among its many mighty towers and look over a horizon of shining white and black steel. The witchcrafters are nothing if not very selective in their colours. Most of the city gleamed its stark white as if glaring down at those that had diegned to black.

This was to be ecpected, officialy the white cast ruled. Masters of healing and smiting only when nessassary. Witchcrafters had far to much power for their own good. Even the cybernetic legions now rising could do little but hope Olymus remained nuetral as it always had. Don't bother us, and we won't bother you. Sadly idealism tends to lead to an early death...

In the beginning Olymus truely had been a place of neutrality, a place of shining reason and philophoy and only its interventions kept the cities from each others throats. But power corrupts, wholly and completely those souls to weak to resist its lures. It was therefore inevitable that at somepoint one of the leaders would fall pray to its vices, slowly others then fell until many of the 'White' the ruling council and the greatest of Predias witchcrafters had fallen into dark practices.

In the beginning black magic was hunted down and faced with treason, to much power at too high a cost, the souls of others and slowly... your own as well. The White changed that without wanting too... its members slowly reducing the hate, the jealousy of the truely White until the dark practices were no longer hunted but instead welcomed... if only to keep an eye on those who practice them.

Today Olymus is as it was for many years, but recent events had many in panic. The populace had watched as the fabaled Black Tower, once home to the greatest of the black witchcrafters, the darkcrafters before they were driven out by the White, came crumbling down. Many had noticed the renewed works atop the great tower, several of the White had questioned the others as to why. They got their response as being in the intrests of the city, they said they were dismantling it for good.

The lie became real and tower fell. A single name floated from the ruins, those that had brought it about. "Fallen Grace". A group of mythical or strong individuals that scoured the world for those things they did not tolerate. Aparantly the darkcrafters among the White had not been as secret as intended in their actions in that place. They feared exposure, but it never came, at least not until one night as a small letter passed through under the massive stone doors of the council tower itself.

It came into the hands of one long time receptionist and staff, Mr Rones. 60 Years of age and still not tired of life. He wore two faces, one to the world and one just for himself. To the world he was Mr Rones, the worlds most efficient receptionist and most gifted psyonic. He could read minds, it made him very good at his job. The only people he couldn't read had been and still was the White themselves. Shielded from his gaze by an oath in magic. You didn't brake and oath in magic, it destroys you, eats a piece of you away and steals power. No witchcrafter would ever brake one, or they'd find themsevels to weak to resist the punishment.

The other face, his personal face was a gambling face. Mr Rones thrilled at the prospect of gaining, losing, passing and trading in money. He didn't care how much either way, it was the process, the action, the experiance of having and being part of something far bigger than himself. But mainly it was the money, he'd leave his own little marks on the money, each piece wereever possible and he gloried as he won a peice that had once been his. The thought of the hundreds of more that had held that piece since him made him believe that, for one moment, society was worth a dam.

Tonight however he was neither as when he read the contents of the letter, two lines written in deep handwriting that all but screamed the personality of the writer treatened the end of everything around him.

So it was that not ten minutes later he was bursting into the council meeting, his eyes wide in terror. The council paused and all the White turned to the muling man and his letter, held before him like bloodied weapon he wanted nothing of. Every bone in Mr Rones begged him to find the nearest exit or window and leap out into the night. Better that than what was to come.

The White stirred and one waved him over, took the letter and no sooner than he had the man that was Mr Rones showed another side of who he was. The one that could run for the Olympics, gone in a flash. The White stirred uneasily, one of two of them hadn't even been elected when Mr Rones was still and old face in the high tower. He'd ran like he'd never look back...

"Well? What does it say?" asked one of the White to the other, the other smiled faintly and gingerly peeled apart the already opened letter, drew the paper within and read aloud.

"We know. I am coming. Men bent such as you no longer deserve your station. Fallen Grace knows and I am to be its voice. Shinn."

It was a few moments before anyone spoke. Then general chaos ensued as voices contened to be heard above the rest. This lasted for several minuites, they just would not shut up. Until the high lord himseld stirred, the sudden movement jolting all others.

"A threat has been made to the White... so long it has been since anyone had been so foolish."

The White who had read the letter found his voice first.

"No... perhaps not. I've heard a little about this man Shinn and nothing that bodes well for us...."

The mention of the name turned some faces blank White and others into cocky grins. But on the whole it met passive unkowing faces. The high lord spoke again clearly one of the left out.

"Tell us what you know Dorian."

The White nodded and set about his grim speech.

"No one knows for were he came or was born. He looks different, Perdian and yet not. Witchcrafters know that better than anyone else. His magic is wild, blazing inside him like a furnace with too much coal. Yet he speaks our language and knows our mannerisms. Many of you hear probably know him as the heir to the Bimtis throne-"

"What? You just said we didn't know his bir-"

"We don't. it seems Princess Katherine took a liking to him and that was that. Regardless of this I don't think a small thing like political repercussions will bother him in the slightest-"

Another interuption at that.

"Wait! If he attacks us, Olymus, it will mean war! Olymus hasn't been at war with anyone since the dark days and the Darkcrafter Hadrian Spawn. For good reason! You'd be mad to make Olymus your enemy we-"

Dorian broke in once more.

"You won't care!" They all fell silent, "I've tracked this man since he came into light from the earliest opertunity and covered his dealings and adventures with great pursuit. When he says he will do something he will, and this letter is undeniably his, it reaks of his magic, probably written by magical means simply to state that point." Dorian dared any other to interfere, glaring at all preasent, they'd asked for the story so by the gods they'd get it. He tactfuly avoid the high lord however, he wasn't that brave.

"He appeared out of nowere and immediately joined the group "Fallen Grace" under the leadership of one Mosh Rindhawk. Another mystery there but not relevant at the moment. But if Mosh ever gave Shinn an order I have yet to see evidence of it. From what I have managed to gleam they seem to have some kind of bitter understanding." Dorian shook his head, he was getting off topic, "Either way we should be cautious of this man, Shinn is known too many as a powerful Witchcrafter mainly attributed to electric skills and shadow magic. I'd say he is the equal of any lesser White and an easy challenge for some greater."

This had the desired effect, few compared people to the White. It was like looking at and elephant as reference to the size of an ant. It wasn't done for sanity reasons, might drive the ant insane.

"Purpostrous! The lineage of the White are the strongest families in Olymus... no! The World! Some lowlife throne thief with power our equal can't exist!"

Dorian shook his head... sometimes he thought things about his fellow White... no. Just his imagination, right now it was imperitive he stress the need for caution. Things that ended up in Shinn's path tend to have very short life expectances... with the odd few exceptions.

"Not nessacarily... I don't think his magic comes from his blood..." he couldn't help it... it was only a theory but...

"What do you mean Dorian?"

The high lord spoke once more... this was unerving... the high lord rarely spoke and now hes all questions and in charge? Why now? Why him?!

"I have theorised about the 'ghosts of the past', somthing i know many here have discredited at one point or another. We all know they exist but some evidence has indicated that these ghots... 'Remenants' as we call them are not of this world..." the other Whites were listening... the high lord was too, perhaps thats why they were as well, "Well I thought that maybe this 'Shinn' is one of them. His magical aura as witnessed by several witchcrafters that survived the Black Tower incident was clearly reminiscent of them."

The High Lord stood up and walked to the window, the sudden movement had all the White standing like boards. The High Lord had moved! Imagine their attention when he spoke.

"A Possession then? Interesting..."

Dorian coudln't help himself. He was a Scholar at heart.#

"What do you mean? Possessions happen all the time but their nothing like this ir him,"

The High Lord turned and then seemingly begrudgingly began to speak, Dorian noticed with anoyance that none dared interupt him. The High Lord did not miss his scowl, biut didn't answer it either.

"This is a secret passed from one High Lord to the next... its ramifications are... great but if this man is what i think he is then now is the time you knew. The current White." He nodded to each of them, "The God Ace, who came in human form was nothing more than a possession. This type of Possession, a 'Remenant' Posession."

It took a moment for that to sink in.

When it did several of the White collapsed back into their chairs, one cried. If they'd learned of it in any other way they'd have screamed heresy. Even Witchcrafters believed in Ace... but this was their High Lord...

Dorian spoke first, his face held only interest.

"A 'Remenant' possession?!? That wouild mean... is he a god?! No, then that would mean that Ace... this is..."

"Indeed and that is why it is not public knowledge, the world is not ready. However this makes this man very dangerous and above all very powerful. Perhaps more than we have yet seen." The High Lord sat down and took the letter from were it had come to lay upon his desk, unfolding it he spotted a row of numbers in the bottum corner...

12:00PM

The clock read the same.

"Oh no..." he managed, as streak of lighting thundered down outside the window, the sudden flash seen through the rain and rolling thunder that followed. Then he, and all the White knew. Someone was outside their doors... wanting in.

"Lock the entrances and bar the corridors! Get ready, this is not going to be easy." and everyone, all the White. Believed him.

*

The thunder silenced and where the bolt had struck a man was standing. Two guards had already moved to investigate and lay open to the world beside him, holes neatly torn through eithers chest. The man stod, the rain somehow moving around him and down behind him... never touching, refusing to touch.

The remaining four guards backed towards the entrance to the bright White tower they gaurded, mearning to close the massive Stone doors in his face and let him come then. The Doors did not move, no-one answered and inside Mr Rones cried silently behind his desk having not made it out in time. He should have ran when he'd had the chance... but all had refused to deliver the message... he'd been the only one... curse his luck!

The guards fell one by one as the man tore among them, all swift movements and calculated sweeps of a short but deady blade all but ivisible in the rain. The last died with it impaled through his right eye, the length of the blade easily enough to destroy the brain. It took only a moment to free it, blood in all its tacky glory could not adorn the weapon and it was left as gleaming and free as the day it forged.

The man studied the doors.

Two massive slabs of magic sentient stone each eight metres hiegh and three metres thick. The two slided togeather so neatly that it was hard to tell were one started and another ended. THis didn't seem to bother than man at all.

Then a face grew out from the stone and spoke, all brick stright lines and white eyes.

"You are not welcome, leave of be struck down!" a rolling thunderous voice commanded.

The man did not move and so the Stone struck, in one movement its mouth opened and a blast of pure witchflame roared out to meet the man. Only to stop and swurve abrubtly away, the man had raised a gloved hand, a strange symbol beat on the air with the force of pressence. The flames snapped off and the Stone face was as surprised as stone might be. The man took three steps forward and then, as though thinking about it, took another step back before speaking.

"I come as indicated... I have and appointment."

In one moment the Stone Doors that had stood since the founding of Olymnus stood tall and in the next they rocketed inwards, smash from ancient hinges and bright white light lit up in the ancient insides of the towers main hall. Crackling energies thundered on the air and cannoned into anyone or anything not already hiding behind something else. Mr Rones screamed as hsi ears heard it all. He wasn't even aware he was screaming for the noise drowned it all.

Moments passed and chucks of massive stone came to rest in various places, the magisty of the main hall ruined beyond constructive repair.. Mosiacs and works of such age could not be fixed as one might a window or door. Mr Rones look up to see half a face still standing out on a chunk of rock that had soard or his desk and landed auspiciously between his legs but missing anytihng important.

The face did not move and he doubted it would ever again.

The great gate gaurdian of the White Tower lay in ruins, smashed beyond repair. Mr Rones relieved himself as he stared into the one remaining blank eye and realised the stone had seen its death a momment before it had occured.. he saw that moment forever captured beyond any artizans dream sitting right before him.

Poor Sod, Mr Rone kciked it away with all his strength, anything to stop the thing glaring at him. It was then he heard the bell ding above him. Someone was pressing the call button on the otherside. He looked up, straight into a pair of smiling eyes with a grin to match.

"Which way to the White chambers? I'm expected I am!"

Mr Rones was thankful his bladder was all empty, he'd never have benn able look dignified, sullied as he already was.

"Up the stairs, right to the top through the ampetheatre and on your right. Can't miss it." he heard himself saying, thought why he couldn't guess. The damn coward had taken over again. The man above him nodded and turnd to leave and that when Mr Rones realised... he couldn't scan him. That was the fiinal straw and Mr Rones, the man who had watched over the great entrance to the White for so many years, curled up into a small ball and wished the world away...

*

They heard the noise below and everyone preasent felt the gatekeeper die. The great tower shook for a momment as if in agony for its permanant loss. The gatekeeper could never be replaced by modern means... he was an ancient secret in lost arts of stone. Some believe he'd been an early witchcrafter himself, and earth type, that had imortalised himself in stone to see the ages after his death.

Now he was gone and they knew it.

"He's inside! That should be impossible, the gatekeeper!"

Dorian shook his head,

"Is dead! Now theres nothing between him and us besides a few initiates and fellow witchcrafters..."

The High Lord seemed to smile at this, replaced with an odd grin, muttering to himself. Dorian only overhead a snatch...

"... a challenge at last... root out the cancer..."

There was a further shudder and then the tower came to a grudging rest. the Hight lord looked upon the others with distate... and age of dodling fools.

"Go, intercept this man and bring him to me, alive if possible, dead if nessassary." all of the White simply nodded, the High Lords tone spoke to no question. Dorian opened the door for the others.

"Time to go hunt a god." he said, rather pleased with himself till he stopped over the door and he realised what he'd said... s**t...

[[Witchcrafter]Oboro Larrs]

Rounds chipped the ancient stonework as more and more guards attempted to halt the mans progress and yet never did a single one come close. With each second the guards unleashed a hailstrom and yet nothing ciould hurt the man, each round going off course only slightly to avoid a hit. As thought the bullets themselves feared the man.

"One, two, three..." the man chimmed as each second passed... "Four, five, six! Empty!" he proclaimed at last and every gun fell silent. The guards looked down only to notice they'd ran out and he was among them then.

The man darted from shadow to shadow like a wraith, sometimes gutting a man with a short knife and others he'd simply drag them back in with him. They never saw those men again and it horrified those left that such a fate would be theirs. Each remaining guard breathed a sigh of relief then as the initiates arrived in number behind them. They'd see this intruder off!

The man walked out of a shadow before the closest of the initiates and stared into the mans face.

"Boo!" to the initiates pride he didn't react. He couldn't! This man all but filled the room, his aura stretching from wall to wall as thought laying claim to it all. He something larger, greater than they could comprehend. Those that looked upon him with bewitched eyes, one of the first skills one learns as a witchcrafter, they ran screaming from the hall, and ant having seen an Elephant. Sanity and reason lost.

Those that remained looked upon the man with only their own eyes and still they quaked in their shoes. The man was smiling, a genuine nice smiled that had no place in a room staunched with fallen blood and waving shadows.

"Stay out of my way, I have an appointment, you people realy are rude." his tone polite and refreshing, disturbing the remaining initiates beyond sense. The man walked passed them calmly and began to climb the stairs when one of the bravest found his voice and his power again.

"You go nowhere!" he cried and cast a fireball at the man, again as swift as the eye the man simply raised a hand and the fire stuck a wall before the man that consumed the low flame. The gloved symbol again sll but tremored on the air. The magic was so... so... rich here that the man could feel it burning within him.

"The cornered mouse will fight the cat, but that dosen't mean the cat won't win." and the man turned and walked away, perhaps for dramatic effect and perhaps out of arrogance. None of the initiates tried to stop him, glad in soul that he was simply nowhere near them and theirs. One turned to another.

"Hes going after the White!"

"It dosen't matter... we can't stop him. That barrier..."

"I know... all of us togeather could create a shield like that..."

"It's not that, I've never seen a symbol like that or magic of that form..."

"He's beyond us... he's something else...."

The initiates paused at that each reaching the same conclusion and then, as one, they turned tail and ran into the rain beyond the great hall, through the demolished doors and past a sniviling Mr Rones. None of them looked back. After a pause, to survey the situation Mr Rones joined them. Let it not be told that a Rones had lost his reason! And reason demanded he turn tail and run for his life....

*

One of the White decended the stairs with open content, surrounded by his high guard, witchcrafters nearly White in their own right. Three on his left and three on his right, With these men and women by his side he was invincible.

He'd gathered them to him from an early age. He knew he was destined for greatness even then and so he'd gathered others so that togeather they could rise in rank. He had emerged on top, as planned and now they were with him whenever he went to face another. Overkill was a word this White did not understand and if he had, he'd have loved it.

Still the White, Dorians, words still rang through his head. He claimed this man was a rememant, a power from outside our world or perhaps from before it. Who could know? He'd make a point of asking the man before he died. The opposite didn't even have a place in his mind.

That was when someone scremaed further below, the sound of frantic footsteps climbing halted the downwards arc of the White. They paused and waited as the footseps gained ground towards them. One of his guards stepped forward, his hands both awash in pale white light. The White had seen those hands pass through steel and stoen with equal ease.

An Initiate turned the corner and ran past them, his eyes streaming. The guard simply let him pass, all eyes following the mans progress until he found the nearest window behind them, with a muttered pray and threw himself out.

The White simply waited, the man had ran past without even noticing him, all bowed before the White, noticed them. They had power! This man hadn't cared, baser instincts driving him on. A sudden tremble wracked the White but he caught it at its source. The initiate had seen this mans power and had lost all sense... perhaps Dorian was not such a fool afterall. That said... it was only an intiate.

*

"You will come no further!" called the white clad witchcrafter to man ascending the stairs below. Several others stood with him, full witchcrafters in their own right, known as White Knights. The army of the White, the assassains of the White, the hand of the White. The man kept going, how could he not see the emblum of the White knights? A fool to defy them!

"This is your final warning!" cried another, and then all those preasent formed before the lip of the stairs and joined in one great barrier. Blocking the mans progress. It was a very good barrier, a shield of magic cast out from the bodies own form to suround and protect, as well as block and defend.

The man reached out and touched the barrier, his hands rested on the shield and then slowly, one step at a time he pushed it back. First the White Knights were shocked, horriefied at this and then they redoublled their efforts and the sheild shrank nomore. This man had touched their sheild! Touched the magic itself!

The man had paused and seemed a little in thought, before his eyes widened and he smield a cheeky smile.

"Not bad for a second rate attempt. Sadly its just a bad match I'm afraid...." with that the man clapsed his hands and the two gloves once more burned the air with their foriegn symbols a glow. A low humming surround them man and his body was suddenly surrouned by a bright orange hue. Smiling the man stepped forwards and then through their shield. Ignroing it completely and the shield snapped off, the casters finding they could no longer raise it again. All was silent until one of them found their tongue.

This just wasn't happening!

"This isn't happening! That's... impossible!"

The man shook his head.

"Just what do they teach here? It's rather obvious that if you projct a shield like that all I need to do i project one of the same. Otherwise that barrier of yours would block anything you cast as well."

"You match our aura?!?"

"Yes, Its not hard, your shield was practicaly screaming it out loud."

All the knights took a step back and then a few more for good measure, the man had some tricks up his sleeve that meant nothing. They'd stopped him and he'd been forced to try something else. That meant they were a match for him afterall. New determination flooded each face and all togeather they summoned magic.

And found themselves without a target.

"Be seeing ya," called a voice from the stairs behind them. The man was climbing the stairs, he'd got past them without so much as a noise.

"Get him!" and as one the White Knights let loose their own attacks toward the man, raining white flames and spears of water. Yet nothing could pass the stairs, as the magic flashed across the threshold it slammed into a barrier which came into being. The barrier blocked the entire stairs from wall to wall, strong and vibrant and apparantly compeltely autonomous. The man had reached the top and continued on, not even looking back.

The Knights surveyed the barrier and decided they'd got off easy, they didn't want to fight somone capable of settting such a thing in place. One of them struck again at the barrier, it flicked asisde the attack and went back into standy mode. It wasn't gone, they could all feel it now, humming in the background and they had all spotted the crude symbols carved into the stone beyond, gleaming and errie orange hue.

"Anyone else?"

They al shook their collective heads and then sat down. Thinking hard how to get past it, they were after all Knights. They had a job to do.

"Anyone got anything?"

"Nope."

"Oh well... keep at it I suppose." and so they hit the barrier again and again waiting until, at some point the thing failed. They waited a long time.

[[Witchcrafter]Oboro Larrs]

The High Lord finaly read the top, even for him it was a long climb and witchcrafters were too old fashioned to have installed and elevator. Even if it had been one of the few things he'd pushed for since taking the job. All the White had noddded vigourously spouting "At your command!" over and over but it seemed everyone was too busy to actualy get around to it.

Afterall who'd want an elevator installed when it would drasticly reduce the amount of lounging around and excuses for being late? No-one, absolutely none. Rotten to the core the lot of them! The High Lord sighed, pushed upon the old wooded door and stepped out onto the roof.

The Tower was high, impossibly high, it defied the laws of contruction, leaning up into the heavens by magical means. The first construction of the first true Whitecrafters as a bolt hole when the world was still in the shadow of Darkcrafters. Times had changed and now it was mearly a council building and source of meagre pride to the general populace. It history meant nothing to them.

Any normal human would suffacate at such a hieght, the air thinner than the lungs could manage. Not a witchcrafter however, no, a simple binding and the air couldn't wait to fill the void around him, supplying him with the air to breathe and more besides. Magic can be used for great good and greater evil and yet it was the simple things it let him do that amused the High Lord greatly.

"I wonder if he'll get here?" a slow grin tasted his face, and old shadow seeing through the High Lords eyes. The voice not completely his own. "I'm waiting Shinn, have been for sometime... come and lets finnish what we started!"

Clouds rolled and thunder burned the sky. Down below the White put their lives on a precarious line.

*

"I am councellor Brigman! Fourth of the White! Halt and surrender, mercy is not beyond me." His words like rolling thunder all by themselves. His gaurd flanked him along with Dorian who'd turned up at the last moment to join in. Thought where from was anyones guess, Dorian had a way of appearing when he was or defineately wasn't wanted either way. Dorian also took a step towards the still ascending figure, as he spoke the man gained the lip of the stairs and stood expectantly.

"I am Dorian, Third among the White. Desist in this act of violence and explain yourself." with a strenght of voice that took all his courage.

The man simply stood, as though waiting for someone else. He wasn't very impressive looking.

The man wore a faint reminicent of early witchhunter clothing, a long brown leather duster and cowboy shaped hat with wide brims. The shoes were the only thing that spoiled the image, more like army boots than anything else. A patch covered one eye and he smiled vaguely.

"You like Mr Dorian? I was at one of Mosh's damned cosplay parties when I got the information I was waiting on. I didn't have time to change and I love contradictions, as a witchcrafter i wear the very symbol of old blood. Even if it is a cheap rip off, $450, rental." the man had winced at the price, as though remembering something terribly hard to do... likely handing over that much money. His smile returned easily as though it had alot a practice doing just that.

Dorian was going to speak when a door to the left opened and another White gained the hall. Dorian made a slight noise of diaprovement. The new White was a man he did not like, from an old family and son of a former White his power was well endowed but something about him had always complained to Dorians senses. He too was surrounded by his own attache.

Six very beautiful women all dressed int the simple White robes of the bodyguard and to Dorians dark suspicians probable more. It fed the old flame of anoyance that such a man could even be a White, weather gifted or not.

"Sorry for being late, is this the intruder? Dosen't look like much." The new White all but gave the smiling man a brief look before he attacked. And what an attack, the White was leaving no chances. Power floiwed too the man water from a endless tap, lines of power pulled inwards and then in one blinding moment fired towards the man at the stairs. Barely a moment had past, that little time to cast such a powerful force thrust. Magic lacking any element, just pure kenetic energy.

The man at the stairs blinked and the raised a hand, but no glove lit or barier cast. Dorian instead watched in facination as small streaks of feadly lighting crawled up from within the man, sparking along his arm and between his finger until with a thunderclap they sprang outwards to meet the force oncoming.

Their was a noise like a hammer stroke and the room was quiet, in the center of the small hall a crumbled pile of stone was waxed into a smooth hole on the ground, several statues had been obliterated by the force thrust which had been unceremoniously knocked asisde. Within the mooth sphere of stone stood the new White, surrounded by the strongest barrier he'd managed. It had barely saved him and rested only inches from his skin.

It had not saved his attache. they lay struin around the room, but too Dorians surprise they were all breathing, he knew this like he knew that he'd been wrong about this man. Perhaps anywere else in the world this man was a danger, here he was a one man army. Dorian was a scholar above all else, he knew that the tower rested on a place of power, a place were magic seeped into the world from elsewere...

This man was like a flame with little air, could only breath so gingerly. But here he could roar and light the sky aflame, in the centre of magic once more. This was a 'Remenant'' and he knew ways beyond Predian understanding. As it ws the man lowered his arm and smiled again as if it was the easiest thing in the world. The Whites barrier snapped off, weather of his own will or not was unkown but his face was blaunched as white as his robes.

"That was not nice, ever since I arrived here you have been nothing but rude. Now i finaly meet you, you throw such a thing at me?" Dorian had to smile, the man was nothing if not a contradiction to himself.

"You did afterall kill many of our guards, cause many of our initiates to run screaming through the halls and trap our Knights below. Not exactly the behaviour of a guest." Dorian added easily.

The man rounded on him fully for the first time and he reailsed why the man had indeed been so terrifying, his preasence was immeditately foceused on him and it felt as if the stone itself was leaning down upon him, pushing at his soul from all sides. Then it was gone, perhaps by the odd feeling of a kindred spirit.

"Your alright Mr Dorian, free of taint. Please don't get in my way, I'm only here for those who brought it on themselves." the man moved to turn back to the new White, but Dorian wasn't about to let him end it with that.

"Taint? What do mean?"

The man returned his gaze, niether anoyed nor overjoyed at his renewed interuptions.

"Simply that you are wothy to be a White as anyone is and that not all your fellows are the same." the man rounded upon Mr Bigman and after a moment he smiled again.

"Power hungry, passionate... greedy perhaps but not corrupt. Never corrupt. You pass if only on the strenght of those by your side. Treasure them Mr Bigman, when I was about to attack they cast back their own protections and set them upon you. Had I attacked you, they would have paid in their lives."

The White looked in startlement at his fellows, but they only smiled and nodded to him. Loyalty like that couldn't be bought or demanded, it just was and would be. The White hid back his tears and silently swore he'd never see them harmed, as they would never see him. A little good in the world.

The man seemed to nod approvingly, until he rounded on the last White. His gaze seemed to darken and the White took several steps back, calling for his attache to get up and take their place. Some of them to their credit tried to drag themselves towards him. How could the man be so cruel? Then Dorian thought of what the man was saying, it was like a witchhunt, taking out the rotten.

"You however are not sinless are you. These poor women have no choice but to do your bidding, scared and controlled as they are through pledges made in blood..." the man spoke only truth, it flash on the air between them as the words opened dark doors.

The White, one moment a broken man backing away stopped and rose, too new heights. A devilsh grin breaking through the arrogant exterior. It did not belong, and in a flash, his White robes burned brightly, turning to darkness.

There now stood a man in long billowing black robes, eyes like a cats, stetched and evil, with one wide grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. The man was White no longer, the hidden desires burning through the calm deciet. His voice too was not the same, althout it carried similar tones.

"So the cats out of the bag eh? Good, i was getting tired of playing the good old man, saviour of thousands, its just so much more fun to be bad. And so much more powerful!" and Dorian looked in horror as the magic around him caught fire, swirling and beating upont he air like several hundred heartbeats all at once.

The flames rose around the former White, buring to new hieghts and he reveled in it all. The man remained were he was, to Dorians amazement he seemed remarkably unimpressed.

"Yes it is powerful alight, but a child like you has no understanding of how." It was over in a moment and not in the way all thought but the man. The former White choked on his own blood and looked behind him, one of the women had gotten too close and stabbed him right in the back, the blade piecing his diafram and impaling a lung. He whimpered suddenly as the flames died out and in that horrible momment when the rest fell upon him, kifes flashing in the air. One of the women fell back screaming as he used the last of his strenght to burn her face black and then he was dead.

The man moved to the women screaming, comforted by others who tried to hold her down. All were covered with blood. The man leaned over and grabbed the womans hands that covered her blazing face and the magic snuffed out. His hands hued a calm green until the women fell silent and slack upon the floor. The other White simply watched, stunned for words. The man turned to the watching attache now free of their charge.

"Your free now, I have sundered your oaths and burned black the blood within you. That is why I struck you. I'm sorry if it pained but it was nessassary and will not be the last i strike this night." He smiled at them and for the first time they nodded and thanked a person of their own accord. "You are brave souls, leave this place and go elsewere, take her with you and don't look back. If you remain here only nightmares and remembered bad blood will haunt your nights. You have been touched by black magic, get as far from this tower as you must."

They nodded and stood, uneasily upon their feet and togeather carried the other fallen one with them, silver daggers remained were they had been left or otherwise still impaled within the fallen black robed darkcrafter. The man stood and turned to the other two White.

"He's not the only one, stay or leave at your own will. Do not interfere." and the man was gone. One moment there and the other he was upon the stairs once more, always ascending.

*

Dorian walked over the man's remains. The women had been anything if not efficient. They'd slit his throat, impaled his eyes and tore open both his guts and his privates. They'd left nothing to chance and broken the remains of the man to their upmost. He found he couldn't blame them... such a horror had occurred right beneath his own eyes.... he'd guessed... thought perhaps of minor threats or a little womanising but this...

The fallen ones robes were now as red as they were black, with both his blood and his draining magic. Dorian couldn't help but want to kick the rotting corpse, it stood for everything he hated. How could this have happened?!

How could the gods have allowed a White to so corrupt! The man's words... vieled warnings of others among them. Who? Who could he trust now? Bigman, he was pure, if not a little wasted with it. He turned to find the man watching him, his guard still stunned at having seen what they had.

"This is dire.... one of our own..." he muttered.

Dorian nodded in agreement.

"We should warn the High... no." Dorain hesitated, who was to say the High Lord himself wasn't among them? Wasn't one of them. He looked helplessly at Bigman. "Who can we trust?"

Bigman took a moment to reply, all his will behind his words.

"That man, he was afterall, entirely correct."

Dorian nodded. Then felt sick, they were praying that a man they niether knew nor trusted could find the sinners among them. It felt disheartning... that such a thing could be true.

"We should follow him, if only to see for outselves who else is not as they seem. How many of the thirteen will have fallen?"

"I don't know... I have known some for years... but now..." Bigman sighed and then set his face in stone, turned his back on the corpse of a sinner and made for the stairs claimbing upwards. "Yes lets follow and see the traitors for ourselves!"

Dorian nodded again, he was getting good at it.

[[Witchcrafter]Oboro Larrs]

The stairs slowly rose to their inevitable outcome, but the man wasn't there just yet. To cut out the heart one must bypass many obsticles and each had lined itself up before him like walls he must climb. The man didn't stop however, continuing his climb at and even, unhurried pace even with the footsteps below sounding the two White cautiously following behind.

They didn't want to stiop him, or at least they didn't want to try, but duty demand they be there if needed. Afterall they were White and what other purpose could they serve if not damage control?

Dorian was thinking, he tended to at times like this, thoughts boiling in his mind, alternative vieing for attention and possibilites floating before him like so many alternate futures. He analysed them all, it was his calling, to see beyond the viel of human thoughts, limited thinking, to see the unhuman sides of everything.

Right now everything was screaming. This man was not supposed to be, in every furture, every possibility he did not exist, only in this one! and no other. His actions had no dizzing possible consquences, only one and ever one. His path was singlular and his existance was unquie. Dorian had one horrible suspician that it was simply impossible for a mere Predian to understand, to see, even from another perspective what this man was. Who he was.

And so Dorian had refocused, focusing on the past for this man had no possible futures to gleam. Only one and he hadn't made it yet.

And so the world unfolded in Dorian's mind, past and beyond as he followed the man through his whispered existance, to something beyond. It nearly drove him mad. As images flashed and he followed the tiny link to somewere beyond... Dorians gift awoke and for a split moment he was no longer in Predia.

*

A sky burned, boils of black smoke rising from every horizon. Dorian watched with watered eyes as a world died. Strange weapons rose and fell, lights blinking in and out of existance with explosive ease. Cities flashed and in a moment were swept aside. Beings walked the streets, staring in horror, running, fleeing, accepting their fate and fighting to defeat it.

The whole world was screaming as life ended it horrible tallies, mushrooms of death feasted upon the earth and flames claimed the billions below. Dorian stood, looking down on what might have been a world of calm blues and strong greens. Instead the it was a world of red, surrounded and hidded in the black flames of its own destruction. Landmasses dissapeared beneath detonations of fiece stenght, blinding lights forcing them into utter silence.

Dorian wached as each land traded weapons of mass destruction, santiy, reason forgotten all for the need for revenge. With the opening destruction more followed, more terrible that anything before. The world tremebled and then burned from one pole to another.

The scene refocused, taking him closer. He tried to pull away but he'd asked to see the past and his gift would show him. Regardless of what he did or now wanted.

Cities yet to die focused into being, he was standing among their many buildings. Upon a ground of boiling concrete, the heat so inense those beings around boiled as if before the sun itself.

These beings were people.

Those people were Predians, no not Predian.

Human

Dorain stunned turned to his left, were Shinn was watching dressed very differently.

He wore a great green cape emblazend with strange symbols. His hair was stark white with no hat to hide it and his appearance was lesser than the man he'd seen. This was before the man that he knew, a yonger version from the past. A guide his power had drawn forth. Dorian tried a smile, the man beamed back as the city around suddenly boiled and burned caught up in a detonation that tore it apart. Dorian screamed but it was lost. The light died away and he stood, the world a wash with flame and rubble.

"What is happening?"

We are dying. It's not over, watch.

The focus shifted, no longer above or about but in one place. A great city of black monoliths, the sky and impenatrable black without a trace of stars. The moon hung overhead, larger than anything he'd ever seen, demanding its existance.

Strange lights swirled within the black city, even this place was not free of the war the surrounded them. The world was burning and this city was no different.

Yet it had a greater fate. The world shifted once more, standing atop a great black tower, the top sorn off by some great force they stood atop the remains. Dorian recognised it immediately, the Black Tower. He drew a deep breath.

A legacy, something the survived, Mosh was nothing if not though in his Protections... not that it stopped me.

Dorian didn't ask, he might not like the answer to that.

The scene before him was far to great a sight anyway, he couldn't look away. The steets were a flow with things, creatures of horror and nightmares, which surged up from shadow and darkness. They dripped blood, massive talons and ravernous claws. Eyes aglow with vigourous fire. Hell on earth and as Dorian thought it, he knew it true.

Humans too, filled the streets. But not ordinary ones, he could see that. Unlike the other cities, which looked up all at one only to blink out of life this city was different, it fought back.

The humans roared through the sreets, some cursing, others screaming and many swearing. Blood ran like water, blades drawn they cut a terrible path. These were not normal mortals...

No-one in Slayer ever was... the greatest of our race, the place of our strength. Last Hope.

The Shinn by his side grew uncertian, its focus less, its appearance more like the man he knew. Dorain didn't ask, his mind couldn't face that truth. The mortals below met the armies of hell and sudden death filled the streets greater than anything that had come before. Blades fell, talons ripped, faith shattered and hell roared. As mortal and... demon... met in force to decide the fate of all.

Above another battle as shining figures of great light, warming radiance that eased the soul met figures of baleful light and clased, in waves of fury that tore down buildings and kileld hundreds below. A battle of gods, or something close enough. Yet the was not the worst.

Within it all two men clashed and Dorian recognised both. Ace and Paperdol. Legends both famous and infamous, gods in his world and in this, not far off. They clashed like titans and nothing could close, burned of both form and soul for simply trying. Dorian shivered as whatched those that tried to watch the battle scream, as thought simply seeing them was enough to burn out the mortal mind.

"Why? Why can i watch and they not?"

Becuase you are with me. They are powerful but so was I and here i still am.

Dorian didn't like that answer, if this was power here then the Shinn he knew wasn't even close to his potential. Such power. It erased the newborn and brough back the dead. Bodies rising and falling with even ease, even the slayed could not die. Mortals ran without fear of death and the demons were endless. Here reality shattered, untolerable forces clashed and all reason lost.

The image shifted as the world shattered and only darkness was left. Filled with an endless scream.

Reality rejected us, forces to foriegn and futures coliding to quickly to be fashioned by a higher hand. So the world removed us, or we removed outselves. The battle ended as so did we. This, the remains is Predia.

The Shinn stood oppisite him as the darkness was cast back, the world came to light once more... so much smaller... so much lesser. Less Real. Dorian saw it all from impossible height. The Shinn he saw was a walking figure, a ghost that whsipered with the howling wind. This was his form now.

Our bodies died, our energies filled the small island of a world and it grew. It became larger than just a city. The strongest of us were anchors, a remains greater than a single, but a whole.

The black tower rose up before them, surrounded by an unforgiving desert. It stood, still ruined and desecrated but the battle it had suffered untouched by the Predians that would come later.

Mosh.

The scene shifted and now there was a great tree, whoose roots dug deep into the earth, and whoose branches extended into the sky. Surrounded on all side by flowing lakes and swamps, trees and light.

Shinn.

Again the scene sifted, and Dorian knew himself beneath the earth of Bimtis. Lying there, deep down and in the dark was a great sword, it al but shines in the dark but its glow was dim.

Ace.

Finaly they were above Musca, before the city and the people there stood an entomed figure and he knew it to be the statue of Musca. The 'Great Dark One' as declared by Ace. The Statue of the Dark God.

Paperdol.

The scene was now gone, the world dark once more and only Shinn remained. Back to his youthful self, smiling once more.

"Why? Why?!?"

Shinn smiled still, changing to a knowing one.

Becuase it had to be, all though we died at different times each one was a thrust against reality. We overcame our mortality without even realising it. It had to go somewere.

Dorain collapsed onto and unseen floor, but it seemed real enough.

"This is... horrible. This land is tainted... such horror..."

We brought in on ourselves, allowed the darkness to grow while good men did nothing. Our world is still burning... somewere we think. This is why we exist now, trying to stop you making our mistakes. You don't deserve our fate. Your world sits upon the remains of ours... our city, our blood. You think we'd not interfere?

This brought a start from Dorian, he'd finaly noticed. This wasn't the Shinn that was currently attacking the White tower. So who was it? The Shinn smiled once more.

You'll never know. You have the truth of the past, for what its worth to you. I shall look forward to the coming of your kind, they should be... amusing... these Predians. Predia... a good name.

And then it ended, his gifted recoiled as it hit by a tremendous force.

*

Dorian collasped, hand on chest, panting to the floor and cried for all his eyes were worth. In that world emotion had been a small thing, he gifted kept it back so what it showed could be seen. But it did not erase it, and it came back.

Bigman rushed to him and was shouting. Dorian looked up, knowing what he'd see. The man was smiling down at him.

"Welcome back Dorian, nice to see you again."