Runes of Magic US / AU

19. Crack

"Ghost! You're alive," exclaimed Pwn in a rather cheerful tone.

I looked down at my arms and then checked my boots. Confused, I patted down my chest and turned my wrists rightside up. "Alive eh? You must be thinking of a different Ghost. And is that Pada! Pada the Grate?"

"Great." He corrected.

I shuttered my eyes and peered down at him closely. "How did you know I meant the other great?"

"Because you're you."

"Good point!" I hopped down from the husk of the hulking guardian and opened my arms in a gesture of goodwill. Or perhaps it was hostility, for my arms were quite crackling with energy and my voice seemed to be cackling with madness. I pondered this question for a moment until the warlock known as Boulder chimed in.

"Ghost you've been laughing like a mad man for ten minutes and you've got fire spewing from your arms..."

I checked myself. It seems that I was indeed an effigy of laughter and fire. Two words that most certainly go together. I lowered my arms, and my voice. The flames of darkness disappeared and the room grew silent once more. Too silent...

Pwnager was the first to break the silence. "Ghost, how did you manage to kill a guardian all by yourself?" He asked rather pointedly.

"Guardian eh?" I turned around to face the object of his fascination and then froze at the sight. I then turned back around and exclaimed defensively, "You can't prove anything! That guardian was in cahoots with the orphanage! It was self defense. They attacked me!" I placed heavy emphasis on the me.

"What the absolute fu..." Boulder trailed off.

Pwnager shifted his shield to a more comfortable position yet again before finally saying, "We'd better find a place for a quick respite. I'm starting to see lava seep through the cracks in the wall behind the guardian. We'd best move soon." Pada and Boulder both agreed on his point and the trio headed out through the arch I came in from.

"Anyone gonna eat that dead Guardian?" I asked.

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I didn't realize that quick respite was a synonym for 'let's take as long as humanly possible.' As I stared down at the three odd fellows lying rather comfortably upon the jagged stone floor, I just couldn't help but feel the need to throw something rather heavy and/or malicious at them. Like a cinder block or a pack of tree trunks. Listen, If you've ever seen a group of snarling, severed trees roaming around a forest scavenging for food, then you'd know exactly what I mean. However, the bearded dwarf, the half human, and the old elf just weren't the same as having a Tamun around. I shook the thought from my head. Ghosts don't need Tamuns.

In fact, I do believe its time I left this group of pathetic groundlings. They're only slowing us down. My eyes and armor turned a deep crimson as the thought entered my mind. A sparkling trail of ruby electricity ran down my arms and sparked around the tips of my fingers. Us? I thought to myself. There is no us! Only Ghost! My armor returned to it's usual jade hue and my eyes dimmed to yellow embers. Still...Something felt awry. I felt a great need to ponder but an even stronger urge to challenge...something. Ahh well, time to do what no man has ever done before! Charge off like a maniac into the depths of some terribly dark corridor! Still, as the distance between my cohorts became greater and their outlines swallowed in darkness, I felt a strange gnawing feeling of...guilt? Nah. Ghost's can't feel. And somewhere deep within the recesses of my mind I heard a voice call out to me. Enemies all.

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"What do you mean he's GONE?" roared Tamun as he brought his staff down hard against the barren rock. Bouldershoulder, despite his imposing size for a dwarf, appeared quite shaken at the sight of an angry Tamun. Perhaps I should explain, for this meeting of the minds didn't happen overnight. Well actually it did, but who am I to question word choices! Some time after I had left, the slumbering forms of Boulder, Pwn, and Pada awoke to the clattering of steel and the crashes of stone. They had quickly taken up battle stances to combat this new foe when a rather dusty looking Tamun, along with an extremely small dwarf came barreling through the arch.

"Cloose that dyoorway will ye!" The short bugger shouted. The rumble and whir of miniature guardians echoed throughout the hall behind them. Without hesitating, Pada and Boulder set to work collapsing the pagoda-like columns that held the arch in place. A few strained muscles and magical mumbo jumbo later and the arch collapsed inwards on itself, blocking the hall behind them and forever sealing their doom! Ermm, I mean saving them from certain death!

Now, I'm no psychiatrist. And I'm certainly not a witch doctor. But you should have seen the look on their faces when they all got a good view at the dwarf. For as he wiped his gauntlets and turned around to face the group, a silence born of shock spread across the room. The dwarf was clad head to toe in a perfect replica of green and black Order of Dark Glory armor with a scaly, jade helmet containing two deep-set facets where in place of eyes, sat two flickering orbs of flame. Upon his shoulders rested a cape of emerald with intricately woven insignias set against a dark background. In his right hand he brandished a short staff made of Blood Palm and Frost Crystal. The head of which was adorned with a blueish glowing core surrounded by orbiting runic symbols that were constantly changing color as they moved. The dwarf, for all intents and purposes, looked like a miniature version of Ghostlord. Of me!

After the dwarf decided he had had enough, he planted his own staff down and growled at the group. "Wyell? Quit yer gawkin and less git a move on! We've got a Ghost to catch!"

The dwarf took off down the darkened corridor without another word, his footsteps pattering lightly despite the bulk of his armor. Boulder pulled Tamun aside after the old man managed to simmer down slightly. "What, in the name of the Great Dwarf, was that?" He queried dumbstruck.

Tamun wiped his brow and grit his teeth. "He calls himself a Ghostling." Boulder gave him a questioning look. It was clear he wanted to press the old man for more information, but Tamun's face clearly spoke of one of frustration. Deigning to ask the old man later, Boulder slapped him on the back.

"All right Tam, let's get a move on then. Hate to see what Ghost's gotten himself into this time."

20. Vrantal with a side of Zygro

The group ran headlong into the Ghostling at the edge of a doorway. Pada nearly tripped over him, Tamun stubbed a toe, and Pwnager almost impaled his nethers on one of the dwarf's shoulder spikes. The armored ling barely even felt them bump into him. He was sturdy for a dwarf, that was for sure.

"Right. Wyich one o' you brine addled flea flickers knows how this ryoom wurks?"

Boulder stepped forward. "This is the room of the colossal machine known as Vrantal. This is the trial of strength." Colossal was an understatement, for the arena looked like it was large enough to house a few dozen fully grown dragons. The room looked to be as wide as a city square and twice as tall. In the center stood a large, disk shaped platform that attached directly to the entrance hall. It was on this platform they would have to fight the construct.

Pwn interjected, "Wait a tick. These machines have had specific trials associated with them?"

"Yes." Boulder answered back angrily. "And we haven't been doing very well with them. Andriol was Patience. Glamo was Cunning. Guldamor Balance. Thank you Ghost by the way for completely ruining that one. Vrantal Strength. Zygro Agility. Mantarick/Sydaphex Harmony. And the last one, Andaphelmor, is a combination of the six trials in one fight, becoming the trial of Courage."

Pada pointed to the top of the room. "That him?" He asked.

Boulder looked skyward and saw the hulking death machine begin to stir as sparks and lights roared to life. "Everybody through the door!" He yelled. "And whatever you do, DON'T run away from the beast!" The group ran into the room just as a runic barrier shot up behind them, cutting off their escape. Pwn noticed a flash of brilliant blue light flood the corridor they had come from. When it cleared, nothing but scorch marks lit up the path.

"I see what you mean by not to shy away." He breathed.

Boulder swore under his breathe. "Why is it that every time I go to explain how each of these work, things go horribly awry!!" The enormous machine crashed down into the center of the room, nearly taking up the entirety of the platform. "Watch for its particle beam when the chest glows!" The guardian Vrantal floated slightly above upon rotating cog devices. Most of its body bore similar resemblance to the disc arena where it spanned across for a couple hundred meters in each direction. Attached to its massive chest were two crystalline arms. Each one large enough to crush a house. Right on cue, the guardian's chest lit up, glowing a bright blue.

"Avoid the beam!!"

However, no attack came. The guardian's chest fluttered and sparked. The construct attempted to reposition its bulk slightly but as it moved, the last of its power was drained. The machine buzzed loudly as its inner hardware failed, eventually dulling to a soft thrum as the guardian fell backwards, crashing against the arena and crumpling against the far wall harmlessly.

Boulder wiped his eyes in confusion. "What? How?"

Ghostling strode forward and tapped him on the arm. "This place be thousands o' years old. What'd ye expect? Thyere's bound ta be some a them tha' dun work anymyore." With that, he took off in the direction of the next trial.

Pada grinned and slapped Boulder on the shoulder, "Lucky break eh?" before bounding off after the mini Ghost. The rest soon followed, leaving a stunned Boulder to stare down at his hands in silent thought.

"This is not going to help in the long run." He concluded.

Zygro

Now, this one actually seemed to have lifted the ol' dwarf's spirits quite a bit. After the many blunders with the other trials. The trial of agility faired quite well. The group, being fully refreshed and lookin for a fight came across this trial in a rather...unusual place. Instead of sitting around in its usual arena, this one's programming must have become faulty, for it and the miniature guardians under its influence had smashed one of the walls to the Hall of Survivors and had begun tunneling their way out. It became stuck in a chamber it had dug too close to a magma confluence and was seemingly waiting out its final demise there.

The group felled the construct without breaking a sweat! A rather daunting feat if you ask me, as openly flowing magma tends to get quite hot. Especially if yer wearing a silk robe or 120 pounds of reinforced steel. Now sadly, Ghostling isn't very adept at telling stories, so it seems he may have glossed over a few details. Such as, how EXACTLY the fight WENT! But that's not important. How did I bypass the guardians? That's not important either. The important thing is that the group was now hot on my heels as they hurried towards the 6th trial. Only Tamun and the Ghostling at this point knew why they were chasing me. And even Tamun only had a vague idea. That left the task up to the Ghostling! Also, did I mention how much I hate cliffhangers?

Ahhh. The sweet smell of the Spring air. The scent of flowering grapevines fresh upon the breeze. Trees in full bloom, just waiting to share their fruits with the world. The soft trickle of water from the shallow brooks winding their way down the hillside. The man was lost in his thoughts as he trundled down the vibrant streets of Dalanis City. It was a beautiful day. A perfect day. The man hefted his rather heavy pack which clinked and clanged with the sound of metallic objects. His fruits of this morning's trip to the market. The city was bustling with activity. Peddlers were hawking their wares in the central square. Children were playing in the street. The bars were filled with nightshift workers on their way home, looking to spend a few coins on heavy ale to wash away the grime of a day's or rather, night's work. But to him, this was all small stuff. The man found himself whistling as he walked. It would take a while to get home, so why not enjoy the trip there?

A good twenty minutes later and his house was in plain sight. Though to him, it was more than just a house. It was his livelihood. The structure that his eyes marveled, that caught his attention and made him daydream with joy, was less a house, and more a mansion. It was a beautifully hand-crafted abode made of the finest cedar with not a grain out of place. Varnished with such care that the wood almost seemed to meld with the sunlight. It was a three story mansion. The bottom part cradled a delicately carved porch made of white cypress and oak, with a white painted set of stairs that wound gently up from the ground, giving access to the place. Two windows on either side of the house matched the two that shone out from those in front. The porch was lined with similarly white-painted rails that extended around the front of the house, giving the space a more elegant appearance. Lined up directly with the stairs was an intricately polished door made of a rare type of wood known as Lahr Pine. The exquisite brown of the door, matched with the dull white cedar it was set against. A great many hanging ferns adorned the side eaves, while gorgeously tended potted plants dotted small shelves atop the rails. The porch also housed a round table with four chairs on it's leftmost side and a comfortably looking rocking chair on the right. The table was for general outdoor banter with guests, while the chair was purely for the self on the most humble of days.

Above the porch, rested a landing that strutted off the second floor, supported by beams from the porch below. It was similarly decorated with exotic plants and hand carved decorations. Another small table for guests sat along this balcony and a telescope sat in the corner. Two windows lined the front of the balcony as well, matching up perfectly with the porch below. Between both windows was a sliding glass door. A marvel by most human standards of this time. From the outside, a quick glimpse revealed a beautiful array of carpets and furniture resting above well-polished planks that made up the floor.

A third floor which could barely be seen from the outside, sported a singular window on both the front and back of the house. It was here that the man made his study, his fortress of solitude. A place where he could rest and relax. A place to think without the worries of the world weighing down upon him.

Most people thought that his choice of location was less than ideal. But to him, it was perfect. The back end of the house rested against the walls of the city, right over top of the rubble of Old Dalanis. Before the man had settled here, Old Dalanis was just a pile of dead trees, dilapidated housing, and destroyed masonry from some past war that left a gaping hole in the city's wall. 5 years later and the neighborhood looked astounding. With his assistance, the wall had been completely torn down and remade, the old structures razed and rebuilt anew. The cobblestone highway had been repaved, and the muddy remnants of the city cultivated with lush grasses and tall trees. His house stood right in the middle of it all. Two large cherry trees had been planted on either side of his home over top of finely cut grass. The falling pink petals enriched the scenery further. As the man stepped off the highway and into his lot, he marveled at the exotic plants that he had also bought for the front of the house. Most rich folks would put hedges up in front of their house. For him, the vibrant orange flowery vines of Silverfall Liordams, the pillowy white Snow Krills of Tergothan, and the many other strange plants adorning the loamy soil before his porch looked far more tasteful than any well-tended shrubbery.

The man climbed the stairs, turned the knob, and before he knew it, he was home. To his right was his kitchen. Lavishly packed with some of the best cutlery, containers, and cupboards that money could buy. The kitchen absolutely overflowed with fresh fruits, rare wines, delectable sweets, and exquisite dried meats. He hoped to one day hire an accomplished frost mage to construct some sort of self regulating cold storage device for more delicate foods. To his left was the dining hall. He noticed that the rectangular oak table didn't have a fleck of dust on it. The man was grateful for his housemaids. On a busy day, he could feed 24 people at that table. The fellow took in a large gulp of air. The house smelled like freshly cut wood. He absolutely loved the scent. Further down the hall was a staircase leading to the upper levels, a living room, and a work area. However, he was more interested in the small indent down the hall directly behind the dining room. It was there that he had set a small flight of stairs that led down into the basement. The man hoisted his pack, savored one last breath of fresh air, and descended down into the depths of the mansion.

He immediately noticed a change. Heat clung to him like a blanket the further down he went, though not unpleasantly. The air was slightly stuffy and he could hear the hammer of metal on metal. The buzzing of saws cutting through wood. The gentle grinding of mortar and pestle. The spinning and churning of looms. The boil of water and the sweet smell of broth. And of course, the sting of metal against water as bellows pumped loudly near a forge.

The man made his final descent and suddenly found himself looking at the real fruits of his labor. From where he was standing, he made out the three forges in the corner constantly churning out metal. Saw his hired hands picking up ingots with tongs, sometimes buckets with the melted ores, and bringing them around a corner where he could hear them being laid down upon a bench where they would soon be used in the smithy. He could see the weavers and wood fashioners on the left. Beautifully crafted robes and finery hung against the wall while more were constantly being churned out. Fine linens, silks, cottons, jutes, wools, all being spun into their end products. A couple workers brought up some planks from a stairway descending further into the basement from whence he could hear the sawing and slicing of various woods. They laid the planks evenly upon the workbenches set against the left-hand corner wall where three dwarves were busying themselves fashioning staves, bows, talismans, and shield backings.

The man knew that further down, there were alchemists busying themselves brewing potions and grinding up herbs while a mighty cookery in another room was conjuring up some of the most palpable and delicious of foods. A number of workers busied themselves with taking finished products of all kinds and ferrying them out through the back entrance of the basement where they would be placed carefully within a massive underground storage building connected to the house. A handful of mages were also in his employ, constantly tending to the infusement of runes within armors, weapons, foods, and potions. The most important thing about having them around was to ensure that the runes they used kept potions fresh and food as hot or as cold as when it was first cooked so that buyers would be as satisfied as possible with the end product. The runes in the armor and clothing kept them flexible and rustproof, while the runes in the weaponry kept them from warping, bending, and breaking unless under the harshest of circumstances.

Another group of mages also used the byproducts of leftover materials to create rare combat runes. A very prized commodity that the man found himself producing more and more of every day. The man strode to his right, careful not to interrupt the dwarves tending to the furnaces and rounded the wall that separated them from the armorers. A table littered with broken weapons sat in the middle of the room. That was his target. The man hoisted up his back and set it down on the table. He quickly unfastened it and rolled out the cloth, letting the items he had obtained spill out over the length of the table. A stout dwarf with stocky arms left the breastplate he was hammering on and joined the man at the table. Sweat poured off his brow, but he seemed vibrant and full of energy.

"So, this be the haul that need fixin' today eh?" He said excitedly as he picked up one of the many weapons that spilled from the pack.

The man grinned, showing perfectly white teeth. "Yup!" He said cheerfully. "17 weapons, mostly swords and a couple maces. Henrick said he'd pay double if we repaired em all by sunset in three days time."

The dwarf whistled. "Three days you say? Bit o' a tall order at this time o' year." He ran a finger over the edge of the blade. "Hmmm...Real dinged up. Adventure's be my guess?"

The man nodded. "That's why he wants em repaired so soon. The adventurers that dropped these off will be paying a fair sum to have their prized weapons back in top shape."

The dwarf picked up another weapon and rapped a knuckle against it. "Hmmm...How much be ol' Henrick willin to pay us fer the job?"

"Twenty-three-thousand coins." He replied.

"Twenty three?" The dwarf said wide eyed. "And what's the percent?"

"32 cut."

The dwarf set down the weapon and rubbed his hands together. "Then the chancellor's armor can wait. I'll get to workin on this right away!" He said cheerily.

"Knew I could count on you Gunther!" responded the man heartily as he gave the dwarf a slap on the back.

The dwarf picked up the worst looking swords and set them on his bench. He then began barking orders at a couple dwarves working the forges. It wasn't long before the metals he needed had begun heating. "All righ' all righ'" Gunther shouted over the noise. "Away with ye! We got work to do!"

The man smiled again. "I'll leave you to it then." The dwarf shooed him off and the man soon found himself standing outside, overlooking the neighborhood once more. The sun was just setting and people were beginning to disperse back into their houses. A lone figure on a horse in the distance caught the man's attention briefly, but he paid it no mind. However, the rider was not to be ignored, for his horse continued down the highway into his neighborhood. Several minutes later and the rider came within plain view. The horse was braided in a fashion that made the poor beast look downright miserable and the saddle resting on its back was just plain too big for it. The rider was dressed in a tightly tucked suit. A suit that bespoke arrogance and terrible fashion sense. The chains of a gold pocket-watch hung limply from the rider's right breast-pocket. The man recognized who he was staring at immediately.

Morvain pulled the reins hard and brought his horse to a stop. "Zidlef!!" The noble shouted angrily. "You and I need to have a serious talk!"

Long ago, there were seven legendary beings known as the Avatars. The Avatars lorded over the heavens, creating the universe in their design. One day, the Avatar Ekidna, created a foundation made of dust and stone, eventually forming the element of Earth. The Avatar Karask, in awe and jealousy of Ekidna's creation, formed the power of darkness, hiding the creation in jest of his brother. Fernox, liking the idea of finding Ekidna's creations, created fire, imbuing it into stars so that he might learn of them. He instead created heat within the infinite coldness. Luminate, twin of Karask found that fire was not strong enough to pierce the veil of darknes. He therefore created Light. It shone through the power of the stars, revealing Ekidna's work once more among a sea of shadows.

Karask much liked what he saw and he and the other Avatars decided that Darkness should be the natural order of things. Polython, seeing that the universe was a very colorless place, created the element of water. In time, water gave way to life. Seyala saw the land and the seas lacked form, so she created the element of Wind. Soon, planets began to take shape and water began to grow a life cycle of its own. Rain and lightning became an offspring of both elements. Polython was pleased.

As the cycles passed, life flourished. It began to grow, to take different shapes. Intelligence and wisdom began to sprout among the creatures that formed, growing with age, creating species that could rival the wisdom of even the Avatars.

Sarku, the final Avatar, was not pleased. He grew jealous of his kin's creations for he could not fashion an element of his own. In time he began to despise the elements, began to hate. His brothers and sisters told him to be patient, that his talent would be found one day. Sarku would not wait. The lecture from his siblings angered him further until his mind fell into a very dark place. He brooded for ages while his kin cultivated their most valued creation, life. Sarku, filled with fury and hatred, believing his brothers to have somehow stripped away his power, decided to take out his anger on their most beloved creation. Hidden from the others thoughts, Sarku twisted the elements, fashioning them into horrid abberations. From this darkness of hate and terror came the Demons.

Without warning, Sarku and his demons attacked. They destroyed world after world until nothing remained. The other Avatars retaliated, destroying Sarku's demons, eventually facing their brother in combat. They were too weak however to match the power of the Demon Lord, for he had found his true purpose. Fearing that Sarku would eventually tear out the fabric of the universe, the Six Avatars bonded together and attacked him directly. Their bodies collided in a collosal explosion. Nearing death, the Avatars expended the last of their power to create one last entity. Ekidna gave her body to form the rocky foundation. Polython dispersed his essence to imbue it with water. Fernox breathed his flame onto the world, giving it purpose before his own flame went out. Seyala flew over the rock, giving it shape and enkindling the elements with wind before she perished. Luminate rekindled the fading stars, bestowing light upon the world. Karask left his soul to cling to the world, giving it natural darkness.

Sarku, dying and enfuriated, vowed that even in death, he would finish what he started. In his last moments he plucked a drop of blood from his veins and threw it onto the world below. His strength gone, the last Avatar died. The world of Taborea was born that day.

From the ashes of the new world rose the elementals. Powerful beings that embodied the six different elements of creation. At their helm, titanic Elemental Kings. Dragons rose beside them, powerful beasts that could harness the living essence of the elements.Then came the common races. Elves the first. Beings that lived in harmony with the elements. Dwarves the second. A prideful race that worshiped the elements of darkness and fire. And then humans. A race that cared little for the elements but tolerated them nonetheless. As the power of the elementals grew and the populations of the races became larger, natural disaster began to spread rapidly. The Elemental Kings, much like the humans, cared little for anything but themselves, valueing their freedom above all else. They roamed the land mercilessly on whims of amusement. Entire cities were wiped out overnight. Humans, dwarves, and elves all suffered.

The Dragons, seeing the potential for great disaster agreed it was in their best interest to impose rules upon the elements. They approached the Elemental Kings with reason and logic. Furious at the proposal, the elementals lashed out, attemping to annihilate the dragons. The dragons, suspecting the treachery of the elementals had already laid their plan in motion. The greatest leaders of the dragons banded together and formed the Dreamwalk, a sleep-like state of visions that would allow the dragons to control the power of the elements. Unable to retaliate against such might, the elementals were subdued one by one. Through the Dreamwalk came the Elemental Flow. The eternal balance of the elements and the wellspring of all magic. It is through the Elemental Flow that the dragons keep watch over Taborea, ensuring balance and harmony. Knowing that the elementals could not be destroyed, the dragons imprisoned them within the far corners of Taborea. Their prisons came to be known as The Thrones of Fire, Earth, Water, Wind, Light, and Darkness respectively. The Elemental Kings were allowed to retain some of their power, but could never again leave their Thrones.

Having spent much time monitoring the Elemental Flow, the dragons began to change. Those in charge of Earth, became the Earth Dragons. Those in charge of Light, became the Light Dragons. Over time, every dragon underwent this transformation, until all were one with the elements. The leaders among the dragons took their rightful places in Taborea, guarding the lands nearest the Thrones with their physical forms while protecting the Elemental Flow through their minds. Balance was restored to the world. For a time.

The group hurried through the final set of doors once the great guardian of harmony was felled. Crumpled in a heap, to rise no more. As the last person was through, the broad doors of bronze swung shut behind them, leaving the group in a dimly lit corridor.

"Well that was interesting." exclaimed Pwnager.

"I think you mean to say frustrating." corrected Boulder.

"Aww quit yer bellyachin'. Tha' was nuthin'." Chimed in Ghostling.

"So now what?" Breathed Tamun. The darkened Hallway contained another broad set of doors across from their position, but they remained firmly shut.

"We gotta wait." Was Ghostling's reply. The miniature Ghost picked a spot near the doorway, inserted a rune into a hidden facet and then leaned against the wall. The rest of the group likewise followed him and rested. Ghostling pointed at the door. "Sealed. Gotta wait for the rune to decipher the lock." Tamun grunted his affirmative.

Boulder crouched down beside the knight Pwnager and scratched his scraggly beard. "Soooo..." He began. "What in the name of all that is holy was that thing?"

The Ghostling merely shook his head and slapped his thigh. "That was Mantarick and Sydaphex."

"It was an interesting fight."

"Indeed." Came the Ghostling's reply. "In fact, it is representative of balance. Would you care to hear the story?"

Boulder threw up his hands. "Sure why not? Ain't got nothin better to do while we wait."

The Ghostling nodded and began. "The first construct we fought, Mantarick, represents light. Light is portrayed as the force of good, which is why the construct Mantarick is impervious to our attacks. Sydaphex represents darkness. It is darkness that we had to defeat." Ghostling paused, letting the words sink in. "For that fight, we were all weighted down with different hexes from Mantarick's magic. The hex colors represent Wind, Water, Fire, and Earth. By returning our hexes to their respective crystals, we fostered balance, causing Mantarick to shift into its darker form Sydaphex. The trial here teaches that it is only through balance that darkness can be defeated."

Tamun nodded thoughfully. "A trial that actually exceeds expectations it seems."

Boulder heard some mechanisms in the door click slightly, but the rune seemed unfinished with its job. "So why exactly are we chasin a rogue Ghost through these here Halls?" He finally said.

The Ghostling fidgeted with his gauntlets. He began slowly, instead responding with a question of his own. "Do you know the story of Maderoth?"

Boulder shrugged. "Just human legends."

Tamun gave his narrative. "Maderoth was the Demon Emperor of an age long past. He commanded vast armies of Naga, Demons, and twisted beasts so that he could enslave the whole of Taborea. Though Boulder is right, nothing in the archives suggest that this is an accurate viewing of history other than myth. Other than the Elemental Flow, nothing about about the Legend is factual."

Pwnager broke in , "The Elemental what?"

"The power of all magic." Came Tamun's response. "The lifeblood of arcane sciences. It all stems from The Elemental Flow. It is the balance of the elements. The arcane well that all beings can dip their minds in to summon the power of the elements themselves. Maderoth, all demons are supposedly beings of magic. They are the essence of darkness. The Legend goes, that when he and his armies made their campaign across the world, they upset that balance. There is a reason why Polython, The king of Water and the other Elemental Kings are bound to their thrones. If they were to break free, they would upset the elemental balance and bring chaos to the world. Water and Fire cannot exist without one another. If one element overshadows the other it throws the rest out of balance."

"Yes, but how was Maderoth defeated by this...Flow?" Queried Pwnager.

"The Dragons." Was his short reply. "The Dragons created and maintain this flow. It is said that when Maderoth began his rampage, the dragons were able to pierce the veil of darkness that no mortal army could. They destroyed Maderoth and his minions by counteracting his Darkness with the power of Light through the Flow." Tamun finished.

Pleased, Ghostling tapped his knuckles. "Yes, this is indeed the case. However, the fighting was not all done metaphysically. Some of the dragons and their allies engaged Maderoth's minions directly. They needed to buy time for the others. Many lost their lives in the process."

Pwnager sputtered, "You mean the Legend is true?"

Tamun sighed, "Of course it's not."

Ghostling furrowed his brow beneath his helmet. "Of course it's true you halfwits! This isn't some elven religion tree spirit hodgepodge. This is why the earth dragon, Scion Locface fashioned this armor for us. It was the only way we could fight back against the Demon Lord's forces."

Tamun looked at him with a hint of anger in his eyes. "You can't be serious? Even if the legend were true, that would make you a thousand years old."

Suddenly the massive doors to the final room creaked loudly before swinging inwards. The outline of the final guardian towered from within. And standing before the ancient construct, in brilliant green armor, stood Ghostlord.

Over the millenia, humans rose to dominance. Unhindered by the destructive forces of the elements, they were free to grow beyond their bounds. Humans who desired to study and learn about the power of magic formed two arcane societies known as the Eye of Wisdom and the Zurhidon. The Eye of Wisdom's interests concerned the careful study of practical arcane arts as well as the safeguard of knowledge deemed too dangerous for everyday use. The Zurhidon on the other hand were seekers of truth. Their order experimented with every aspect of magic possible, in turn handing over knowledge that they felt would be better protected under the Eye of Wisdom's watchful gaze. Over the years, both orders worked closely together to found the first magical runes.

It was through these runes that the humans, dwarves, and elves became united. The potential within these stones seemed limitless. The runes could absorb the nearby energies of nature, albeit in small quantities at a time. They were also free from most magical restrictions. The bearer of a rune would inherit its power so long as he was touching it. The longer one spent in the presence of his rune, the more powerful it would become. Talented smiths soon figured out the secrets of embedding runes safely into weapons and armors, allowing for a person to wield even greater power, without the need to physically hold the runes.

Eventually, the Zurhidon made a major breakthrough in their discoveries. They found that not only could the runes slowly absorb elemental power from around them, but that anything they were embedded in could also be imbued directly with pure magic essence in order to enhance their power. What this meant was that a person need not wait years upon years for a rune to grant them slightly higher wit or strength. They could now venture out and improve their armors, their weapons, bathrobes, and breeches. The peoples of Taborea soon flew into a frenzy trying to make themselves demigods. Armies were raised in the names of several different kingdoms in the facade of stopping one another from seizing powers from the other. In reality, every lord in every human realm wanted nothing but to claim the others lands, runes, and magics.

Troubled, the mages of the Zurhidon and the Eye of Wisdom attempted to stem the tide of the power mongering kingdoms. The elves, too prideful to fall victim to the trappings of power, joined the mages in stopping the human armies. The dwarves too stubborn to relent to petty squabbling over some stones, joined alongside the elves and mages. Despite their allies, the mages were hard pressed to stop the humans. Fearing annihilation, the Zurhidon released their secret creation, the Guardians. Unknown to the rest of the world, the Zurhidon had also found a way to embed powerful runes into titanic machines. Machines originally designed for construction, now re-purposed into machines of war.

The tides turned, but the alliance soon found themselves facing a newly united Human nation. The dwarves, seeing the flaw of only having a handful of titanic automated warriors fight for them, revised their plan of attack. With the help of the Zurhidon, the dwarven nation constructed fully automated war factories that churned out smaller, more efficient runic warriors. Not only did these machines contain multiple runes of power, but they were also physically fueled by liquid magic, a secret of the dwarves. Unlike their enormous cousins, their weaponry was specifically designed for destruction. Having bolstered their forces, the Alliance beat the Human nation back. For every guardian footsoldier destroyed, ten seemed to take its place. The human Kings, seeing the strain of the fighting on their kingdoms, soon agreed to a ceasefire to begin negotiations.

The Negotiations never took place. Something had awakened deep within the machine's programming. As the two fronts met and their leaders stepped forward, the guardians saw their chance. They turned on their creators, slaughtering them. Both armies panicked at the sudden turn of events and thousands died within the span of a couple hours. The survivors, Elves, Dwarves, Humans, and Mages banded together once more, united by a common foe.



The peoples of Taborea fought the machines for years. The newly formed Assembly of Taborea struck at the Guardians hard. They destroyed multiple factories and resource facilities, severely crippling their troop replenishment. It seemed that victory was in sight until an Eye of Wisdom scholar discovered the gargantuan constructs that were being assembled in the heart of the Guardian territory. Enormous Quadruped machines, fitted with weapons of mass destruction. When the first one came online, the world shook. They were thus named the Titans. The Titans turned the tide of the war back in favor of the machines. At the helm of their forces, the Titans were unstoppable.

The people of Taborea faced total annihilation as the mechanical armies began razing their cities. The Assembly of Taborea made one last stand at the heart of the human nation on Candara. As the massive constructs approached, the armies below saw a flash of golden light speed across the sky. The entity stopped, hovering above the skies of the battlefield. It unfurled its mighty wings, dazzling the land below in a mythical display of golden light. The Dragons, thought to be a myth to the peoples of Taborea had awoken from their slumber. The leader of the Light dragons let loose a terrible roar. In moments, the sky was blanketed with hundreds of its kin, their mighty flaps drowning out the whir of the machines, flattening the landscape's features under constant buffets of wind. The dragons rained fire and death from the skies, bringing and end to the machine threat.

Over the next thousand years, a few dragons left envoys behind to confer with the races of Taborea. The rest retreated to their domains. The dragons, having newly discovered these bipedal beings, took it upon themselves to take their own human and elven forms. This decision helped to ease tensions with the Humans who felt more at home talking to a dragon that looked like him or her. Bankelemos, leader of the Light Dragons, was the most well-respected dignitary between their species.

The Dwarves, caring little for the dragons, returned to their subterannean cities. The Elves, their numbers being hit the hardest, shrunk back into the forests. With the help of The Eye of Wisdom mages, the human began to rebuild their kingdoms. Runes of power were now kept under close guard by the orders and all knowledge pertaining to their creation locked away. Traders and merchants were forbidden from selling these runes under penalty of death. Only accomplished mages, warriors, and knights, as well as certain members of the clerical society allowed to use runes.

The Zurhidon, upon discovering that the Eye of Wisdom had begun rounding up runes, began to take their fair share as well. Only, they plucked their runes from the hearts of the dead guardians that had once been under their command. They then resumed their own work on runic magic, only this time in secrecy.

Unknown to all, was the festering blister on the world left by Sarku. It lie dormant for years, almost fading into dust until one day, it tasted blood. As wars rampaged across the land, this blister became a malignant tumor, eventually forming its own twisted entity. In the inky blackness of Sarku's blood rose the demon realm. The world of the demons expanded until it matched in size to that of Taborea, lying beneath it as an interdimensional portal to every wrongdoing Sarku could imagine. Shortly after the Titan Wars, when the demonic realm had tasted enough blood, it spewed forth its unearthly portals. Taborea soon became engulfed in fire and darkness as twisted, demonic creatures spilled forth from the guts of the underworld.

One demon in particular stood out among the rest. His name was Maderoth, a great evil that had ascended to the rank of Demon King through brutal savagery and bloodshed among his demonic bretheren. Maderoth and his armies were relentless. He swept through cities, killing and maiming, never pausing in his destruction. The dragons and humans fought back with tenacity. Despite their strength, many dragons fell. It was then that the Zurhidon unleashed their newfound weapon, the Supreme Runes. From their studies of the Dragons, the Zurhidon had found a way to bind extremely powerful magic essence directly from the Elemental Flow into these special runestones. The mages of the Zurhidon deployed these runes in a last ditch effort against the demon hordes.

Drawing upon the entirety of the Elemental Flow, the runes spilled forth great energy across the land. At once, the energy flooded into the demon realm, uttery destroying it. However, the other results were less than satisfactory for the runes followed the principle of balance. In vanquishing darkness, the runes sought to purify the rift caused by the destruction of the demon realm. As the great circle of Supreme Runes expelled their energy, their physical forms melded with their magic. Instead of destroying themselves, the runes exploded outwards in a flash of blinding light, scattering across Taborea. Half of Maderoth's demon horde were engulfed in the magical energies, destroying them. Some demons though, found themselves empowered by the energies while a couple, more powerful demon lords found a burning hole in their chests. Wherein lay a Supreme Rune. Empowered by these runes, the demonic horde continued its onslaught.

Eventually, the fighting reached the dwarves. Within their stronghold of Taffrock, the shadowforge priests discovered a glowing object that had struck through the cavern of their city. Desperate and close to defeat, the priests harnassed the power of this unknown rune, bolstering the abilities of every dwarf in their realm. The dwarves became living vessels of pure darkness. They struck out with fire and shadow, obliterating Maderoth's assault force. However, just as the battle seemed won, the dwarves, struck by the random effects of the rune began to freeze in place as their strength was sapped from them. Amused, Maderoth cackled maniacallly as every last dwarf was turned to stone before his very eyes. Next, Maderoth moved on to the Dragons.

With the power of the Elemental Flow disrupted, the dragons had great difficulty striking back at Maderoth's remaining forces. Maderoth, seeing victory in sight, launched an all out assault on the dragon lairs. The leaders of the Dragons summoned forth their elite guard to protect them while they began the Dreamwalk. If they could repair the Elemental Flow, they would be able to crush Maderoth's forces. The Great Dragon of Light, Bankelemos and the Sinister Dragon of Darkness, Sayafiz took charge of the mindscape of the Dreamwalk while the other dragons protected them.

It was during this great battle that Kadmos, Scion Locface, and Gestero were forever changed. As Maderoth attacked, Kadmos led the water dragons in the defense of their western flank. He lost his son in the conflict. Gestero, hot headed and with a fiery temperament, even for a dragon, was critically wounded while attempting to counterattack Maderoths troops from the rear. His assault was partially successful for it gave Scion Locface the edge he needed. Seperated from the rest of his kind, the Earth Dragon, Scion Locface stood face to face with the Demon Lord, Maderoth. Locface fought ferociously against the demon, battering and bruising the abomination severely. Amused, Maderoth vowed to make Locface's death most horrific.

Enraged, Locface lunged forward, grasping the Demon Lord between his teeth. Not expecting the attack, Maderoth was surprised when he noticed one of the monsterous fangs had pierced his heart. Maderoth quickly phased out of the dragon's maw and stabbed the dragon full in the chest, right in its very own heart. Grinning, Maderoth leaned forward and whispered something inaudible to the dying dragon. Scion Locface, not giving into death so easily, hooked his right paw over Maderoth's head. The Demon King attempted to phase out of his body once more but was stuck. Maderoth looked beyond the earth dragon and noticed The dragons Bankelemos and Sayafiz rise. Or was it Dragon...Maderoth could not tell. They/It pointed a head in his direction. The Dreamwalk was finished, the Elemental Flow restored. Maderoth felt elemental energies surging through his body, tearing him apart. His last thoughts turned to that of the dragon still grasping him tightly within its clawed hand. His eyes furrowed with rage. Maderoth refused to be claimed by death.

As the last of the demons were destroyed, a lone figure stood out on the hillside, far from the fighting. It smirked before turning its cloaked shoulder, disappearing from sight.