Shards Of History

[*WhenWizardsWar]

"A line between lines"

"RETREAT! ALL COMPANIES, FULL WITHRAW!" General Edmund Scar shouted, his horse zooming along the line of troops to his left, sweat beading down the flesh of both him and his steed.

Men and beast had been clashing for nearly sixteen hours on the front, both the generals army and that of the mysterious lord Ulnik, armies comprised of man and beast respectively. The field was soaked with blood caked into a thick muddy soil thanks to rain earlier that day, mud blood and so many dead and dieing.

It looked like Ulniks army had about to break and retreat for the day, this gave Scars men a surge in morale, a surge the general knew they had needed.

Then -they- arrived.

As human sword clashed against ogre and giant axe, a sudden sinking feeling of utter dread and terror washed over both sides with such intensity it was -almost- visible. General Scar looked to the north to find the source of the feeling and beheld a sight that threatened to turn his heart cold. The sky held two dragons strafing both sides of the conflict, breathing waves of hideous and foul energy that shriveled flesh and bone and fouled the very ground underneath it, causing the mud to boil and blister like some fetid evil swamp water. The sound of weapons being dropped was like a clash of thunder in the air as combatants on all sides tossed their weapons and shields aside as they turned and fled back their respective strongholds.

General Scars horse and himself were no different, fear and terror had gripped the mans heart and he too sped for the safety of his iron fortress high in the cliffs of mount Gryk. His horse had stumbled sometime during the retreat, its leg tripped and broken in several places, throwing him a good ten feet forward. He reached up to take the hand one of his soldiers had offered him, his face widening in awe then the appendage slid from its socket, the flesh rotten and decaying. He looked up to see malevolent red points of light in the eyes of the soldier and with out hesitation grabbed a nearby sword and heaved it with a mighty swing which removed the head from the walking corpse. He staggered to his feet and looked back towards the front line, gaping in horror as the twin dracolichs made another pass, bathing the field in even more foul light, his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest as the dead began to rise by the hundreds...


Later that day, he stood facing half a dozen familiar faces, indeed men and women he owed his very life too. He listened to them tell their reasons for being and frowned as one of them, who he knew people simply called "Doc" spun a tale about Sammaster and a plan the lich was undertaking that certainly spelled doom for everyone and everything on Illia...

The group was given bed and board, medical supplies and what ever ammenties they required within reason, and when they retired the general moved from the throne room of his fortress to the balcony which looked down over his holdings. He sighed as his chief advisor joined him in surveying the two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, watching as the last hundred or so made their way inside the gates of the massive iron fortress where they were secure...and safe...at least he hoped. The two of them then looked east, far across the way where he imagined lord Ulniks horde likewise boarding up the gates and walls while their leaders contemplated this new turn of events.

For the first time in almost three months since the war broke out on Illia it is gifted with a night absent of the sounds of war, the only echos heard are the sounds of dead men standing upright and grabbing what ever gear they can salvage while two malevolent dragons circle over head....

[*Nimiane]

As things settle into a state of apprehensive peace within the four walls, various conversations are held between the six occupants; some shared openly over tea and others whispered in quiet corners. Odette herself had been engaged in such with Vyse, her features flicking through a myriad of expressions in the process; anger, concern, shame, determination, grief. The conversation is a solemn one, but any eyes that would pass they by could easily assume it was an honest one. Troubled, but heart-felt.

"I thought this w-was about saving lives f-for you, not taking them."

As a few hours pass and spoken words reflected upon with furrowed brow, the bardess moves to gently approach each of their other companions in an attempt to draw them together for a brief group discussion while the opportunity was present. Once all are gathered, and apologies are offered for disrupting conversation and/or sleep, Odette runs a few fingers through her hair as she was prone to do when stressed or deeply pensive.

"Arrite. Sah as ye are well aware, we're in a bit of a situation." she states neutrally, brows pinched slightly as she gestures to the four walls around them. Having not removed her armor by choice, it's mailed links clinked near-silently with the movements. "I be thinkin' it wise t'get everyone on t'same page, an' decide how t'move forward frem here."

Her aquamarine gaze dips and weaves over the features and expressions of those gathered.

[*Brindas]

Brindas rather coldly looks about the group, one time. His blue eyes look at nothing in particular when he responds.
"You certainly could put it that way. What is the current plan? Scar is inviting us to a meeting on the morning, and I am certain it will be very secure."
He looks down to his feet, crossing his arms and then not looking at anyone again unless specifically addressed.

[*MadJackValance]

Vyse stood upon the stage of a grand, ornately decorated theater. All the audience sat in the dim light in their best finery with faces obscured by lavish masquerade masks. It was a dream he had had before, a recurring one that happened maybe once every few months. It was always his final song and, though in this fiction he played it effortlessly, the tune was elusive and nebulous. It was his masterpiece, a song he had yet to write, but still he poured every bit of himself into summoning it forth for the masked onlookers. As the soulful melody would begin to wind down, there was always a peaceful moment where he and Ruby were in perfect harmony, where he felt every gaze, and breath, and smile in the audience. A hazy moment where he swayed and sang, aware of all the empty space around him on the stage ,aware of how it seemed to warm and surround him. And despite that empty space on the stage, he felt anything but alone.

As Vyse and Ruby resolved the final note there was a brief sigh of silence before the applause came, and it always did in this dream. It climbed like a roaring wave to the tall ceiling, coursing and overflowing from the balconies until it crashed down upon the stage washing over the delighted tiefling. This was always when the drizzle of roses began to land upon the stage around him. The ruddy bard's solitary, golden eye panned over his adoring audience as they praised him, but his smile faltered for a quick beat, he glimpsed something different, a happening unfamiliar in this particular fantasy. A handful of people in the front row gleefully lifted their masks, and beneath he saw the smiling familiar faces of friends. Argent, Quinn, Odette, Brindas, Greg, and amongst them an empty seat. Vyse's expression of surprise quickly gives way to an overwhelming, unabashed simper. His gaze flicks to his left, offstage, where a beaming, fanged smile awaits; Terika! And her pride in him is apparent in her fond gaze. It was perfect. The lot of them together, all smiling and happy, but the bard's eye slowly drew itself to the empty seat, lingering curiously as the red carnations lobbed from the crowd accumulated. Then suddenly his attention was wrenched to the stage before him. Among the scattered roses, in bold and brilliant contrast, laid a solitary sunflower. The tiefling drew a silent gasp as his eye lifted to find the source, frantically panning the seats, and just as it happened every time with this particular dream...

Vyse gently started awake with Odette's careful grasp on his shoulder. She explained her reason for rousing him from slumber, to gather the group together. The drowsy bard simply nodded, the words only partially comprehended in his waking state.

After a few minutes pass the tiefling found himself among the rest of the dwelling's assembled inhabitants. His dusky yellow iris briefly glimpsing each of their faces to guage their condition, until finally it followed Odette as she paced before the group, preparing to speak. The bardess, tasked to lead them, she was obviously and understandably stressed. Vyse's expression couldn't conceal his concern, but it could show along with it something else; that he was proud of her.

Things had not gone smoothly when the two trios met those handful of hours before. Vyse believed that as a team, as friends, the lot of them could handle anything. Their reuniting, however, was one fouled by brashly uttered words, tactless truths, and thoughtless exaggerations. The arguments rattled Vyse's resolve, and planted a tight, dense knot of regret in his chest. He wasn't mad at anyone, the sentimental bard was simply hurt and troubled by the discord between his comrades. It was in the quiet hours of the night, he got a chance to converse with his fellow bard and former sailor.

The ruddy fellow's thoughts drifted to a conversation he had shared with Odette in Sigil after particularly trying times in both their lives. She spoke of passion, rediscovering it and using it, and now, here on Ilia, he saw it in her for true. The problem was that this passionate flame of hers was awry, stoked by an angry wind. It wasn't the sort of flame that warmed, excited, and illuminated, it was the sort that razed, rampaged, and ruined. Though he was reluctant, Vyse shared his thoughts and worries honestly, no masks, no pretense, and he knew that if he spoke sincerely she wouldn't turn his words away.

Now, seeing Odette ready to take the helm, the crew assembled and seemingly willing to cooperate, and Quinn's condition having improved, Vyse was hopeful. By all accounts he should have been cautiously optimistic, but couldn't afford to be, he had to believe they could do this, and that they would. All of them, together.

"You could certainly put it that way..." Brindas remarked. Vyse blinked a few times in surprise, having absentmindedly drifted through the beginning of their conference. The bard sat up a little straighter, hoping no one had noticed, and with a final thought to himself he offered his full attention to the briefing.

They could do this. It would take more than armies numbering in the thousands, comet crazed dragons, and a few petty disagreements to capsize their friendships. Boosting morale would take some doing, and they may have stood to inherit one another as burdens, but they also stood to share in their strengths...

[*Nimiane]

As everyone gets settled into something of a comfortable position, Odette riffles through her now tattered and worn satchel to withdraw a small stack of parchment. Her thumb pulls along her jaw and taps twice on her chin as she flips through the documents briefly. With a long exhale, her gaze lifts to the group once more and weaves over each of them.

"It's likely best iffen we start with what we know, but it ain't exactly easy t'explain. I'll try an' be brief, but do speak up iffen there's any questions an' certainly if ye have thoughts on t'matters at hand." she begins to explain in a solemn tone, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose briefly before returning to the stack of parchment.

"Basically. . . ? Nae shite that Sammaster is bad news, if t'rumors of home are correct, well. . . he's a chosen of Mystra whom turned t'necromancy an' became a lich. Him an' his two pets - Ignition an' Inferno - are currently huntin' down the King Killer Comet; that big flamin' ball in t'sky what makes dragon and their kin furious as all hells. We believe it's got somethin' to do with it or parts of it bein' used in an elixer fer dracolichdom, though a'course that's speculation on our part. Sammaster's right hand "man" goes by t'name of Ulnik, though it's possible this is a moniker fer Sammaster himself. According t'Brindas, apparently Sammaster has also been masqueradin' as a merchant of poisoned goods or something. . .?" her gaze falls on Brindas momentarily, head cocked slightly to the side as if encouraging him to speak on it once she was done. "Also, iffen what. . . we saw in t'woods is any indication, Sammaster is preparin' fer some kind of coronation ceremony."

Brow's knitting with a heavy expression, the bardess takes a few restless strides to the drum of thudding boots on the wooden floor. Threading her fingers through sandy coloured locks of hair, she casts a glance to the window and the scurry of troops in the dimming light of eve, before turning her attention back to the group.

"On the other side, we got General Scar. Mercenary Captain turned General. We first encountered him on a prime we ended up on some months passed after following some addled berk to a portal. Him and his men were there protectin' some nobles, whilst Inferno and Ignition blew the place t'bits. If I recall correctly, there were fire giants as well whom were goin' after the sulfur in the mines, believed t'be restockin' after various explosions happened around Sigil. We pulled Scar an' his men t'the safety of Sigil and gave 'em jink t'start a new life. Right?" her gaze darts briskly from one face to the next, her gestures becoming less subtle as she becomes wrapped up with her own recounting, not waiting for an answer.

"Only it don't end there. Turns out that portal we went through, well. If the chronomancers that came after us are right, it were a portal that took us back in time to a point when Scar was supposed to have died. By savin' his life, we altered the timeline an' Scar went on t'take over a'hundred thousand lives in his conquest of t'prime Orculus, buildin' up his army."

Pausing briefly, Odette's free hand moves to the near-empty flask at her hip and works it free of it's leather holster before continuing."An. . ." another pause, this time flicking briefly through the pages with her pink of the hand wrapped around the cannister, searching for the name that had eluded her. "Inspector Chronus with division six of Temporal Instability Accuracy Management Equalisers. . . . mentioned that iffen Scar was slain, it would undo t'damage he'd done by livin'. He stated it were imperative Scar were slain by either goin' back t'that point in time and nae savin' him or putting him down at present or we were in danger of bein' rewritten ourselves. Cannae save Scar if we ne'er existed, can we? At any rate, it's somethin' else t'be mindful of." Handing the stack of parchment to Vyse, she makes a gesture with a flick of her wrist and a nod, encouraging for him to read them before passing them on to everyone present.

With the break in discussion, she finally unscrews the lid of her flask and drains the rest of it's amber contents with a soft exclamation of satisfaction. For a brief moment an expression of anger flickers across her weary countenance, before dissolving just as quickly. Once the parchment has been handed around and everyone has taken the time to read it's contents, Odette hops back to land her rear atop the stack of supply crates.

"That brings us t'the present an' our reason fer comin' in t'first place. Accordin' to t'T.I.M.E Guardians, Scar allegedly went on with the jink we have him and began his new life as a tyrant. Now I met with Scar in the Bazaar some few cycles before headin' here. Apparently he were lookin' fer me an' the others whom. . ." she pauses briefly, a possible thought clicking as her gaze danced in Quinn's direction. Finger briefly tapping her chin in contemplation, she continues " . . he believed were behind a number of assassination attempts on his person. When I asked him about t'lives he'd taken, Scar reckoned he killed all them innocents 'cause they were workin' under Ulnik or somethin', then said he had information on the twins we did nae know. He offered t'meet with me an' any other 'heroes' I could enlist t'discuss it further. Sah after he told me what t'portal key was and how t'get here, well. . . that's why we're here."

"Now. Originally t'plan were t'use Scar an' his legion against Sammaster an his army, doin' away wit' both in the process. A Lich an' a murderer, two birds with one stone and savin' many lives in t'process. It were nae a plan that were looked down favorably on, mind ye. Using one evil t'fight another. Regardless, we went a different route anyway." the woman's words trail off as her fingers idle in the space where her rapier had previously hung on her hip, curling slowly into a fist as they found empty space rather than the comfort of her gifted weapon. Her jaw tightens momentarily, slender hand moving back to her lap with a frown. "Once us four had gotten t'the camp, our plan were t'drain Scar of this information and put an end t'his miserable existence. He's a man what cast his die when he chose slaughter an' remains remorseless fer it. Bein' mercenaries, it made sense that they'd default t'us what with him nae bein' able t'pay them anymore - as Kelth put it, they're sheep that'll back down once the head of t'snake is removed."

Odette takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly until it had completely emptied from her lungs. Once again, her turquoise gaze pulls over each of those present, lingering on their expressions in the hope that it might give her some insight into their current thoughts.

"I know I dun need t'speak on how dire a situation this is, but we need t'get everyone properly positioned an' agreein' on a course of action t'succeed. It ain't exactly clear as crystal though, naturally. Quinnie, perhaps ye could mention yer own thoughts on t'matter in regards to Scar? Ye could explain it much better than I could, and Argent can offer his expertise in the area as well once voiced." A few fingers lift and gesture to the elderly mage and snowy-haired elf, a weary but encouraging expression on her tan features.

"Unless someone else wants t'go first?"

_{(( Documents can be found at the top of page one ))}

[*DigitalDragoon]

Having been turned around to face the others, The rocking chair by the fire creaks softly. Quinn listens to the summary offered, taking the moment to survey the others present. Most of their companions are offered a look of encouragement, though Brindas' seemingly sullen behavior gives him pause. He watches the man for a few moments longer then the others, rubbing at the back of his hand worriedly. His attention eventually shifts back to the topic at hand. A faint smile twitches into place as a look of brief comprehension appears to dawn on Odette.

"Very well. It is my suspicion that the hospitable general may be a key player in the coming conflict. Someone clearly wants him dead."

He shifts abit in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, fingers lacing.

"Supposedly these agents of T.I.M.E. have been threatening to undo other people's timelines just to fix one. Now Argent would be the one likely understand the potential logistical issues of such a thing, but such at least sounds terribly wasteful. If they have that sort of power, why not simply prevent the rescue themselves? Minimize damage? That Scar has mentioned multiple assassination attempts suggests they are incapable of it."

His head tilts slightly, gazing skimming over those gathered for a moment or two before continuing.

"On such a note, how would killing someone in the present undo the tragedies of the past? Nothing these..Agents..have said seems plausible. It makes their legitimacy highly questionable.

What we do know is that he is a powerful opponent to Ulnik, Who's agents we know to have at least some experience in temporal meddling. Khazeet was recorded as associating them with a group know as the...What was it? The Clockworkers or some such?" He motions toward the pile of notes in Odette's grasp "A some of their explosives were marked as such if I recall correctly. Thus with the information presented, It seems entirely plausible that both groups are one in the same. A ruse."

Taking a deep breath, he lets out a long sigh. His voice picks up as he reachs the final component of his thoughts on the matters, making a few wide gesticulations in the process.

"It is my theory that the raid from which this conflict supposedly stems might have just been the first of many assassination attempts. I believe it was their goal to slay Scar under the guise of gathering resources. It was a portal to the past, after all. What an easier way to get rid of a rival then to strike them down before they can interfere?

Our questions here should be; What role he has to play in this, Who Ulnik really is, and What is it that Scar hopes to gain from this war."

Finally he grows quiet again. Leaning back once more, he waits to see what everyone thinks of the matters. The rocking chair resuming it soft creaking.

[*Lucadia]

The tacit elf that been remaining to the back of the room in a meditative trance, slowly roused at first from the commotion and chaos, muttering under his breath : "All the Kings Magi and all the Kings Griffons, could not keep the comet from falling again. ." before springing to life at the earth tearing rukus.

Intensity of the shaking made him grab to the wall and brace himself, unsure weather they was about to live through the event.

"By the name of Silvanost, I feel the Gods are about launch another mountain to bury Ishtar for the King-Priests hubris . . ": He then shakes his head, and stumbles for the door after the final rements of shaking and explosion subsided. He stands next to Odette, slacked jaw at the implications of the missing falling star, then looks back toward the group.

And here shall we converge, get packed, that fallen star be our guide tonight!

And just as if he had forgotten the terror for the moment, his voice ringed with excitement of the unknown.

[*Brindas]

Brindas nods firmly after the older man speaks, his arms still crossed and gaze on the floor.

"Thank you, Quinn. I too wondered how killing him in the present would fix anything in the past, but there again, I have always believed that temporal mechanics and their meddling is the surest way to headaches, cancer, and lunacy. If I've said it once, I have said it a thousand times: I hate temporal mechanics."

"To that end, however, I can still support a plan that eliminates him. I have not been for aiding one side in this endeavor from the beginning, because I do not believe aiding one evil to stop another works well - excepting, of course, when one evil is minor. While I can agree perhaps Ulnik and Samaaster are more evil than Scar, his evil is still too far reaching to be an acceptable ally."

"However, I believe that Samaaster is the greatest threat. And eliminating Scar before killing Samaaster could aid the Cult. Therefore, my most preferred course of action is dealing with the cult first. However, I will hear any counter arguments and I could certainly be dissuaded. Ultimately, I will do as the leader decides, of course, as is my place."

Brindas looks to the floor with a calculating, cold, and dead expression.

[*WhenWizardsWar]

That night, as the group sat up discussing what to do, shouts of confusion and alarm begin to race audibly through the massive iron fortress, the magical candle lights that illuminate the keep flicker and die then spring back to life, the group finds their many and powerful magical items begin to dim and even fade, losing their magic temporarily. The men protecting the fortress begin to shout about a disturbance in the night air, all the group can make out due to the closed door to their balcony is something about a falling star.

If any one in the party should run and open the door to the balcony then all within the room can see the tail end of a fiery projectile hurtling through the sky on a rapid angel of descent, many a gaze that night follows the flaming and smoking projectile as it smashes into the side of the great smoking mountain to the north, punching a hole in the side of the mountain and sending a tremor ripping through the land that shakes Illia for a solid ten minuets before the earth finally settles down.

The smoking mountain now pours forth a black cloud even faster and thicker then it has been since the party arrived on Illia.....

And the king killer comet is no where in sight.

[*Nimiane]

Odette's gaze pulls up from the group sharply, first darting to the nearby window to peer through the curtain and then to the door as she leapt down from the wooden crates with a slightly alarmed expression. Landing with a thud, she takes a few strained steps forward and frowns briefly as her fingers brush over her belt with a measure of confusion on her freckled features that flicker in shadow with the waning of the candlelight.

"Somethin' ain't right. . ." the bardess voices her concern warily as she attempts to shake it off, moving in a slightly sluggish manner, but with brisk pace to the door. Flinging it open without a second thought, she takes a single step back as her jaw slackens and aquamarine eyes widen in both horror and awe. "Fok-HIT THE DECK!" is all she manages to bellow before the tremors start.

Odette throws herself to the ground in the open doorway with a thump, arms looped over her head to protect it from any falling debris and hoping like mad her companions were doing the same. As the tremors growled their chaotic roar and shook the very foundations of their wooden abode, already Odette's mind was racing ever forward. For better or worse, a disturbance that intense in it's ferocity would be as a beacon to the prime, drawing friend and enemy alike as if they were moths to flame.

A signal for all; for Sammaster, for Scar . . and for Kelth.

Their path had been made clear.