the MOSIAC
EPISODE 10

The door to the room shuddered again under a tremendous impact; the multicolored glow surrounding the doorway began to flicker.

"Crap crap crap!" yelled the mage to Nynko. "Do you have anything else that might hold it off?!?!"

"That’s the best ward I have!" the priest screamed as another powerful blow to the door shook the room and knocked both of them from their feet.  As Nynko unsteadily stood, he pointed to the small window at the back of the room. "Look, it's only a four story fall if we jump from here!  Just leave the damn chest!”

"OPEN UP ASSHOLES!  I CAN SMELL YOUR STOLEN MAGIC!" came the thunderous roar from outside the door as a couple of hinges broke loose and the wood began to splinter, the shifting radiance almost completely gone.

Nynko glared at the wizard.

"Not me this time! I swear!" Gahnt yelled, eyes wide.

Another hinge went flying off the door and a huge crack now ran down the center. The aura flickered a few more times and then went out.

"Screw that! I've had as much of this as I can take." said Gahnt, irritated as hell. "Find cover." he told the priest as he dug through the chest and pulled out an old and tattered scroll.  With great care he rolled it open and began to read the ancient words of power.

Nynko threw himself across one of the beds near the corner as living flames of red and black erupted everywhere. 

The door finally shattered and he glimpsed a huge, dark figure with eyes like dying suns rushing into the room.

Uttering a string of creative profanities, Nynko dove into the space between the wall and the bed, heaving the mattress and frame on top of him while he frantically began layering himself under every defensive spell he had. The drums thundered, the lightning fell, and his makeshift fortress was torn asunder, disintegrating into hundreds of pieces.

In the center of the room stood Gahnt, a black aura crackling around him like some dark god as he completed the scroll and released the awful magic into the broken and terrible creature.

Nynko thought he saw the moon high overhead as the building was ripped apart.  Then the blackness rose up before him and fell upon him like dark wave.

the MOSIAC
EPISODE 9

It had been a morning to shake the mountain of heaven.

The sun stood high in the sky as Gahnt and Whisper made their way back to the Blunt Cutlass laughing and drunkenly swaying. 

Despite it being relatively early in the day, especially for those two, each reeked of strange and exotic scents and cheap wine. 

Their nocturnal activities from the previous night had gone off smoothly for a change and both had wanted to blow a little of their newfound capital on various pleasures in town that morning in celebration. 

Uncharacteristically, Nynko had abstained from the merryment. 

While the chaos priest rarely turned down an opportunity to burn through ill-gotten money on a good time, there had been unusual rumbling in the chaos pantheon recently.  The short priest had wanted to find out what was going.  The moment they had gotten back to their room and dumped their gear, Nynko prepared himself for spiritual journey with various hallucinogens.  Without so much as a word to his friends, he went into a trance in corner of the room facing the wall without bothering to remove his armor.

Whisper just shrugged to Gahnt and the two went on to embrace the morning with a pocketful of coin and a desire to melt their brains and morals gloriously.

As the two stumbled around the corner onto their street with their goal accomplished, they saw a flash of green light from the window of the room they rented above the tavern that served as their home. A moment later, Nynko came flying backwards out the window like a ragdoll, shattering glass and taking out much of the wall in the process. He landed in a crumpled heap in front of Whisper and Gahnt, his armor showing numerous dents and blast marks.

 

"...ouch..." came a weak moan from the injure priest before he passed out.

"Balls!" Gahnt cursed as Whisper started to move forward to help their friend.

"KEEP YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM THAT TRAITOR!"

Whisper and Gahnt both looked up to see a huge shadowy figure standing in the hole where their window used to be. Almost the size of Whisper, the massive figure stepped forward into the light. The blond haired, giant man wore an armor that was almost identical to Nynko's save it was of the brightest silver and unlike their companions, clean and undamaged. In his hands, he held a huge hammer, it's stone head burning with green flames. He raised the warhammer high in the air and with a mighty warcry,  jumped forward, hurtling downward toward the injured priest...

...only to be caught midair by the mother of all lightning bolts which blasted him back through the hole, through the roof in an explosion of wood and stone and then out the backside of the building.

"Go fuck yourself." said Gahnt to the rapidly diminishing figure, casually blowing the smoke from his fingertips. Whisper blinked rapidly trying to regain his vision.

"A little warning next time..." the druid rumbled.

"Sorry bro, one of those spur of the moment th.." was all the wizard was able to get out.

Suddenly, there was a small explosion of air to Gahnt's right and the huge figure appeared in his smoking silver armor, swinging his immense warhammer unbelievably fast, catching the startled wizard dead center in the chest. Whisper eyes went wide as Gahnt's body seemed to cave in around the hammer. The impact sent the shirtless mage sailing far across the street, ricocheting off a building, before landing on the ground, unmoving and silent.

For what seemed an eternity, the huge druid and the giant man stood staring at each other, sizing each other up.  Whisper's hand went to his massive blade.

The man licked his lips nervously.

"I don't know what you are and I don't care. I'm here for him. The Goddess demands the betrayer's heart." the armored man said, pointing at Nynko. "Stay out of it and you won't get hurt."

Whisper looked at Gahnt's prone body and then at Nynko's and snarled.

"I don't know what cheap bitch you worship, but you fucked with the wrong people this time." he growled, drawing his blade.

"Your priest is unconscious, your wizard crippled...I don't think you can defeat me alone demon." the armored man said, his eyes narrowing dangerously and glanced at Nynko before looking back to Whisper. "Walk away, that piece of shit isn't worth dying over.  I don't what crap he sold you on, but there's nothing about that one worth saving."

"He's my friend.  That's all the reason I need."

The man nodded and raised his hammer. "So be it.  I'll make this quick."

Whisper threw back his head and howled.

Whisper's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Muscles ripped, bones snapped and reformed, bone spikes began protruding down his spine, his shoulders, his arms. His growl deepened as his chest swelled. Long and wicked claws extended out and his teeth and horns grew longer and sharper. He screamed in fury as all he was, all his thoughts, were lost in a primitive red haze. All that was left was the anger, the rage and the smell of blood.

"I...was...thinking... the same thing..!" came the barely understandable growl.

Whisper roared and blurred into motion, claws and teeth shining like razors, his blade a thing of bright beauty as it arced high against the noonday sun...

the Mosiac
EPISODE 8

On a glass throne as black as the heart of the woman who sat upon it, the first and last Empress sat with a look of cold irritation upon her face. Those who dared to look upon her could almost find her beautiful... too beautiful. From her perfect pale flesh to the angles of her high cheekbones below shining eyes, were seemingly sculpted by the same skilled hand that that had carved her obsidian throne. Her face seemed alone atop her dark, high seat, so black was her hair, her high collared dress, that only her deliberate and delicate motions and subtle reflections off the single gray gem in her high, shadowy crown, distinguished the rest of her from the darkness of her throne.

But the illusion of beauty ended quickly.

Anything that was once alive, anything that spoke of that small spark of genuine human emotion had long since passed in the millennium she had sat there ruling the Empire. She had no friends, no lovers, nothing but the Empire. Once, it was said, there had been more. Once, it was said, the hint of a smile had crossed her face.

No one believed these rumors. Her powers were vast and dark and cold as the Empire itself.

The few who entered the ironically bright courts of shining crystal and bleached stone were her own creations. Once people, often enemies, they had become slaves to her dark will. All had felt her dispassionate hand, infused with the power of her knowledge of Twelve spells to remake the world north of the Bright Line. They existed now only to serve her and her terrible desires, remade and resurrected to be an extension of her will with no thoughts other than to please her.
Such was the price to be paid by those who grew too powerful within her empire.

One of those creations now was prostrate before her.

"Legate... you have failed me." she said simply as her cold voice echoed throughout the vast chamber.

Within the many dark plates of his rune inscribed armor, the massive figure stirred uneasily from the floor. The skull surrounded by translucent flesh looked up at his dread Empress and pulsed with subdued blue flames. "The city was an unfortunate loss, but the situation had escalated..."

"Ahm Pur is of no consequence. Those who survived will breed and rebuild. I am talking about the your failure to capture the former battle spell named Gahnt."

The twin dark stars that served as the Legates eyes seemed to wilt under her gaze. "I have no excuses. I underestimated Gahnt and thought to have those under my command deal with him rather than taking a direct hand. It will not happen again." the Legate answered.

"No, it will not. This Gahnt will either serve the Empire or be ended. He somehow managed to avoid our notice through his apparent complete lack of motivation to do anything beyond stumble from place to place with the fools he calls friends. However, despite his efforts or lack thereof, such power does not rest easily nor remain quiet."

"No milady, it does not." The Legate replied, knowing that all to well. Once, so long ago, he had dreamed of something more before he had attracted her dark attentions. Had he known what fate such lust for power would bring he would long before have ended his own existence before she had inflicted this dark fate upon him.

"Legate, you have served me well in your function, but this requires a more delicate hand. You are the hammer and the anvil of the Empire. This Gahnt requires the fine hand of a surgeon."

"Am I not to pursue him further?" he asked without any anger or disappointment. Her will was all and he would not, could not, dispute it.

"Yes, the hunt still continues, but I have decided to bring in a specialist who is well familiar with Gahnt and his allies to aid you..." her delicate pale hand raised slightly and a shimmering crystal curtain covering an alcove to her immediate right slowly opened. "I believe you know Lord Karm..."

A man stepped from the shadows of the alcove and bowed low to the Empress. He nodded sharply to the Legate.

"Well met again Legate. I look forward to working with you once more." The man in the wooden armor said, bright teeth flashing within a wolfish smile...

the Mosiac 

EPISODE 7

Within the dense mist, a lone voice quietly broke the silence.

"I swear Gahnt, one day I'm going to put my foot so far up your ass that you'll taste the crap on my toes." Whisper grumbled as Nynko wrapped another bandage around the warrior druid.

Under the small floating pale light Nynko had summoned, Gahnt gave Whisper his best apologetic look.

"Look Whisp, I'm really sorry...' the battlemage began only to be cut off by a dark look from the druid.

"Yeah... yeah. It's just that every time you dump flaming death nearby, it's my ass that catches on fire."

"Well bro..." Nynko added carefully, "you are awfully big and usually in the middle of it. Maybe you should invest in a good suit of armor or a bow." Nynko said, lightly tapping his ancient and well-used collection of platemail pieces.

Whisper gave the Chaos priest an even darker look. "How about I pick you up and starting using you as a missle next time?"

"Or not." Nynko concluded, resuming his bandaging.

"And what the hell was that thing with the big orange eye?" The huge druid asked the small, dark skinned, priest. "I almost shit myself when I looked up and saw that thing leering at me."

"Oh..." Nynko replied, looking both left and right as if he might be overheard, "That was Ithxpictic. Old God thing, before man walked the lands, way back when the world was a way different place, blah blah, blah. Occasionally some nutcase finds some preserved tome or some similar crap and starts up some derranged and twisted cult in the middle of nowhere." Nynko glanced briefly at the gray gloom all around. "Like this place."

"Fucksticks." Gahnt swore. "How much trouble are we in?"

"Usually some law god sniffs out crap like this and sends a small army of his meatheads to 'cleanse with fire' everyone in a couple of leagues of where it started." Nynko replied. "But as for the specifics, I dunno. Ithxpictic was only mentioned in passing in some text I was supposed to be studying. I only remembered because there's not a lot of one hundred foot tall cones with a big orange eye and a thousand arms."

"Are his followers big on revenge?" Whisper asked.

Nynko shrugged in his heavy armor. "Not more than anyone else after our asses. Still, I understand that they are into some really weird shit and we just killed a bunch of them..."

Whisper nodded not wanting to know what 'weird shit' entailed. "Yeah, we should get moving. Are we still going doing the deep run? What are you guys thinking?"

"I'd rather be drinking and banging away on some whores." The priest of chaos replied.

"About going on with this?" Whisper rumbled while resisting the urge to punch Nynko.

"Might as well." Gahnt said quickly. "We need the money and these guys probably think we teleported the way the fuck out of here. As long as we keep moving, we should be okay…. if you can find the way to the temple." He motioned for Whisper to take the lead.

Whisper sighed. "Isn't this the sort of thinking that usually gets us in trouble?" The druid asked in general as they headed off into the swirling mist.

Soon after, something dark and shambling slowly made its way out of the fog and followed after.

the Mosiac 

EPISODE 6

The undead thing waited in the darkness.

When the young, half-naked wizard entered the abandoned mine shaft, a place of rotted wood and deep shadows, the creature first assumed it was some foolish treasure seeker, whose courage, greed and stupidity far outweighed any sense of self preservation.

It would have fed upon the fool and been done with it, but the creature had not survived this long by acting hastily.  It was centuries old and in all that time, it had learned caution.  In the shadows, it observed its prey carefully.  There was something odd about the bare-chested young man that didn't sit well with the creature.

No reason to rush things.

It was no longer capable of anticipation, excitement, or dread.  The necrotic energies that held it together made such base feelings impossible.  The need, the craving for fresh blood was it's only passion.  Still, it opened itself up to the stirrings of magic, a trick from it's past. 

Once, it too had been a wizard.

Threads of magic, both strange and ancient, were woven throughout the young man's flesh.  Odd runes slowly drifted across the mage's skin, only half of them visible to the naked eye, the rest shifting in and out of some never place. 

The small globes of light slowly orbited the young man, lighting his way and following him down the broken and dusty tunnel.  After the lightest of magical touches, it realized that each one of those orbs was loaded with defensive magics as well.

Years had become meaningless in its undead existence, but still, in the span of centuries, never had it encountered a being so wrapped in so many powerful and intricate protective spells. 

It would have given much to understand the purpose of those magics, so complicated, so beautiful the pattern. 

But it was then when the young man cleared his throat and spoke aloud into the darkness:

"Look, I know you're here.  I'm not looking to start some shit, but if you try anything stupid, you are more than fucked.  I came only for information, nothing else."

Unlike the undead creature, Gahnt knew exactly what was up.  His own existence was owed to a volatile combination of paranoia and poor impulse control.  He had no illusions about what lived in this dark place and had come prepared to fight, if necessary.

"What do you offer?" the creature rasped from the darkness.  It had come to the conclusion that it wanted no part of this one, despite it's hunger.

"You were once Terenska of Olbrik?" Gahnt asked of the shadows.

"That name.... so long has it been... yes... that name still as meaning to this shell." the creature rasped, stunned that anyone would still know that particular relic of information.  "But it is a memory and nothing more... try to conjure with it and you will find it has no hold over this collection of dark forces."

Gahnt reached into his pack and produced a scroll, bound in glowing silken thread.

"Nothing of the kind, though it is a shame if all you say is true.  Terenska was mighty in his day and was known as a learned man.  But if some whisper of his past is still to be told, I would hear it.  In just that happenstance, I have prepared this:" he announced, "The Shield of Twilight's Falling.  It is yours if you have the information I seek."

The undead thing laughed, a long, dusty cough.

"You think I'm a fool?" it spat.  "That spell was lost millennium ago during the reign of the Skybreaker.  It has become but memory in the minds of men.  Trouble me not with lies and false promises mortal, lest we test to see if your confidence in your considerable protections is truly well placed."

Gahnt suddenly spoke a series of quick guttural sounds, punctuated with serpentine hisses and odd clicks.  The globes of light surrounding him dimmed for a moment and a cold breeze entered the tunnel.  A feeling of weight hung in the air.

"How can that be!?!" the creature hissed, alarmed.  "I recognize the sounds, but those words... never in my long existence and before were they spoken.  The lost designs of Tenck... all those spells...  You must give me that scroll!"  It rasped eagerly, it's pale, almost translucent clawed hands emerged from the shadows, reaching, grasping.

"Bide." said Gahnt with a certain amount of menace in his voice and tapping edge of the scroll to his temple.  "The information first."

"What do you seek?" it asked quickly, wanting this transaction to be over and this strange being to be gone as quickly as possible. 

"It is rumored that the Old Ones, the ones who are lessened with each passing..." Gahnt smiled wickedly, "it is rumored that a number have gone your route.  Even further, it is whispered that they have gathered together to form a council of their own.  I would know the truth of this."

"I have heard this as well..." the creature replied.  "Occasionally one of my kind will run cross path with another.  If our purposes are not in conflict, we've been known to exchange information.  Even in my day when I lived under the sun and breathed the wind, we would hear rumor of an Old One falling purposefully to the Cold Path.  Not so surprising, even for them.  Their future, gone.  Who would blame them?"

"And a gathering?"

"The Cult of Shadows.  Only words, and even then, spoke quickly and quietly.  I know not their purpose but can only imagine.  Such beings of light and life fall hard into the black."

"Anything else you know, a location, anything?" Gahnt asked.

"Only that me and mine, created from the flesh of man, are pale comparisons to those creatures.  Born in when the world was young, the rules were less defined. Each one was a force of nature then. Birthed in the brightness of creation, can you imagine what they might have become in darkness?" the undead thing rasped.

With a sigh, Gahnt tossed the scroll into the darkness.

"Good enough, thing that was once Terenska of Olbrik.  Keep your prize."

"Curious, you know this spell and how it can be used.  Why would you betray your own?"

"My own?"  Gahnt asked.

"Humans."  it croaked.

The young man laughed loudly in the still tunnel as he turned toward the exit and headed for the light. 

For no reason, the undead thing seemed to shiver at the sound.

the MOSIAC
EPISODE 5

He leaped and danced through the canopy of trees in joy, the aliveness of the forest washing over him, reviving him, filling his heart with all the wonder and happiness of a child. A brown speck in a sea of green and gold, he spun left, adjusting his angle in mid-air, catching a hanging vine and letting his momentum swing him wide and far until he finally let go, launching himself into the air once again with a backwards somersault, arms wide. At last, when gravity finally caught up with him, he dove like a dart through the misty air in the shadows of the forest below, twisting as he fell only to reach out and snag another vine at the last moment, severing one end with his claws to swing out fast and high, ever higher, into the tops of the trees with a huge smile on his broad face.

His mass seemed not to matter at all, he was a leaf on the wind, a creature of the forest. He burst through the emerald ceiling in an explosion of leaves, high above the tops of the trees with a graceful spin, basking in the momentary warmth of the sun and the gentle summer breeze across his golden brown fur, before slowly arcing back into the embrace of the living forest below.

As he fell, he grabbed a massive limb of an ancient tree, swung himself up and sprinted down its length, before leaping fearlessly into an infinity of green above and below. He dodged past a family of squirrels, danced around an owl, and winked at a snake nestled high in a tree as he slowly made his way to the heart of this sacred forest. Few of these creatures even reacted to his presence, so much he was a part and apart of the great cycle of life all around him.

This was joy, he thought, as if joy was something you could just wrap yourself in. While the others thought his form a curse, he secretly knew the truth.

It was a gift.

Once, he had lived as a man. He had done the things that men do. He had known love, bright blades, magic and war. He remembered wine and song and friendship and all the beauty of the simple moments before. And he had known pain, great pain and loss as well...

But that was all past.

Now, he simply was. His rebirth had been his deliverence, his freedom.

But some ties could never be broken, nor would he want them to be. There was still a legacy and the reason for this pilgramage.

It was the early evening. The night and the stars above were just making their presence known against the purples and oranges of the sky when he finally got to the clearing. The first cool breeze from the forest washed over him as he scouted the area, clinging lightly to the highest branch of a tall tree on the clearing's edge. He drank deeply from a waterskin at his side, enjoying the sensation of the breeze and the cool water as he rested in this scenic spot.

Stone ruins of a civilization long past lay scattered across the grassy floor of this sacred place. These people had lived in harmony with the world long ago and he thought they would be pleased by all they had been being reclaimed by the world they had so loved.

His eyes fell upon the remains of a once great temple. Its roof and many of its walls had long ago collapsed and only a few high columns remained as ancient reminders of its glory and beauty.

He made his way there. He was a whisper in the wind, a shadow against the twilight.

He rounded a stone column to see two young people, a boy and a girl sitting on a fallen pillar, admiring the night sky as more and more stars winked through that dark curtain. The slightly older boy got to his feet, turned and grinned. Whisper was always surprised that the boy knew he was there, but the bright eyes, so familiar, told him volumes about the man the boy would one day be. The girl stood and turned as well, adjusting her green cloak as she moved. She knew the smile on her face became his world, his everything.

"Father." she said, running to embrace him.

The Mosiac
Episode 4