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...