Welcome to Gaia! ::

Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

THUMP

And Turning all against one is an art that's hard to teach

CRUNCH

another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd

WOOSH-THUMP!

Damn these ******** was fast. Damion back away from his foe as fast as he dared, taking refuge between two tall rocks as the heavily scaled creature hurled itself at him again with a defiant roar, thick claws scrabbling at the rocks and leaving deep gouges.

And as you step back in the line, a Mob jumps to their feet

It's head was snapping inches from the Elementals body, ripe for the smacking. The maul he had made of stone swung around in a reverse swipe, going high into the air before coming crashing down where the Wyrm's head had been moments before. For such a bulky beast, it was fast. Scree and gravel shot out in all directions, their battleground already well defined.

Now Dance, ********, Dance, Man, He never had a chance
and no one ever knew, it was really only you

Back at him the beast came, smashing Damion's guard rocks to pieces as he scrambled under the creature, swiping at one of it's knees. He was rewarded with a sharp crack and his stone weapon falling apart in his hands. " Mother ********!" He had no option but to run, dodging the beasts thick tail as it swung around to give chase.

And now you steal away
Take him out today
Nice work you did
Your gonna go far kid

Hot breath blasting against his back, Damion felt the thing right on his a** as he scrabbled up a taller rock, kicking off as the thing came up after him." Back off a*****e!" The Wyrm roared as way of reply, the bus sized dragon throwback angered by it's opponents escape. Manhole sized scales rippled as it worked to continue following the human and ended up on it's back, thrashing around in rage.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise
Hit 'em right between the eyes, Hit 'em right between the eyes

The earth elemental kept running, working to escape the wyrms thrashing to recoup himself, pulling another hammer out of the wall and holding it crosswise infront of himself, watching the dark brown and grey scales rip apart the ground like it was putty. With it on it's back, Damion was safer for afew seconds, the creature finally getting back on its' claws. He took advantage of it's disorientation, smashing the maul into one of it's dinner plate sized eyes, earning a shriek of pain from the beast.

It was, however, no time to celebrate.

Despite the no doubt blinding pain of getting popped in the eye, The beast snapped it's head around, catching Damion with the end of its' snout and launching him into the air for a good 20 feet, the earth elemental shocked and winded up until he hit a rock. Then he was hurt, shocked and winded.

This cavern was humongous. The sheer scope of it was breathtaking. If a city vanished somewhere on Gaia, this was the type of place to have eaten it. In truth, it seemed less like a cave and more a hallowed out mountain. And there, on a ledge, was Maximos Lucillien Dark looking the very picture of an adventurer. His spiked backwards navy blue hair blew in a stiff breeze carrying the scent of wet dirt and mold, and something so very sweet it was almost painful. His mismatches eyes, coal black on the left and grayish white on the right, peered out at the breathtaking sight before him. He wore a simple black knee high jacket covering a black vest, black and a dark blue dress shirt. On his back was a large pack, stuffed full of more items than it truly ever should have been able to hold, and more than he’d ever need…signature to all adventurers. Over his shoulder was a bundle of rope for any and every purpose, in his hands was an old tattered map, and on his intensely pale face was nothing but awe. Awe at the breadth, the scope, the sheer design of the place. Awe that moved him to take in every detail his sight would allow. Awe that as his eyes adjusted, was unfortunately short lived.



Light spilled down from a fissure in the roof of the massive cavern illuminating the crime that while not the reason he had come, would become the very reason he stayed.

The light poured down in a stream, rushing over a small garden filled with beautifully blossomed flowers. The flowers were blood red with yellow centers that gave off a thin mist of pollen, which, in the soft fountain of light appeared to glow a faint orange. It was like living, floating fire. A tall ring of stone surrounded the peaceful garden, rugged and yet smooth in ways which nature alone could never craft. The tall stone structure acted like a wall, pooling most of the light and visible pollen. Dim points of glimmer just outside the rocky enclosure hinted that outside of the garden was something. Something shiny. The glimmer caught Maximos’ attention, focusing his gaze from the cave as a whole and guiding his eyes to follow the glowing powder as it wafted vaguely upwards and then seemed to vanish as it exited the light stream. Perhaps that was why the cavern smelled so sweetly...

...Perhaps its was her.

At the center of the garden, was a young woman. A woman with hair like golden sunlight spun into strands which fell just perfectly. A woman wearing a dress as pure and white as fresh snow, which reflected the soft slice of light from the ceiling of the cavern with an almost angelic glow. Like a halo. It was an honest to Nocturne, damsel in distress.

How I had not noticed her until then, I would never know. It was as if she simply appeared from a wonderful, impossible dream. And now that I had infact noticed her, I simply could not seem to notice much else.

Maximos’ eyes widened, a small breath escaped him a gasp. Something moved inside him, something deep and old and forgotten. A memory of another, older time. And then suddenly his brow furrowed, his eyes slanted and his lips pursed in a hard, angry line. This maiden’s radiant purity was tarnished, by a set of ashen black chains around her delicate wrists and ankles that bound her to a stalagmite jutting up out of the cave floor like a knife. The very sight of it was offensive. Maximos’ jaw was set tight, his hands automatically balling into tight fists.

The sound of the already ancient map being crushed in his grasp snapped him out of his inexplicable indignation. Why was he so angry suddenly? Thousands of women die every day, what made this so special?

As if to reassess the situation, Maximos removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes with his fists before slipping them back on. He partially expected she would have vanished, but there she was. Her face was angled softly downwards in a sadness so intense it hurt to even look at. Maximos cringed with some unseen pain, and then immediately turned away. He wasn’t here for that. He was a Reaper, he witnessed death on a daily basis. This shouldn’t bother him at all. He was not a hero, not a savior, not any more. Those days were long past, and deep in his heart he felt that cold truth absolutely. Whatever else, he felt would freeze over in time. That was the way of it. He set his focus on what he had come to find, turning away from the ledge and making taking his first steps toward the windy stone path that lead to the cavern floor. She would simply have to sort herself out.

And then her soft sobs reached him, and Maximos froze in mid step. Each pained sound echoed faintly through enormous cavern and increased in volume from a whisper so that by the time her voice reached Maximos’ ears it sung as if she were right beside him as opposed to a cavern away. The sound sliced straight through the man in black like a blade with an impossibly keen edge. His heart leapt in his chest. He felt a memory stir inside him beneath the ice. His hand moved automatically over his heart and squeezed a tuft of his dress shirt in a tight fist as if trying to manually stop the painful memory from escaping.

Her tears echoed through the cave the very same way they echoed through me, plunging deep and tugging at some old forgotten part of myself. Before the Reapers...before the darkness...it didnt matter who she was or how beautiful she may or may not be, I wanted to save her. I wanted that chance to touch what I once was but would never be again. Before the Reapers, before the darkness. I wanted to remember what it was to be a hero. And I wanted it more than I ever realized, I wanted it more than anything. Even my next breath.

Maximos stepped forward again triumphantly to edge of the precipice, before he ever actually sent the command to his legs. He was driven. Focused. So much so, he didnt even register the sound of the rock shaking free under his weight. Against the thumping of his heart in his ears, he had no chance of noticing the gentle wrap and tap of the stone against the cliff. Tink. Clink. Max heard nothing. He felt the beach sand between his toes, the old and rusted iron sword in his grip. He felt, as vivid as his next breath, the eagerness he felt as a boy when he imagined how his knew skills would and could save lives. Change the world!

I could hear my teachers clearly echoing from my past. “. I remembered my earliest and most important lessons so very fondly. Combat. Fighting to save, to defend. Strategy, preparing to win, winning through preparation. And most important to any Shadowlander, stealth, to be so very like the shadows we revered. I was there again, I was him again, I was…

BONG! Maximos felt the color drain from his face as the small stone hit the bottom of the cavern, striking a large sheet of metal and booming like a going and then immediately echoing and echoing again until it rolled across the entire cavern like explosive thunder.

…clearly the least stealthy shadow...on all of Gaia.

Startled, the young maiden’s sobs stopped, her eyes quickly snapped upward. Her face so very incredibly tragic it felt as if it had burned a whole in his chest. Max felt his heart drop into his stomach. But as his eyes apologetically fell on her, he suddenly became aware of something else. There were two large eyes, both larger than Maximos himself, red eyes which brightened into brilliant fiery orange blazing at their center just before giving in to coal black pupils, locked onto him. And they were unhappy. Their glow pierced through the darkness without removing it, like a cigarette in a dark room. And then all at once the stone ring surrounding the garden began to move.

As it moved, the light naturally flowed past its confines. Light reflected off dozens of newly revealed shiny surfaces. Maximos' jaw fell slack, his eyes widened in disbelieving shock. Swords, lances, shields, gauntlets and full suits of armor encasing white aged bone, beside greenish gray rot. Bodies, hundreds of them, likely filling the entire cavern floor. Carnage covered the cave floor surrounding what had only appeared to be such a peaceful place. At once, Maximos understood the true nature of the graveyard he had stepped into.

Just outside the light the creature finished unfurling, stretching its enormous body nearly from one end of the gigantic cavern to the other. It yawned, and then suddenly two large leathery wings snapped open behind blowing a frighteningly powerful rush of air forward whipping at Maximos' still frozen statuesque figure. The monster’s gigantic form was nothing more than a black silhouette behind the light punctuated by two blazing eyes, but it was as recognizable to him as his own hands. By its very existence, the outline of what was to follow was laid in stone.

Halfway up one of the Mithril Mountain's many peaks, a man just put the finishing touches on his new campsite. Only taking a momentary rest to marvel at his own work, he began began the arduous task of fitting himself into his suit of armor alone. The magnificent, red full suit of plate armor was crafted by Dwarven hands, created from light-weight and durable mithril, laid atop a suit of woven red dragon scales. The armor may as well have been hot off the forge, since the man received his finished commission not even a few days prior.

The campsite in question was nothing extraordinary, though it would be clear to any onlookers that the inhabitants (or inhabitant) planned on staying for a an extended period of time. Wooden plants bound by rope were built into a recess in a small cliff-face, creating a tent of sorts. A jagged, deep stone fire pit was built about seven feet from his makeshift dwelling. The runoff from the mountain peaks caused many of the mountain springs to overflow, renewing small streams. One of these streams flowed along the edge of his campsite, providing its patron with a fresh supply of water.

It was spring, the season of new life. Coincidentally, it also marked the start of a new training season for Moonblade.

As modest as this setup seemed, the Sorcerous Dragoon would be lying through his teeth if he told anyone that he didn't supplement his daily routine with magic to make things more convenient for himself. His portable hole was fully stocked with food and extra supplies, so Moonblade could forgo trapping for food altogether if he so chose (which was more often than one might think). While his dwelling was warmed with hot coals when the weather was harsh, a magic barrier created a nearly air-tight seal that prevented water and wind from flowing through the cracks in the wood; his work on the campsite wasn't bad at all, but he was no master carpenter.

Deep down, Ammiel knew he should be a little more concerned with his recent trip to the southern peninsula. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was overlooking an important detail somewhere. To him, it felt less like an ominous premonition of sorts and more like forgetting to lock your front door. Still, he wasn't entirely sure how much of his ordeal was real and how much of it was wild fantasy and illusion. Such as it was in the Ethereal Void.

Brushing these thoughts aside, he clasped the remaining holds on his gauntlets. Reaching for his spear, he was ready for an afternoon of training.

The dragon seem almost too content to glide in the silence only death could bring, despite being without human facial features it seemed altogether smug. Calmly, almost lazily, the gigantic lizard completed one lap around the cave and then began sailing lackadaisically back to its resting place at the cavern’s center. The garden never seemed more inviting, the soft light was never warmer, its prized possession was never more its own. A sort of greed filled its heart and relaxed its body. No matter how hard the fight, no matter what the costs she still belonged to it. A little golden meat person kept on display forever. It would admire her some more and then, a nap was in order.

With his consumption, Maximos had proved one singular fact he had always known and always lived by until now. That inside each and every one of us was hero waiting to break free and once it did we we’re immediately an inexorably destined for a violent end.


Darkness is a shadow’s closest and constant friend. And here, darkness was all he felt. And yet as opposed to the cold, choking, and then ultimately liberating grip of Death, Maximos felt warmth and pressure, and the ever present sound of a heartbeat pounding like thunder out of rhythm with his own and quite some distance away. In truth, this place was most reminiscent of a womb, and yet to the best of his knowledge Maximos had never heard of a womb that smelled of ash and rotting meat. Slowly, above the stench, and the force pinning him in place, Maximos felt a tingling sensation.

It was the itch you cannot scratch no matter how you stretch and reach. It was a tingling sensation that started in one arm and then grew into a tickling sensation and soon he could not help but to focus on it. Maximos suddenly felt like he was laying in a bathtub full of spiders, thousands of tiny legs ran races across his skin, and then inside his skin, urging him to jump, hop, skip and scratch, all while an enormous immovable pressure pinned him in place helpless and flat on his back. Then all at once, the spider horde decided to bite. Tickles and tingles turned into raw acidic flame, pulsing magma through his veins and eating away at his insides. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. His teeth sunk into his lip until he tasted blood…and then at the favor, the scalding ache coalesced into a single pounding throb, centered on one arm. His right arm.

In the vacant coolness left behind after the agony, Maximos found himself thinking quicker and clearer. It was as if his mind suddenly moved from being a house, to a city block with unfathomable room to store details and every mental faculty he need to process it all. He was aware of the myriad of wet fleshy lumps along the length that pinned him down, there were thousands and he knew that if he just concentrated he could probably count the exact number in less than the time it would take to say the number. He was aware of hot, rancid breath streaming past him, the way it made goose bumps roll up his arm in sheets. He was aware of how with each blazing swell of pain that wracked his arm, his fingers twitched like spider legs moving wildly individual of each other, while simultaneously in unison. But most of all he was aware of the rhythm the burning palpitation in his right arm had taken, and how it perfectly matched the thundering heart beat, down to the very second.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Suddenly, he understood. Maximos had tasted people, creatures, and even gods though he had no joy for the flavor of the divine, but he had never tasted a life force as potent as this. It made him feel smarter, faster, tougher, and impossibly strong and yet at the same time it was liquid fire, it burned him alive, eating away at him like a super potent drug. The dragon’s life would burn him away in moments, pushing him past his limitations until his body simply fell to pieces and would feel untouchable until his very last breath. He would burn out like a falling star.

But like all he drained as he tasted its power, and its soul, Maximos tasted its emotions. He tasted boundless blood red ocean of rage, bottled behind the thinnest veil and placed precariously beside putrid and bright green greed which in turn swirled around a tainted sort of affection for something. It was a love not like a married couple, but a love like a boy for a new toy, a beautiful bright shiny thing that would later lose its meaning and have no other value than the pride he felt seeing it sit on his shelf. And then, inevitably, it would lose even that value and be tossed aside. And then another putrid breath raced by and brought with it a now all too familiar floral scent and Maximos suddenly realized, what…or rather who, the object in question was.

It was dehumanizing. It was injustice of the highest accord. No lady, no being should ever be reduced to something so menial! It was utterly unforgivable! I was so enraged I hadn’t even the clarity to realize that the anger pumping through my veins like propane was not entirely my own. I had tapped the ocean of unrestrained rage swirling inside the creature soul, I had partaken of its inner beast.

All at once Maximos felt his right arm buck with all the force and ferocity of a bronco, in a single swing the unforgiving wet wall that pinned him down was tossed upwards. Like a thousand greedy children reaching up for a taste of what fell from the piñata he felt the entwining bands of band of black metal choke around his arm.

And I had awaken my own.

Suddenly, blackness was spewing from the dragon’s mouth like ink squirting from a scared octopus. The pitch pool of smog swirled around the dragons mouth, against the dim pool of light nebulous shapes and vague motion were visible inside the black.

I was not prey. I was not a snack, to be savored and munched on at ones leisure.

The smoke stretched unnaturally against the rushing wind, wafting up the dragon’s face and then swirling and condensing into long thin black tendrils. A legion of inky black limbs stretched and climbed like creeping nightmarish vines up the side of the drakes’ mouth, across its muzzle, and around its neck. Ooze poured down the dragon’s lips like tarry saliva that ran long ropey trails along the cave floor. All while the remainder of the nebulous black cloud, still teeming with motion lashed out beyond the drake tasting the cavern air countless hungry limbs. The dragon’s face was suddenly engulfed in a chaotic storm of motion and darkness.

And then suddenly the writhing mass found its purpose. Every thrashing appendage lashed outwards. All at once the entire assembly stretched and reached and clung to cave around them, morphing their tips into grabbing hands, rigid hooks or even sharp spikes. Be it a stalagmite ejecting out of the ground, an uneven length of cliff wall, a spiny outcropping of stone, each limb found a solid home and stuck to it. They were a myriad of midnight tethers trying to hold back the unstoppable. Almost immediately after they secured themselves, every arm was snapped free, but they would not give up so easily. Again and again they greedily clamored for another hold, and another, and another.

And it seemed, for just a moment that the drake was slowing. In rage and frustration the dragon roared, and countless groping hands seized their moment of opportunity, wrapping at the horns and protrusions along its face and neck, slipping in between teeth and across its face. Deep inside the mass of swirling black a silhouette was barely visible, a man in a sea of violent motion with a stark glowing white eye and a sword held dramatically in his left hand. His right arm was decorated in jet black bands metal forming a sort of twisted gauntlet with elongated talons for fingers and was bent slowly stretched straight up, sinking said talons into roof of the creatures mouth. In conjunction with the storm of securing limbs, the arm was straightening and prying its enormous jaws open.

I had it. I could feel its endless strength rushing through me and I forced it immediately back against it. For its unforgivable crimes, this beast would fall. Right here and now, I would bring it down.

And then all at once, the room was turned on its side and Max was falling. The monster lizard snapped its head straight upwards, its wings flapped furiously, and its body curved into a swoop arcing upwards until it was flying straight vertical.

…Or not. Like a shank of ice jammed into my spine spreading icy chill across my body, I could feel the exact moment that its rage gave way and solidified into a single chilling determination. It had simply, had enough.

Against the sudden burst of primal strength the black net of limbs held about as much resistance as silly string might against a charging rhino. One moment, Maximos was standing proudly, bathing in the truly amazing feat that was holding back the dragon’s maw with his bare hands, ready to strike. And now, his army of shadowy limbs were nothing more than a memory, his grip on the roof of its mouth and the crushing pressure that kept his feet cemented in place, was all that kept him from tumbling end over end down its gullet. Where just seconds ago Max had his shadowy arms to aid him, now the full force of the dragon’s crushing bite lie on a single gauntleted arm. And as it twitched and jerked, it was failing. The here to for unbreakable gauntlet was breaking, hairline fissures ran along its joints and stretched and then spider-webbed out across the thick bands of its surface as full on cracks and chips.

Maximos face was strained in hard lines, his teeth were gritted fiercely together and yet he was not moving or endeavoring to try and move. To the outsider, it looked as if Maximos was simply standing still, perhaps focusing on keeping himself from being crushed but, deep inside the beast the fight raged on. Lashes of black raced down the dragon’s neck and across his shoulders in an attempt to stop its gigantic leathery wings from flapping, but as the shadows tore as easily as paper, Max realized he had a better chance of stopping Gaia from turning. Staring down the beast’s esophagus Maximos summoned wall after wall of pure black to clog its airways, and yet with a huff the beast blew the barriers down like a house of cards in a hurricane. Finally, he tried crushing the beast’s heart, willing the darkness to crush the organs thunderous palpations in a giant vice, but in response its heart only pounded away faster, and harder, each beat was like an explosion breaking the grip as surely as a volcano breaks through the earth’s crust. The

Twilight Gauntlet had drained many foes before, but attempting to hold open the dragon’s mouth alone with only the strength it drew from the very same dragon was like trying to drain the ocean with a small drinking straw before its full weight crushed you. The arm seemed more like fragile porcelain sculpture than the unbreakable soul eating monster it once was. Maximos would not, could not, did not know how to simply stop, he slashed, and slashed again thrashing his sword back and forth across the roof of the dragon’s mouth, with a sort of desperate recklessness. Each black blur of motion carved a deep cut in its soft gums, filling the wound with a mixture of sharp violet glow and deep crimson blood, both swirled together and slowly began to slither into shape of their own. And then, all at once, the Twilight Gauntlet shattered like a sheet of glass.

There was the groaning sound of metal bending against its will, Maximos’ arm was forced backwards painfully against its joint, warping and twisting as opposed to simply breaking. In a final determined motion Maximos thrust his last sword straight upwards, bidding everything he had in one final attack. And suddenly there were several dry violent pops from within him. The awkward warp moved the focal point of the crushing pressure from his arm, to his right shoulder shattering it immediately, followed by several ribs, and finally his right leg. And with a loud thump, it was over. The dragon’s mouth snapped shut for the final time.

Every swarming tendril seemed to fall dead on cue, blackness oozed now from the dragon’s face falling to the ground in thick globs. Soft wing flaps carried the great lizard up gently and calmly carrying it over the garden toward the crooked line of light bleeding into the cave from above.

Inside, a royal purple glow shimmered against wet pink flesh. Inside, royal purple light dimly reflected off a jet black sword protruding from the roof the dragon’s mouth in the center of a dozen bleeding illuminated slashes. Inside, mismatched eyes caught the soft purple hues dancing along the glowing grape colored magical array that had been carved into the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Arcane fused with primal, blood intertwined with essence, a grin spread across a darkly lit face, and a shaking and broken hand rose pressing its thumb and middle finger together.

Snap-THOOM. It was a hollow thumping sound, a muffled boom, like the sound of something very heavy falling but from down a very long hall. The dragon’s entire body shook. Its head jerked violently to one side and then the other, its wings flapped desperately like a drowning man trying to stay afloat but without any of its previous grace or skill. Smoke rushed out the ear holes at its side and from its lips. It jerked and flipped and twist, performing a wild dance of death as if trying to defend itself against some unseen force. With every flip and turn its body motions became less forceful and more wild. Its thrashing degrading from a threatening defense, to very evident death throws.

With a sound like a bomb exploding, the lifeless lizard hit the cave floor. Countless armor pieces flew into air followed a loud series of crashes like an enormous metal gong echoing over and over on itself. Metal pieces and bits fell down like sparkling rain, adding gentle percussion to the cacophony. And then slowly but surely it all became still. The dragon’s entire form was laid out a limp deflated balloon sprawled across half of the garden, with its mouth hanging open just beside the maiden’s resting spot and its tongue lolled out over the side of its face. The blazing fire in its eyes was extinguished, and now very slowly those dulled flames rolled back exposing nothing but veiny whites. From the slice in the ceiling, light shined on the dragons head and reflected dully off of the black sword poking out between the its lifeless eyes yet still crackling.

You see, even inside this dragon was a hero. A hero waiting to be break free and once it did….well, I’m usually right about these kinds of things.

And then the sword pulled back. And then there was a fifth, and final snap.

The thing that exited the dragon’s mouth moments later could barely be described as humanoid. One of its arms was bent into a freakish S curve and hung several inches lower than the other. To say it favored its right side was an understatement, it seemed more like the surviving creature stepped with its left side, and then with no small amount of wincing and with the help of a few non-descript black patches at its hip, and ribs, and a black brace bound around its right leg, it swung its right side forward at which point the entire thing fell forward caught only by its sword impaling the ground…and then it started the motion over again. Maximos gasped for mouthfuls of air but his breaths came out wet, ragged, and wheezed as if passing through some sort of liquid respirator. His face and the majority of his body was stained in fresh blood, blending in with the boiled and burned wounds on his shoulders.

And yet…I killed a dragon.

The moment she spotted him, she gasped. Maximos’ eyes snapped up from where his bare feet were ruining a path through the red blossoms staining his toes orange, and met hers.

She was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.

“Its going to be okay.” Max said, in his best reassuring tone holding out a hand as if he could reach out and pull the worries away.
“Your…” She said with a voice as soft as a breeze and as beautiful as the sweetest melody.
“I’m fine.” Max lied, his voice a croak next to hers.
“But…”
“Its all over now.”

Something in her eyes, and the way she softly chuckled made Max chuckle in return. They say laughter is the best medicine and hers truly was, just soft sound was like salve on his wounds reducing their life threatening agony to a dull roar. Max stepped forward, a bit sturdier than a moment ago. Seemingly no longer needing the crutch he raised his sword and she recoiled automatically. The gesture was like a stab to his heart, was he so terrifying? She had been hurt so badly?

He stepped around behind her and touched the tip of his sword to her bonds, taking in a last deep breath of her before she faded like a dream. The way she watched his sword, she was going to run, that was more than obvious. Then with a clink, she was set free. Maximos was already raising his hand to wave goodbye. But, the moment she was free she whirled around to face him immediately cupping his face in both of her hands, and bringing her body only inches from his own. Her shape, her form…it simply defied words save to say that she looked like the sort of things sculptures spend their lives trying to create, and to this very day never have.

“Ma’am. I don't think-“
“I…”

Her voice was timid, bleeding the sort of innocence that made it almost painful to interrupt. Her skin was soft and smooth against his face, caressing it as only the finest and loveliest silk.

“I just…

He thought, he thought…but just breathing her in stole his thoughts away. Her hands slid delicately against his jaw, her honeyed caramel eyes met his and then bored clean through them digging a home in his soul. Maximos knew many words, but could find none. Automatically however, his hands found their way to her waist although Max never gave the command. Although part of him vaguely remembered an injury that made such a thing impossible, he dismissed it as mistaken.

“Its been so long…thank you…you do not know what this means to me. How can I ever repay you?” She said with breathe as sweet as candy and delicate as music.
“I require no paymen-“ She stifled his modesty with a touch of her baby-smooth finger against his lips, rendering him a silent prisoner of her smell, her touch, her sound. And then without any warning, of her taste. She pulled him in abruptly and yet smoothly, her soft lips pressed perfectly against his sending tingling down and across his spine.

Wait. I know what your thinking. And Lucind if your reading this, I’m sorry. Its not what it looks like.

Again automatically, Maximos’ arms slid around her, his fingers laced their way through her long flowing hair, another moved to the small of her back pulling the two deeper into the kiss. Her hands slid down his neck tracing his collar before dipping down to his chest. In turn he leaned closer, pressing the line of her body against his, her curves nestled perfectly, passionately, against his form.

No, you don't understand, I’m really sorry. I can explain! I didn’t want to pull away. Even when I felt her claws dig trenches in my chest. Even when the blood soaked my shirt and ran chilly little rivulets down my stomach. I was entirely ready to be lost in this sweet surrender.

Their lips met again, and again, like two halves of a whole desperate to be one again. Each time they kissed was more passionate, more pressing, more desperate than the last. Each touch of their lips pulled their embrace tighter and closer, until Max was finally forced to lean back with a breathless gasp.

The look on her face was utterly pleased and yet still was laced with some sort of smugness. Maximos’ face looked back at hers in a blissful mask. Satisfied in his reaction, she decided to take her time. Leaning her head to the side, she pressed her soft lips into his unmarred shoulder, then his pale collar, and finally his neck. He could feel her warm breath caress the sensitive skin there. The sensation sent heat across his body and reflexively his right eye ignited in a soft white glow. And then both eyes snapped open wide.

I am not hero. My life has proven that. But I do know right from wrong.

She froze. A perfect image, statuesque and still. A golden idol that belonged in a museum, locked motionless in a flawless pose. Blood ran down the length of Maximos’ sword slipping between his fingers and make his tight grip wet. Her face was formed into the absolute image of surprise and heart wrenching betrayal. His blood still stained her lips where her mouth full of fangs was barely pierced the skin above his jugular.

Orange. I saw the fiery orange glow of hunger. And I was entirely through of things trying to eat me today.

Her golden eyes stunned and were motionless, locked on Maximos’ now cold mismatches black and whites. Delicate fingers traced the length of the sword impaled beneath her breast and then moved back up Maximos’ form, smearing furrows of red against his cheeks as her eyes searched his eyes for some sort of meaning, an answer as to why…how? She found nothing. Maximos’ wet leather glove squeaked as his sword ripped to the side and completed the slash, and then with a shove he sent her collapsing backwards to the ground.

Luring heroes here, testing them and then eating them when they were weak?

Strangely, as Maximos moved to flick the blood from his blade he felt tackiness on his fingertips where thick blood was moments ago. Instead of crimson his hands were stained with a sort of caramel brown syrup. Confused Maximos stepped back, only to feel flowers crunched under his boot. But his boots should have been….

He dropped his head to look unbelieving at his feet, but his eyes never made it that far. Before him where, a beautiful woman should have lain dead, was no woman at all. Maximos tentatively touched his face, smearing reddish orange powder onto his syrupy gloves. His jaw would have hung agape, but as he tried to part his lips he found them coated in a sort of sticky sweet sap that stretched between them like glue making the gesture rather difficult. Contorting his face in effort he saw a few petals work themselves free from the sticky substance coating his face and drift downwards.

Before Maximos lie, not a lovely maiden, but a very large flower with huge fanged maw at the center of a humongous blossom, adorned with a set of puckering petal-lips. Its lips were surrounded by blood red blossoms that turned gold at their center. The same sort of pattern as the flowers filling the garden. The flower had two razor sharp thorny vines spread lifeless out to either side, stained with his blood.

….Testing them with an IMAGINARY dragon? A foe that would vex and tire their minds and leave their bodies in tact?

Maximos’ eye twitched. And then twitched again. He imagined the scene, how it must have really looked. His body entwined in long bloody vines, his face buried in large red petals, pressing into the disgusting puckering things, his tongue…Maximos’ whole right arm twitched. He looked down at the flower, then at his sword, then at the reflection of himself in the sword with an orange face covered with pollen and adorned various petals stuck to his forehead, cheeks, ear, neck…and worse yet coated with brown maple syrup smattered across the lower half of his face as if he had just partook in babies first pancake breakfast…and then he snapped.

This was very wrong, on so very many levels. Had I honestly just….with THAT!?

There was no telling how long Maximos whacked at that weed, only that when he was down he impaled his the sword in the left over pile of mulch with a snarl. And then, out of spite and flipped his pack around and began stuffing it full of blossoms from the garden. His hand, just as perfectly intact as the rest of his body, furiously waved the pollen away from his face with no small measure of growling indignation. He may be leaving without his dignity but he would not be leaving empty handed.

Now he knew why the cave smelled so sweet. It was] her-no, IT. He was ensnared from the moment he entered! Sure, he had the power to see through such an illusion but what good was that if you were sure you didn’t need to? He would never have gone on some stupid meaningless heroic dribble of a charge. In fact, from here he could see the path he had cleared while walking mindlessly through the field of discarded armor. Just the idea of him walking like some sort of zombie as he imagined some ludicrous epic battle left him punching fistfuls of flowers into his bag.

I mean, Dragonheart is known to be a very rare ingredient in many spells, potions, and enchantments. Especially the illusionary variety, but this is ridiculous! Dragon’s bane doesn’t try and EAT you! A monster I could understand, a hungry thrashing beast, but this?! There was no book that spoke of a giant monster plant mentally molesting and devouring anyone that tried to harvest the blossoms!

Max stood, the last few inches of his pack filled and partially over flowing with broken and bruised flowers, and then he flipped it shut and flung it over his shoulder and began storming off back toward the path.

I just wanted some herbs for the shop! Do other shop keepers have to slay dragons for product!?

"I. Killed. You!" He yelled out, bringing his right hand up and whipping it in the direction of Moonblade, a bolt of his black lightning flying outwards.

"You sold your damn soul and became a Lich!" He performed the same action with his left hand, this time throwing out a regular bolt. He just couldn't understand it! What was going on!!!!

"Apparently you're harder to kill than most undead - therfore, I'm going to blow your a** off the face of the F*cking planet!" He screamed, his voice becoming corse as more energy started roiling along the entirety of his body.

This would end it. Moonblade would die, and pay for his crimes... Damrius had just named himself Judge, Jury, and Executioner. He could feel his barriers slipping, but not quite there, yet. He didn't want to use the power given to him on this peice of filth, for this... being had no real merit to deserve such a brutal force coming at him full power.

Instead... He would use the new abilities he was still learning. This would be the perfect time to learn how to use them. And the instant that thought crossed his mind was the instant that a sword of solid black, made of solid energy. He let the longsword drag on the ground, causing the ground to hiss and smoke as it was burned away by the acidic nature of the magic. He was at a dangerous point, mixing multiple types of energy all at the same time. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was the death of the creature in front of him, even if it meant he had to die in the process.

"This time... I'll make sure of it..."

Damrius lurched forwards as his feet stepped onto the new terrain. He should have expected something like that. As Moonblade appeared in front of him, He lashed out with his sword, sending out a wave of the same dark energy at the Dragon Knight.

However, he didn't simply leave the wave to do the work on its own: He charged in right behind it, Bringing his sword across horizontally towards Moonblade, hoping to force him back and keep that little spell of his from absorbing the energy completely. Either way, he had more than one thing to deal with, the least of which was the Dark Wave or the Sword.

If only damrius could get his hands on the man....

"Jesus,"

Ice was short of breath after the last trek through the gorge. As she heaved in to catch up, she would slip a pack of cigarettes from her mute, black leather boots. Those things were worn and not exactly 'hiking' boots for that matter. they were ripped to shreds now, but somehow the soul still kept intact and until those gave out she would use them. She loved those boots, even after they were so battered. She figured by the time they gave out completely, she would buy ones that looked exactly the same.

"Never thought it'd take this long."

She whispered soundly to herself before slipping the butt between her lips and began digging around her coat for a lighter. She figured why it took so long to get up here was all the rock. The mountains and gorges she was used to were just as tall and vast, but there was much much more vegetation. She had enjoyed this hike, though. Since there wasn't much to see through shortsight, there was plenty to see with farsight. She could see Gaia entirely. She mapped out everything from up here, making some smaller connections as far as distances and things she had missed or walked by.

Click.

A lighter was found, but no fluid.

Dammit.

She took the cigarette from her mouth and observed it for a while before tucking it away. She sighed lightly. Her breath had already caught up to her by now and she would just revel in the beautiful sights before her from this height. She was nowhere near the top yet, but it was high enough to see just about everything already. She was interested in the very depth of the gorge she just hiked through. The damn thing threw so deep she can barely picture herself walking along its ridges. What if she had fallen? She'd be long gone. How long would it take her to fall?

She reverted thoughts quickly before she started trying to calculate.

A strong, cold gust would pick up now, funneling her form and tossing her dark hair from one side to all-sides. She looked as though she hadn't been hiking at all. Her skin was smooth and dry and hair remained magnificent even after being tossed by the wind so much, especially within the area of the gorge. The wind howled down there. The strength of it nearly tossed her clean off the edge one night. She laughed at that memory. Laughed at her fear.

She continued to enjoy her place there on the ridge of the mountain with piercing blue eyes.
Her destination was the waterfall, which was several days away.
She had no particular reason for visiting the falls, but it gave her something to do. It gave her initiative and needed the exercise to enhance her senses and stamina before continuing in battle somewhere amidst the town.