Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ryugi took a breather too as he relaxed on the floor of their moving castle. This was one strange way to travel, that was for sure. But either way, Ryugi was pleased that they didn't have to walk, and wouldn't have to worry about the howling sandstorm outside. Ryugi was awed at just how quickly Maximos was learning to make use of his shadowy ties to Ankokuko. It made him quite proud to see that his friend was enjoying his gift.

Time passed as the howling of the wind around the moving castle droned on, and Ryugi's thoughts wandered to how this adventure reminded him of his younger days. He'd traveled all over the place with old friends, and he silently wondered about Maximos' journeys. And, figuring that it would probably help to pass the time, Ryugi spoke.

So, Max, tell me some stories. You may not have lived as long as I have, but I'm sure you have plenty to tell.

Ryugi would grin as he rocked slightly from side to side in tune with the rocking of the walking legs as their giant walking spell continued on its path towards the Cave of Glass.

The Death Knight felt Ryudo's attack at his very core before the energy even reached him. The Arc-Flare was a non-issue, as it was dropped before Ryudo's attack even started; there was hardly enough energy to power it anymore between the both of them. It was a force against which he currently had no defense... but that didn't mean he didn't have a trick or two up his armored sleeve.

Argon turned the Great Spear on himself... and plunged it straight into his own chest.

The storm of energy smashed into Argon with unfathomable force. The Shade Plate was violently blown apart, offering little to no resistance. Whole chunks of the Death Knight were completely destroyed. Dark miasma literally flooded out into the air, as though trying to escape the destruction Ryudo had caused. It seemed that the shadow dragon might have actually prevailed after all.

There was an uneasy calm as the dust settled... revealing the somewhat broken figure of the Death Knight. Argon had survived, but how?

It turned out that whenever a being was slain by Ruination, Argon could feed off that creatures very essence to heal himself. He could also stab his own body to achieve the same effect to a degree, but it was no where near as potent. It wasn't enough to prevent the damage from Ryudo's attack, but it was enough to keep the Death Knight's body intact. With no vital organs to worry about, Argon would survive to fight another day.

There was a few moments of pause as Argon stared at the distant shadow dragon, contemplating the situation.

"...we're moving out. I've wasted enough of our time here."

Lazarus hesitated for a brief moment, as though it was intent on destroying the shadow dragon itself. However, that didn't last, as it flew back to its master faithfully. It may seem odd that Argon wouldn't chase down Ryudo to finish him off, but the Death Knight knew it was a futile effort.

After all, Ryudo could teleport.

It mattered not. Argon's body would recover before he reached any resistance; the Chaos Wyverns were already far ahead of them, out to fulfill the Death Knight's destructive orders. It was doubtful that the Shadow Dragon would find such a speedy recovery.

As the pair departed, Argon eyes closed. His fight with the shadow dragon threw his personal shortcomings in his face... but he also learned a great deal about the Death Knight's power. It was only because of this terrible power that he even survived this battle.

Argon vowed that his success would not be due to TFO's 'blessing' alone.

The Death Knight would learn discipline.

The Death Knight would become a true master of combat.

Victory will come due to my own abilities, not because of a power I was granted.

Argon recieved terrible power only because Moonblade was unworthy of it; the Death Knight was created due to the desires of a failure. It seemed that power rarely goes to the individuals that truly deserved it.

Thoughts of such irony only caused the Death Knigt to laugh bitterly at himself.

For years their enemies attempted to attack their capitals. A vain attempt to cut off the head of the dragon.

The crystalline hulk moved slowly through the sky towards the hidden continent. Looming was the appropriate word. It's deliberate path guided by Victor and the Forgotten, aimed toward the point the death knight had left them.

Why I ask, was this plan always met with failure? Many aspire to fight dragons, surely they would be hunted into oblivion by now.

Souls, the Forgotten dealt in souls and magic. The veil over Angara was just those things... Not to mention that the entity that gifted Victor had loomed over this planet long before such a veil existed. Then Victors knowledge, what he had gained in those long hidden libraries. The dragon's veil was a futile effort.

The head is simply too strong. Gnashing teeth, dangerous breath, and those peicing eyes. The ultimate challenge for those that fight for sport. We do not fight for sport.

Arcs or energy pulsed up the crystalline surface as eden began to sink into a sea of storms and magic. Even with the weight of the island it would take some time to power though the intense storms that surrounded the continent. In fact it seemed that crystinine chunks were being cracked off from Eden's shell and launched far and wide.

No. We must fight with efficiency. We care not for the trophy.

A calm day for a seaside village, at least until they saw the splashes out in the distance. The magnitude of which splashes only seemed to become clear as the waves made began to make their way to the shore. Small ones at first, but growing increasingly large. Nothing of tidal variety, but clearly enough to clear the onlookers from the beach and damage any beachside shacks.

It was more the sheer number of splashes in the distance, and how closer they were growing. One after the other the crystals fell from the sky as eden made it's way through the storm.

Hulks abandoned many many feet up.

We will avoid the boiling breath and thrashing tail. We we lance its sides. Drive our spears to weaken it.

And then a crystal shard finally hit ground. Stabbing deep into the ground leaving only a small crater and an exposed section of resonating crystal. When the dust settled all that was left was eerie calm. What prompted this crystalline rain? An attack? Judgment? Meteorological oddit...

And thus the silence ended.

The crystal sparked with energy. Resonated. Rumbled. Glowed. A connection was formed and the thing shattered into a great rift sparking with arcane energy. Then they started to pour out. The one eyed creatures known as shades. Those tireless soldiers of the nothingness. The armies of the Forgotten.

First came the great rooks. Hulking figures eight feet tall with tower shields just as big. Some were equip with axes, others with spears, some with swords longer than anyone should make, and others elected to just pummel with their bare hands.

They would push outwards forming a phalanx radiating from the crystal rift. They were followed very quickly by smaller shades, pawns and bishops. Some with spells and others with what appeared to be bows made from a shadowy material. This was no mob spilling out. As each shade phased into existence they fell into rank and file. They were highly oraginzed. Perhaps this is what made them much more fearsome than a mob of hungry undead or cackling daemons.

Strangely enough they were doing very little attacking. Just pushing forward slowly and methodically. The wall of rooks taking one step at a time.

There is one great difference between us and all else...

Shades without weapons began to set up strange devices and begin bizarre rituals. Runes appeared on the earth, and banners were driven into the ground. But even as more shades appeared, they still seemed to be waiting.

We...



Alpha was standing in the lonely room that he had populated many times. The stone orb was slowly shifting, changing under the shadelord's silent commands. His arms slowly raised as the carved stone pieces shifted like some ancient puzzle. What once was a sphere was now a series of completely disconnected pieces with the hint of a purple-black core right in the center.

"...Have no interest in the land they call home."

And with those words the stone pieces snapped together. Forming a solid stone ring around that black and purple core... Which too was changing from a bubbling sphere of darkness to touch every edge inside of that ring. A portal some would call it. A focal point was more accuarate.

With a swoop Alpha dropped both arms. The ring went from spinning vertically to laying horizontally in the air. Then another movement, Alpha thrust a fist into the air and once again cued motion from the gate. The black surface bent upwards before breaking into a torrent of blackness and purple cloud that erupted upward before spreading onto the roof of the room.

What once was a stone roof in the bowes of Eden, now looked like a perfect night sky. The stars twinkled, the suns burned, and the planets rotated. And there was a single red eye looking up into it. Almost as if he was looking to pinpoint something.

Then he pointed, and from that stone ring came a great beam of light that shot into that newly formed night sky.



How do you kill an ancient and eternal race?

In the open ground the shade's had formed a large runic circle, and almost as soon as they had finished tracing the intricate outlines something new fell from the sky. A solid shaft of light. Remarkably similar to the one that had erupted from the portal Alpha had summoned earlier. The light didn't simply fall gently, no it crashed and dug into the ground just as the crystals did. The circle they had formed was ruined just as quick as it was made.

And when the brightness faded there was another figure standing in the new crater.

An armored figure. Though what kind of armor was questionable, there seemed like two layers of the stuff. The underlayer being a conventional bronze-golden armour that one would expect to see on a decorated leader... But it was the upperlayer that was frightening. Save for a few exposed areas of joints that golden armor could only be seen in fleeting glances. Most of the figure was covered in a jet black vile looking armour, decorated by chains and shackles. It looked more like a prison jacket for the wearer than a protective piece. In that vein the creature wore a helm of the same shade black, that only had a few vertical openings on its lowered visor to see through. And even then those bar like slits seemed only home to darkness... Save the right side... To which a point of purple light beamed forth, and spilled a constant stream of quickly evaporating royal purple mist.

It shambled forward. That was the only word for it. Every other shade marched, this one reluctantly moved forward. Shifting like some sort of weighted zombie, and quickly flanked by four shade bishops. It moved from the crater to a patch of nearby grassy field where they had prepared the next ritual.

By this time it was almost gaurentted the rooks would be beating back first arivers, and the bishops projecting shields from aerial assault. But still, save for projectiles launched... This invasion force had yet to do anything by defend the ground they were given to begin with, and made very little effort to move forward.

They persist. Their cities fall and they persist. Their leaders fall and new ones rise up. They overcome every challenge. They, even in spite of their culture and leader's mortality... persist.

The figure was marched to the centre of the runic circles.

"Why must I suffer?" It spoke, and when it spoke it was chilling. It's voice seemed like a torture victim.

As if responding the bishops began casting, and a pulse of energy traveled from the edge of the circle in to the armored figure standing at the centre. When it hit it... it hit it like dynamite. First a small spark of energy formed around him, but then like a furnace doused with gasoline the energy engulfed the figure... and burned... and burned... A dark outline in the centre of a white hot blur of power.

But that wasn't the frightening part.

Not close.

As the armored figure burned it let out a constant scream.

But those are only attacks from people who want what they have. The dragon's glory and power. We do not desire such things... No we are willing to strike their heart.

The fuel for the ever growing storm of energy around the armored figure was the land itself. The grass around the circle was dying, the air was becoming stagnant, and as this blight spread a ever so slight amount of dark haze rose from the ground. Even worse... some shades had collapsed to the ground and morphed into strange aberrations of stone and forgotten matter. When the armored figure began to blaze. So did those aberrations, white energy appearing on their backs as if they were some sort of twisted brazier. And that fueled them, they sent dark tendrils through the weakened ground... And they too began to drain the land.

Magic burnt off into the year uselessly.

"AHHhhh! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! WHY!? NGGGYAAAAAAAAHHHhhhh! GAAAAAH!"

This wasn't an attempt to capture the dragon's land, this was scorched earth.

Salt their fields... Set fire to their sky... Leave nothing remaining for them to persist on.

Then their culture will surely last. Studied forever in an empty shell of a once proud race.

Ruins amongst the wasteland we will create.


"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......"

The air was pitched into a maddening cacophony of shrieks as nature was rent asunder. The coveted storms that veiled Angara from the rest of the world were but mere annoyances as the full force of Eden directed itself forward.

Void energies and damned Shade blood pulsed as one through the crystalline fortress as the heavens themselves cried out in affront.

Paradise was raping it way forward with abandon not unlike those that would soon surround it. The breach was over as soon as it had begun.

The ancient, arcane powers that had held the veil over the dragonborne isle were shattered beyond recognition. It would take time, and several moon turns before such a barrier could ever be erected (if at all possible); the very nature of the magic deadening crystal all about Eden ensured that-- and the magic draining nature of the Shades cemented it.

It was as if the very maw of ToF has opened in that brief instant and simply supped upon what the veil had to offer.

While the initial entry might have borne a tell-tale magical 'signal', once the veil had been ruptured, there would be nothing to 'feel'. Although in all honesty, it really wasn't hard to spot the isle in the sky.

The crystal encasing the entirety of Eden would not allow the isle to 'radiate' any kind of magical signature. There was a reason why no one had been able to find Victor, let alone why it took extreme measures to find it in the first place.



As the spearhead of the Shade invasion went underway below-- there too was a commotion of action above Eden.

To send only ground forces would be a fool's errand, and Victor was no fool.

From the confines of Eden, it appeared as nothing but distant black specks against a slowly darkening sky. They poured freely out, their shrieks and calls enough to deafen ordinary men (most likely just causing subtle headaches to the dragonborne).

At first glance, they had the appearance of bats, but that would have to be where all resemblance ended completely. Their wingspan and body length alone gave them the size of a small sailing ship easily. Long delicate wings covered with a greyish membrane, heads shaped like those of wolves; lengthened muzzles and yellow carnivorous teeth. Their bodies were covered in thick blackened fur, and each carried with it the stench of blackness... of death.

Agile and deadly, the winged creatures possessed razor-sharp talons on their feet; perfect for clawing and tearing through even dragon scale (for while dragons were certainly powerful creatures of lore, they were not immortal).

They flooded from purposefully carved niches and warren-like tunnels in the sides of Eden's crystalline facet, and swooped with purpose down onto the battlefield.

"Fly--- fly and pluck the scales from their very bones!!" The shout shrieked out, mingling with the cries of the Death-Wings, as a great gust of wind flared out. Staying aloft above the winged ones that continued to fly out was a decidedly female figure.

And it was decidedly so because of the lack of clothing the person in question had. She stood out starkly amongst the brood with great wings of feathered white akin to sails, the laughter coming forth from her throat revealing the bloodlust that she was so coddling within her very mind now. "Let them feel the joy of the Host of Miriam! Let them despair in the afterlife for all that might have been!!" She shrieked into the clouds, eyes flaring with joy as she swooped in.

Her face, bosom and lower body were of a human nature (decidedly so), yet her limbs were not. They resembled those of a harpy, with giant talons and deadly claws, her mouth filled with sharp teeth much like her brood.

And she hungered.



Well within the confines of Eden, upon some blasted rampart that had actually served a purpose in giving traffic to the main citadel, a hulking form watched with disinterest as Miriam shrieked in the skies above.

Samuel had never liked the winged-witch, and he was properly scorned at not having been selected to go and fight-- as much as he disliked the shadow-borne even more... he did enjoy killing.

The devil tainted lizard grinned, baring rows upon rows of enamel that weren't meant for dazzling females.

Oh, how he longed for blood...most of his time having been spent recovering after the events of Barthavos. He had to be practically pieced together anew, and his throat and vocal cords were never the same again.

His tail angrily struck against the ground as the memory of embarrassment came flooding in like a white hot blade.

For a lesser scaled-one to attempt to destroy him! It was unfathomable! Impermissible!

And downright outrageous.

He only wished that it had been himself who had finished off the hatchlings father and not Malachi...but perhaps the fates would bring the redhead back within his grasp...yes... Samuel flexed his taloned fingers tightly.

"You brood anymore and you might start laying eggs right here, my friend." The calculating tone only made Samuel all the more sore as his tail twitched about in feigned surprise.

Stepping forward, and wearing a fresh pair of clothes, was none other than Malachi himself.

"You ssure are one to talk... I heard you had to assscend jussst to deal with a human." Samuel turned his scaled head towards the white haired devil that took the form of a flesh-bag. "Perhapss, you are not a** apt to the challenge, a** you would have othersss believe."

"I was having fun. Which is more than I can say for you, looking down below like some feline after a morsel it cannot reach." Malachi smiled thinly, knowing he was grating on his comrade's nerves.

"We all have our rolesss..." Samuel turned and stared back at the battles below, his unnatural sight giving him a good view of things. "And our desssiress..."

Yes...fortune would have to favor him with the return of that youngling.



Certainly, from any one standpoint--- the simple notion of trying to face against an army of dragons (that were decidedly nothing like their ilk written in fables), and had the powers of every element to draw upon in an unlimited fashion was nothing short of madness.

However, it was madness itself that ascended upon Angara. A very surreal, methodical sort of madness, and the Shades would not be turned or swayed by whatever power the enemy flaunted at them.

They served a cause greater than any could muster, a force older than all that stood before them... and their was a very chilling realization in this fact; the madness that they were... sought nothing but their own destruction for it was the will of their lord, their god, their father....the Forgotten One.

So let the enemy blast at them with flame.

Thrust at them with wind.

Hurl the very lightning from the heavens itself at them.

Tear asunder the earth beneath their feet.

Let them waste their power in every effort to try and drive the host back, even though not a single of them made motion to advance. They simply held what they had taken, what had been given to them by the Death Knight, their Champion's herald.

And they would hold with an unwavering resolve of belief in that which they served, so mighty, so righteous, that they should know no fear.

For they were the fear. The stuff of nightmares, the inky blackness in the great void.

And change was coming.

The remnants of the crystalline pieces that had served to transport the forces were scattered about the beach and amongst the bulk of the ground forces that were reinforcing the foothold.

Though each piece, varying in size, shape, and separated either by short distances or lengthy ones--- was not part of Eden., each one very much retained the inert properties of itself.

All it took was the simple touch of the first of apparently many arcane attacks that the dragon-borne employed. As if the land taken by the invading forces was suddenly one large deprived field of tall grass--- the wildfire started.

It spread, from one crystal piece to the next, interconnecting and snaking all along-- even as the magical attacks thrown at the Shades would be rebounded harmlessly away, and in some cases, even literally made as if it never were.

For they were the void manifest. That terrible darkness that consumed all... and they fed richly.

The result would reduce much of that fabled 'awesome fire power' that the dragons so coveted, forcing them to either A) continue to throw magic at their foes and score what little hits they could, B) close in for physical combat, or C) rethink their strategy and pull back.

While it was true that the Bishops had a certain 'magic' all their own to counteract that of the Dragons, most of their efforts were being focused on shielding and reinforcing the damnable sigils they were placing into the very land.

The Rooks were doing their job in getting into the thick of things, keeping the dragonborne back, matching them often times, bulk for bulk, brute strength for brute strength.

The Death-Wings would fly in and out of the fray, striking and often times, groups of them taking hold of an unlucky dragonborne, and carrying it back towards Eden, with Miriam the she-devil herself entering the fray, proving that she was more than a match for the cold blooded things.

"MORE! It must be a proper feast for my Lord!!" Her talons dripped with dark blood, her once pristine wings stained in the blood of dragons, even as she cackled loud and long.





Editor's Note: For the sake of keeping track, I'm going to propose that Eden's breach be at the Shattered Islands, and the host fell upon the township of Neriedes.

Unless we're supposed to be on the shores of the mainland, or apparently there is a village of little renown near Point West, since, looking at the map--- it's way up there, and you had a troop of thousand march all the way along (or fly, whatever), and said scouts also came from there.

Or, is there a village at Port West?

It's important since it will affect the stratagems of all characters involved.

((I post now to avoid it being EXACTLY one month later))

Quit retaliation, this was expected. The dragons were proud bording on arrogant, but they had quite a bit to be proud about. Their prowess and connection with Gaia were not to be underestimated.

Shades were not either. They were to counter to those very things. Each shade had inherited a battle memory created from thousands of years of selection, and each shade was willing to be consumed to see its masters goals. Not only that, but they were resistant to the elements and magic being created from a matierily the world wished did not exist. Shards of ice would impale shades, and if it was not in a non vital area they would continue moving without pain. Flames licked against their great armor and caused it to begin to drip a black blood, but very few fell. The beams and wind would come and the rooks would raise their great shields to push against.

Then there were those bishops. In all their runes and anti-magic they were dedicated to completing their task. Their shadelord commander would be summoned, even against the world and the shade itself's reluctance. Rooks would fall back to encircle their runes, standing strong until an errant spear of earth pierced through one of them and it tumbled right over in a pool of forgotten matter. But the beam would come, and that waling knight would appear.

"Stop... Stop... You do not know what you're doing" It's voice raised above the battle.

However some of the steps in the previously described that could not happen due to Gaia's interference. It seemed the Shadelord's true purpose was not being allowed to begin.

By this time the rooks and shade archers would begin to form some sort of defensive line. Rooks swinging their great instruments of death whenever they had the chance, and blocking blows with their tower shields whenever they were under fire. The archers and magus would fire bolts of forgotten matter, as well as destructive tears of arcane potence against the rising militia.

A second Crystal impacted against the earth as the skies began to fill with more shades, and from it poured more of the dark cycloptic creatures. This time pawns and fewer rooks, infantry. The presence of more escalating the feroicty of attacks and counterattack.

And then one errant beam. Energy fired straight at the wall of rooks in just the right angle. In a moment of suprise the stalwart rooks droped their shields and let the energy blast clear through them. Smaller shades dove out of the way, but even some of them were caught in the blast.

"No..."

The beam tore through the entire camp until it was realized what this perfect angle was for. The shadelord was in the line of fire. And that same powerful energy that Ryugi Kazzamaru was known for started the furnace just as well as any shade could. The burning, the eating away at Gaia, the activation of those shade machines.

And when that began Gaia's assistance around the shadelord would cease. They were not draining energy, nor were they trying to take it as their own. They were killing Gaia. The shadelord's power had the means to begin to clean every grain of dust of any life force or magical essence... Around the shade it was more a strugle for Gaia to survive than for it to send attacks.

The ultimate form of salting the earth.

This of course was only around the shadelord or the machines its aura alit. Amongst the front lines Gaia's wrath was still felt impacting and felling shades.

"Why do you... Ugh... Please... Kill..." The shade spoke through great anguish as it began to take steps forward, "... me..."

With that the pawns moved forward behind a wall of rooks. They were making their way towards groups of militia, and when they did they would break through the rooks, fallen or not, to engage in melee. Their weapons, pointed appendages, and sharp claws wanted only for war.

The sky was darkening with the death knights dragons and the demons of eden, and yet another crystal could be seen falling on a course to the earth. Most as usual were splashing into the waves.

Oh he was laughing, he was laughing so hard that when Ryugi spoke and the laughter died into chuckles Max was wiping tears from his mismatched eyes. And then Ryugi was talking and Max was listening.

I tell you Max, I would have fit right in with that group of yours. I had quite a group myself when I was younger too, you know.

He honestly never knew that. Somehow he always imagined the usually solitary Ryugi being, well...solitary. A lone drake, giant in a tiny mans world. He rode in on...very fancy boots, and righted wrongs, and then ever the traveling hero he was off again. The Lone Ranger. The White Knight. The...well apparently he was entirely wrong. He cocked and eyebrow and said.

Oh?

Ryugi shifted his position and got comfortable. Max knew that position. That was story time position. This was the point were the elder took his large walking staff carved from the Islands oldest tree and stoked the fire, then drew shapes in the embers that rose up. All the village children gathered around him. This was story time. Ryugi was no Shadowland Elder, but Maximos was still a small village boy at heart, and took the same folded leg seating position he always had, and probably always would.

Angara is a hard enough place to get to, let alone leave, especially when you're a young dragon that had never fully transformed before. After several events that had happened earlier in my life, I decided that Angara just didn't feel like home to me. Now, obviously that changed over time, but when I was young, my mind was only on the memories of the bad things that happened. And so, I decided to leave. My newly bought sword, Sol Blade, in hand, and without an ounce of sailing knowledge, I set out to Port South to obtain a boat.

Ryugi grinned at this. Maximos grinned in return. This was a grinning sort of happy moment. But the Shadow really could not say he was surprised. He had seen dragons living in houses, eating human food, living human lives. He had not seen dozens of drakes pouring through the skies too the island or back. Boats werent that far of a stretch. His grin grew into a smile, and the story continued.

It didn't take me long to get to the town. It was full of activity. Little in the way of merchant ships were built, as most goods were flown in by drakes whenever they needed to be transported, or were carried overland by caravans to keep any possible outsiders from suspecting they were in a land of dragons. However, those that were made were made for fishing, and getting food for the town.

It was childish wonderment. Max's face looked innocent and dumbfounded, and as if his mouth opened in an O had just said "Wooow". But it didnt. He had heard of ports, he had been to many. But a dragon port. Yes, he expected they existed but Ryugi's description gave him a wonderful mental image and he wondered if they might see one at some time.

Now, as you can imagine, Angaran fishing boats would have to be pretty tough to handle the rough seas around the continent, as well as defend against some of the ...erm... larger sea creatures that weren't so friendly or easy to tame as the common fish. And, as you might expect, it might not have been very easy to convince one of them to give them up considering how few of them there were.

Leviathan, to be specific. Though Maximos couldnt for the life of him reason why. He for some reason imagined the sea's filled with the giant trashing serpents, coiling and crushing boats. Leaping from the water in big splashing wave that bowled ships onto one side and sent their crews helplessly into Davey Jones Locker. Though, the idea of these mighty serpents being able to pull a full grown drake into the sea...it seemed unlikely. Maybe Ryugi was referencing something bigger! Max's eyes widened.

But, after much looking, I was able to find a drake that was willing to try and get me off the continent. He thought I was mad, trying to head to the mainland, but, when I offered to pay, his eyes lit up and he gladly offered his services. Little did I know that he was a shady fellow, and by that, I mean that he was more out to get my money. Being a "country bumpkin," as humans say, I had little knowledge of the dishonest, and I was easily swindled.

Ryugi seemed far away as he recalled the events from his past. Honestly it took Max home. Aria was very far away, across space and time. And the events Ryugi described from his youth fit perfectly into the kind of time setting in which Maximos himself lived, if not something a tad more modernized. Maximos was gone, vanished, some seven thousand years. Longer than, if he remembered, Ryugi was alive. Ryugi remembered a place, Maximos remembered a time, and nostalgia was shared by all. Until mention of swindling. His face grimaced as if he had just eaten something horribly sour. The image of a perfect Angara had been betrayed. Angara was now rife with scoundrels.

So, as these situations usually go, I was eventually left marooned at sea on a dingy, or what might pass as one for an Angaran fishing vessel. It was small in comparison to the mighty boat I'd previously been aboard. It was only big enough for one person, had a small sail, was barely armored at all, and only had a single, cramped cabin in which to take shelter from the elements. Needless to say, I didn't know what to do.

Max snorted and did his best to stifle a chuckle. No, this wasnt mocking laughter. It wasnt the possibly expected "Haha! Sucks to be you!" sort of sarcastic chortle either. This laughter was born a mental image that simply would not leave. It super imposed itself over the picture of a young Ryugi stranded at sea. Here was Ryugi, not lost, but strong and confident, standing on the bow a ship. The foot of his knee high boots lodged in between the spokes of the steering wheel. His hands on his hips, spikey hair billowing, a dark red long and tattered scarf with a skull emblem on it. Just like the one on his eye patch, a patch black like the scruff on his face. Sol Blade at his side. A hook for a hand that read in scratched on letters "Ragnarok." And carved into side of the boat? "The Gwrold Dragron". Because while Max spoke draconic, he did not, nor ever spoke Draklish. Like Engrish. So he imagined that bad english with a dragon accent would sound alot like growls tossed into speech. BUT, beside that! There he stood! Tall and iconic. Epic in his own right. Ryugi Kazamaru. Dragon Pirate, King of the Eight Seas. Rawr.

At which point Maximos' laughter spilled forth like water from a broken dam.

I'm s-

More laughter. He held his sides.

Dragon P---Bwahahahahahaha!

His cheeks were burning, his eyes watering, but he managed to choke it back and say.

I'm sorry! Its not you! Pl-heheh-please continue, I promise to explain when your done.

The rest of the laughter slowly died away and he let the Dragon Pirate King, infact, continue.

I don't know exactly how long my tiny boat moved across the sea. By now, I was sure it had been several days, and I was hungrier than I'd ever been in my life. As if my luck wasn't bad enough, one of Angara's many storms decided to kick up, and after much fighting, my little vessel was destroyed and I blacked out.

Ryugi shook his head and chuckled as he talked about his mishap. Max however looked serious. As if this event was recent and he had almost lost a close friend. Of course it wasnt, but a good story connects the listener to it as if it is happening in the now so this was to be expected.

The next memory I have was waking up in a cabin of a ship. Ironically enough, it was a fishing vessel, but it was a human fishing vessel. As it turns out, they'd pulled me out of the water only a few days from port. Of course, I knew a little of the human tongue from my teachings to understand what they were asking me for the most part, but I could barely reply to them, so I kept quiet for the most part until we reached port.

This was both hard, and intriguing for Maximos to imagine. Ryugi had always spoke the common Gaian tongue so perfectly. Not only had he never displayed a draconic accent, Ryugi had never even stooped to using coloquiallisms. Indeed, in his recollection, Ryugi was even sparing with his use of the conjunction. He spoke properly and formally at all times. But none the less, Maximos continued to listen.

By now, I'd been fed, but after the ship made port, I quickly left to try and avoid any suspicions. Of course, several days later, I was hungry again, and couldn't trust myself to awkwardly walk up to the shops to purchase a meal for myself. Plus, this was your typical port back in those days. It was crawling with rouges and all sorts of nasty individuals that were looking for an easy target. I would have been hit for sure. And so, I did the only other thing I could think of.

Ryugi paused for a moment, letting the shock of his actions set in. Max was on the edge of his seat with anticipation. Though not really, because his seat was the floor and the edge was a whirling sand storm of death. But Max's eyes were locked, his attention was fully on Ryugi. He was entirely ready for the dragon to say something like. "I begged" or "I put on a light show for gold" or even " I ate garbage". These were not the most glamorous things for a dragon to do, but still fully acceptable under the boyscout code.

I stole a loaf of bread.

Max did not do a double take. Infact Maximos never left the first take. His eyes were still locked, his face still eager his attention was still fully on Ryugi. It was like he was waiting for Ryugi to tell the story. Still waiting for that cliffhanger to finally drop. Ryugi's words looked as if they had bounced off Maximos' head like a rubber ball of brick face. Maximos, in truth, did not react at all. He stared straight forward, and a few moments later his eyes almost seemed to become glossy.

The silence would have lasted an eternity without any sign of change, but then Maximos' cheeks gave. And all at once like a fresh painting with turpentine tossed on it, the features of his expression melted away. Maximos was left with a blank face. It was not cold, it was nothing. It was not angry, it was nothing. He was not smiling, his jaw was hanging slightly. So slight it would not drool, but wide enough to be noticed as hanging.

And it stood that way. As Ryugi continued the story, it continued that way. Max's face was unmoving. Not angry or dark. Devoid of reaction.

Well, to be honest, I tried to pay for it. But they didn't accept my gold coins as currency, something about funny markings, and I really needed the food... So, in haste, I dropped the gold coins on the counter, and took the bread. Then, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

It didnt help. At least when Max broke reality he had the courtesty to do it a way which would force a recovery. Ryugi had broken reality and left Max in a field of glass wondering where the floor was, and if gravity still applied.

Guards began to chase me as I charged through the streets with my prize in tow. Of course, being a young dragon with twice their strength, I was easily able to slip away from the first batch, but before I could take a bite, more were on me. I knew I couldn't run forever, and so, I drew Sol Blade and prepared to fight!

This man it worse. It showed as Max's eyes intensified. There was a slight glow in his right eye as he wondered, yes actually wondered and checked to see if his friend was making this whole story up. It was easier for him to imagine Ryugi a liar, than a thief, a rogue, a member of Gaia's seedy underbelly. A flawed thing! There was a black spot on the white sheet that was the dragon, and though the whiteness went on for ages, the black spot the size of a pin p***k was all he could see.

They thought I was crazy, and laughed at me, and because they thought I was your average kid, they only came at me one at a time at first. But once I'd put down the first one by denting his helmet and knocking him out in one single blow, they thought better of it and charged.

Ryugi hopped into the air and spun around to face the other wall, his voice growing in excitement.

I couldn't believe how uncoordinated their attacks seemed! I felt like I could see every move, read every swing and slice. And I quickly turned that against them, and soon, they were attacking each other, and falling over one another. All was going great, until the big one started shouting something, an incantation I soon learned, and a blast of fire shot from the lance he was carrying and slammed into me. I hadn't expected humans to be using magic!

Ryugi stumbled backwards as the magic from his memories seemed to strike him, and he collapsed to one knee, grinning.

I shook myself off, but before I could fully recover, I was struck hard by a sword across my back! Luckily for me, my dragonsteel mail absorbed the cutting force, but down I went. Then, before I could get back up, they began to stomp on me, but I held my bread tighter than ever, and then, I heard a loud bang, and smoke clouded my vision. before I knew it, I felt gloved hands grabbing me, and saw dark brown boots pulling me away from the smokey battle.

Ryugi pulled himself back up, and brushed himself off as his eyes shined with remembrance at the events. As Ryugi looked at him, Maximos' eyes returned to the dragon. And they blinked, three times. Something about draconic omniscence against the constantly frail and easily felled humans caused his interest to slip away. His eyes were locked, but that particular quality was a chunk of lard thrown in the lock, it made it greasy.

When the pulling stopped, I was greeted by a man with dark brown boots, brown hair, green eyes, a thin build, two daggers, and a cloak. I didn't know what to do, and I quickly reached for Sol Blade, but he calmly introduced himself as Matthew. He was a Rouge, and he'd seen me getting harassed by the guards.

Maximos listened and did not speak, because Ryugi was not only finishing his story, but because...well...he was still in shock. His eyes showed it, and they seemed increasinly more intense. It was like something was building behind his face. And even though a slight smirk was present on his lips, there was fire behind that. Or was it darkness? Or nothing maybe? There was no telling. Just as there was no telling how much of what was said sunk in until Maximos got this first statement.

Then Ryugi finished, he said.

I'm glad to have gotten to know you a little more, Max.

And in the same breath with which he finished saying that. Max said, impatiently, almost accidentally biting the end off the sentence. He wasnt angry, it was suprise, shock, awe, and several other emotions that forced the volume of his voice to shockingly rise above his normal inside speaking voice.

You did WHAT?!

There was silence after ward, and just as Ryugi was about to react he tagged on.

And then you ran?! That makes you guilty! I...I...

He was at a loss for words, it was visible in the way his eyes darted around the room trying to find said lost words.

...I dont think I know you anymore.

Maximos was not laughing.

Maximos was not smiling. Infact, the look on his face seemed to intensify as Ryugi continued to speak. It was as if Maximos was a fire, and suddenly instead of pouring water on him, Ryugi poured some more wood.

Well, if its one thing my long life has taught me, Max, it is that no being is perfect. No system is perfect. In short, n--

No.

Maximos cut in, fiercely. His tone icy and dagger-like. This was the sort of tone that told a rogue god that sacrificing millions of lives, or re-writing the flow of time so that he could have more worshipers was wrong, even if it brought about the gods eventual death.

No Ryugi. That defeatist talk. Its weakness.

Max repeated and shook his head briskly. He even stood up abruptly, and jetted a figure out at Ryugi. Not just any finger, it was an accusatory finger.

Nothing is perfect, but that is no excuse to behave imperfectly. And then laugh about it! We are flawed, and our greatness comes from working against our nature to remove those flaws. No sitting and grinning as we embrace our flawed nature.

He shook his head and waved his hand as if that alone had the power to rip away all excuses and leave only the facts. Like ripping a table cloth off in a flourish and leaving all the dishes crashed on the floor, but the table empty.

Apology does not negate a crime committed. What about those guards you injured? Even if their bruises heal, the fear and pain they had to face and the memory of such is not erased by coins and a five letter word!

The pointy finger stabbed forward like a knife at the air between them.

A dragon should know this! Especially one hundreds of years older who knew better!

Maximos' mouth was open, but words were not coming out. It was as if so very much wanted to come out, that nothing actually did or could fit through the door. And then finally something fell out, something soft spoken just before his mouth shut.

I...I can not do this. Not after this.

And Maximos immediately made his way to the nearest wall, pulled a paintbrush from inside his jacket and began drawing an archway and various magical symbols to surround it.

Hmph.

Or a noise quite similar was what was heard.

And your supposed to be innocent...

Was mumbled just under his breath as Maximos finished drawing in a round rune with two spikes shapes at the bottom right hand corner of the archway. It was pretty obvious what came next. Black cracks shot across the center of the drawn doorway, and out across the entire wall and then the rock face of the structure fell away. What was left, was an archway in the stone leading into blackness.

Max did not even look back as he stepped through, and as he did the blackness oozed back into the cracks and the sketches of the archway were left staining the wall, two or three of the runes still glowed a pale violet as they "cooled".

The glass orb fell silent immediately, and awkwardly silent. There was a feeling of foreboding. A sort of bad after taste left on the air. The silence was only broken when Ankokuko fell a few degrees to the side, only to be supported by Maximos' bag. Ryugi was alone in the glass ball, rolling through a nightmare sandstorm, to Nocturne only knows where.