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"You are the reason why I was cast out!" Valenarr returned, focusing more of his will into the fireball, which had been stopped by the human. He had forgotten his ability to manipulate a few various elements. "Associating with humans!" He shouted. "Plotting a conspiracy!" He spat. "Planning to overthrow the throne!" He recounted the charges upon which he was exile. "The verdict: guilty! The sentence: eternal exile! And for that, human, who was the one I associated with so stupidly in my ignorance, you will die a slow and horrible death!"

Valenarr poured more of his will into the sphere of flame, edging it closer and closer to the human named Alex, closer to its destination. "Die, you foul beast! You don't even deserve to be called something so lowly as a human!" He shouted, his golden eyes wide and his feathery white eyebrows turned downwards in a wide-eyed scowl. "You will suffer! You will die!"

He poured yet even more of his will and strength into the fiery sphere, hoping to end this human's life as slowly as possible. Alex was making it easier. The closer the fiery sphere got, the more Alex risked getting burned badly before actually dying.

Valenarr wasn't in a hurry, though his actions spoke otherwise. He would kill him slowly and painfully, in front of the Youland if he had to. Hacking, slashing, skinning, flaying, maiming; he would make this human beg for Valenarr to kill him.

"Why?" He shouted. "Why me? Why did you choose me to befriend, why did you choose me to get involved?" He demanded. "Of all Mirrians, why me?!" He didn't even give him a chance to answer.

"You've made a mistake most fatal, human!" He shouted, unable to really feed the fireball anymore than he had. This was becoming most difficult. Were he able to hack the man up with his blades, he would have done so by now. But sadly he was upon the wall, and in a posistion most advantageous against a person so focused upon face-to-face combat. It was a good thing Valenarr had learned a few spells, albiet basic ones.

"I will make you beg for me to kill you!"

Valenarr watched in horror as his fireball was slowly laid to rest by the rain, which extinguished his will and magical fire before he could thrust it into the human's chest. He looked over, wide-eyed and angered further at the Youland, who had obviously taken measures to stop him. Unexpected, certainly, but she would pay.

She was down on her knees, now, and Valenarr rushed over, drawing his katana as he ran, eyes narrowed with lethal intent. "You shouldn't..." He hissed. "Have gotten in the way!" He finished, shouting, as he raised up both swords, about to stab the downed Youland.

He kept his swords raised like this for what felt to him like a lifetime. He began to remember, the moments not long ago, where she was both fighting with him and friendly.

He remembered how they met, on such strange circumstances, how he could have easily killed them all; they were so unprepared. It would've been so easy. But he didn't...

Like now. He could kill her at any moment, now. He could force those blades through her fragile flesh and watch her die at his own hands... He could destroy her, rend her to pieces if he so wished, and then move on, unhindered, once again, to the human. Zilden's will for them to not murder one another would have no meaning; he would leave before the fool returned once the deed was done.

Valenarr's golden eyes blinked. He was soaked from the rain. His white hair dripped upon the ground, and he was breathing heavily as he was reared up, ready to stab the Youland through the shoulders.

He brought the blades down, in a motion that seemed like an eternity. He would change his path from here on out by making this choice. There would be no turning back.

c***k!

A pair blades lodged themselves in the ground between the Youland's legs, the Mirrian wielding them hunched over. Her dress was now cut from the knee down.

He had gone soft, at this critical moment. He could not bring himself to kill her. He even yanked his blades out of the ground, bringing one back as if to slice off her head, but he dropped the blade as he brought his hand forward. He stumbled back, picking up the sword that clattered to the ground, and fell forward onto one knee, disoriented. What was it that couldn't let him kill her?

He couldn't kill her, he probably couldn't even kill Alex. What would it solve? What would it accomplish? Nothing. It wouldn't get him accepted back into his ancestral home. It wouldn't allow him peace. It wouldn't grant him anything... save for possibly remorse... after the glory faded.

He was still breathing heavily as he stood. He looked over to the human named Alex, slowing his breathing. "I lost... I lost my cool..." He said, looking away. He wouldn't apologize. At least... not right now.

Valenarr scowled, and looked at her for a brief moment, before planting a hand in her side and pushing her over. He remained silent, staring at her first, then to Alex, and then back to her, then back to Alex again.

"I am..." He took a deep breath. "Fine." He said with a certain bitterness.

He stood up, dusting himself off, and putting his swords in his sheaths, staring daggers at Alex. Her intervention had snapped him out of his rage. They were alike, Valenarr and Ash'rael.

"Rather... I will be fine..." He stared back at Alex. "There will be another time, human." Valenarr would not address this man by his name unless by accident. "Another time where you will pay for your crimes... But right now, I am weary..." He stretched slightly, and turned, taking a few steps away, only to stop and turn his head to face Alex. "My advice to you is to watch your back... for I am not over what you have done, nor may I ever be."

Valenarr seldom made idle threats.

"But as of right now... you are safe while the beast slumbers..." He walked over to a wall and leaned against it, sliding down slowly and resting for now. He wasn't asleep, but simply at rest, idle, and complacent for the moment.

He breathed deeply now, focusing on regulating his breathing in order to cool down.

He would pay... it wouldn't be this day, nor possibly even tomorrow, nor the next day...

But Alex would pay.

((Again, post supplemental, so its not necessary to read this, I just happen to like this method of revealing Zilden's past or other story elements via notes he keeps in his house))

From draft entitled Speech To Solminic Scholars

Attention my fellow scholars, scientists, engineers and intellectuals. I come before you today with the most dire of warnings. Long has my research, and my research and opinions been the source of much ridicule to these halls, but I beg you, if never before, and never again, you listen to me this once.
In my continued research into magics and its workings I have uncovered a most grievous side effect of the neglect of magic here on the Isle of Soltanarath...
...The end of the world.
I understand that this must seem a ludicrous concept to all of you, but I assure you I have a great deal of evidence to support my theory. It has long been believed that many eons ago there was some sort of catastrophic event resulting in an apocalyptic destruction of the world and nearly 99 percent of its populations. The teachings of the Solmi indicate that this catastrophe was caused by an overuse of magic, and that the heavens set out to cleanse the impure. However, all my initial research indicates that the opposite is true. That it was in fact a neglect of magic that brought about the end of the world. More specifically it was magic neglect here on what we now know as Soltanarath that was the major factor in the catastrophe.
Several artifcats I have uncovered, as well as what few tablets and books I can recover from the ruins give hints of Soltanarath being some kind of magical sieve for the rest of the world. That magic concentration here is so strong, that it is required we its citizens use magic to preserve the entirety of the world.
Outlined in my publication Elementary Theories on Metamagical Physics, I described the workings of magic and a dimension known as the Ether. Further investigation into the Ether as a whole has revealed that the Ether is an exact copy of our own dimension. The issue is that the Ether, which is fundamentally malleable (explaining the many facets of magic), displays a strange desire to be rigorous and well defined as our own dimension is. The end result is that the Ethereal dimension will eventually cause decay in our dimension, ultimately replacing it entirely; but not without first cataclysmically resetting the world population.
The news, however, did not stop there. This "resetting" of the world is what we know to be the Apocalypse. However, it is not the only one of it's kind, as we believe it to be. It is actually the fourteenth (Historian's Note: It was later learned that Zilden made this number up. He was just looking for a big scary number). The reason no record exists of any previous catastrophe is because most history records are destroyed in the disaster, and with the catastrophic destruction of most of the population, many reliable history record keeping are also lost. As such, every time "The Apocalypse" occurs. We forget about the previous one.
This vicious cycle must end. The most alarming discovery I have made is that the world can only be reset so many times. It can only endure so many Apocalypses before the universe itself ceases to exist.

To help you visiualize, think of a chain. Each time the world is reset, a link in the chain breaks, and once you break enough links, the whole chain becomes useless. This is what is happening to our universe as we speak, and all because we neglect magic. We are running out of time. If we correct the problem immediately (I will discuss how, should there be interest)), there is still much hope for the preservation of our world.
Otherwise, we are doomed repeat history's mistakes

Please, I beg of you, hear my desperate plea.

(Inspired by Soloist's supplemental posts, I will begin the future log of Valenarr DeMirro: Mirrian Exile... Tis supplementary, and not really necessary, but I'm bored, and therefore will do as I please. blaugh )

From the Pages of Valenarr DeMirro's Autobiography:

It was towards this time I began to realize really how much I loathed these mortals that were now surrounding me, these foolish, sun-scorched, dribble-minded fools who stumbled about in the daylight like imbeciles.

However I could not bring myself, for some strange reason, to kill the Youland Ash'rael. She and I bore something in common that I did not realize. We were both outcasts from our respective worlds, only she had no such shelter as I had from my ancestors, but I found no solace upon her world either, nor would she find any among my former world. Perhaps there was that kind of similarity we bore that kept me from destroying her, but I still hated her for interfering. I had lost my will to fight; an oddity and rather lucky for the human Alexander Trask.

However I knew that one day I had to have my revenge against this man. I would hurt him, beat him into a pulp, and then finally torture him until he begged for death at my hands. There was no way I could sit by and let his crimes go unpunished.

However that would be for another time, when I would decide just how to destroy him, how to hurt him.

I had to honor Zilden's request, no matter how much I was loath to do so, to not murder anyone within his domain. And so I would wait until later. I was also not very excited to have to go to this carnival, which probably differed greatly from our Mirrian carnivals, which involved bloodsports and gambling.

I myself had forgotten, at this point, what had happened to the dryad and the other creature that had been in our group, but I would find out soon enough, at this point, and it was not really important to me at the present time.

What lingered upon my mind was why I had met this man again, this creature named Alexander Trask, who had gotten me exiled oh so long ago, who had played a key role in my sentencing. Were he never in existence, this autobiography would not be made, as I would still be in the Grand Undercaverns and living a happy life amongst my ancestors and siblings.

However this would not come to be, and I would be banished to this sun-scorched plane of existence...

I would, however, be presented with an opportunity to get back at them all for being damnably ignorant... And I would take it. Gleefully.

Zilden's answer came by way of a chuckle. "Of course they can't Alex. Do you think I'd waste my time in this deathtrap of a chamber if I didn't intend to fly out of here? It'll be a shame seeing the lab burnt to the ground, but I'm sure I can recall any important notes I leave behind." This was, of course, a lie, Zilden often had trouble remembering his own last name, but he wanted to create a false sense of empathy for the loss of his home, because he was about to force everyone in the room to get into a very dangerous contraption that bore the potential to plumett from incredible heights. He took a moment to gather some papers from around the room, then, when he'd stuffed his knapsack to the bursting point with illegible notes and diagrams he stood near the flying machine and said "Everyone ready to leave?" But he didn't wait for an answer, it was merely a formality "Good. Now then. Runway lights activate" And what happened next was...


...Well nothing happened next. With a frustrated sigh, Zilden repeated himself "Runway lights activate." And again nothing happened. With an impatient stamp in the ground Zilly muttered something about his parents and their goddamn theatrics, then set his bag on the ground and said, with as much gusto as could be expected of someone like him "Runway lights. ACTIVATE!!" including a dramatic point and finishing pose as if illuminating an exceptionally long hallway was a dramatic and exciting thing. But sure enough, a series of braziers dug into the ground lit a long stone runway that extended off into the darkness, so he at the very least, got his desired results. "Okay. Everyone get in. They've probably reached the library by now and won't take long in finding the passage down to this chamber." However, for as nonchalantly as he'd said "Get in." Zilden was now faced with a strange predicament. The flying machine was barely spacious enough to accomodate one person, perhaps two if they got rather intimate with each other, and he now had to find room for four bodies. His stunning genius swinging into action, he produced the answer: "Hm." and continued to stare hopelessly at the machine.

((P.S. I've almost finished writing an evil character profile for one of the guards destroying Zilden's house, but right now I'm sleepy, so I'll finish it tomorrow))

((*shrug* XD You'd have to ask the guys...))

Ash fell over when pushed and sat there for awhile, listening to the conversations. So, they had to go to the festival...but...but...what if she was caught?! That would prove disastrous since she was still a 'convict' on the run. What would she do if she was caught? Would...would her friends protect her? These newfound friends?

What if they didn't? Would she just...die? In a festival with so many people, it'd be impossible to run if they discovered her. Even if she did manage to run, what would happen to her friends? They'd have trouble for harbouring a Youland.

"I...don't think that I should go with you," she said quietly, her voice filled with uncertainty. What good would it do anyway? They didn't owe her anything. She was just a burden on their backs. She didn't even have very useful magick!

"I'd be troublesome for you..." What would be the point? It was either die here, or die later...it was inevitable. She was marked and definately a target. Many were out for her blood. Even the Mirran...Valenarr...he wouldn't want her around. He'd already said so. And...and she had thought they could've been friends. They were similar people with similar problems...and yet...and yet...

She sat there, not looking sad. Not sad, but...resolved. Like she had already made her decision to stay.

"Bah!" Valenarr spat, siding, for once, with the Youland. "If you stay here, no doubt you'll need someone to protect you from whatever tears Zilden's house asunder at this very moment. I'll stay with you, for now." Valenarr said. Though he had a slight problem and a slight score to settle with the Youland, he didn't really mind her enough to let her stay here and die. "Perhaps if Zilden's flying machine takes off within their sight, whomever is above may give chase to it and not bother seeing what is below here."

He scoffed. "Thus making staying here less suicidal and more practical, instead of taking off in a contraption that might explode at any moment, as Zilden says."

He looked at Alexander. "And besides, he already said he wouldn't have all of us in there at once. And the gods know that I'm not exactly wanted around... nor do I want most of you around..." He sneered, turning towards the Youland. "Hopefully there won't be too many of them, but the Youland seemed ample distraction for one highly angered Mirrian in the heat of combat. She'll have her uses if we're attacked."

He turned back to Zilden and Alexander. "Oh, but don't get me wrong. Go ahead and flee like cowards. After all, both of you have much to live for, and not much use for either of us. The Youland and I, on the other hand, well... We're not very liked by any authority..." He said with mock humor. This was quite true.

What had, after all, compelled him to volunteer for this Youland's safety? Was it his immense dislike in humans? Or was it the strange connection, this strange likeness, that their two races had in common, his and Ash's? Both were hunted for various reasons. Both were outcasts from normal society. The only differences were the color of their skin, and their values and their potentials...

As a matter of fact, with Ash's strength in magic, or at least magical potential, and Valenarr's physical prowess, they complimented each other quite well... But strangely enough, Valenarr didn't see that compliment.