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Athan was not a fan of the desert. It was hot, wearing his armor made him feel like a potato wrapped in tinfoil, and the heavy robes the guide had passed out before the journey were itchy as hell. Were it not for the giant sword lashed to his back, Athan would have looked like a monk on pilgrimage. A very large, battle-scarred monk, but a monk nonetheless.

Athan had fared better than most, though. His size was a bit of a detriment, but his ability to adapt to most extreme conditions was a bit of an ace in the hole for the big guy. Sure, he was basically soaked with sweat and his appetite had seemed to wane over the course of the journey, but at least he wasn't face down in the sand, gasping for water. He had seen the sun-bleached skeletons, and was somewhat thankful that they weren't out hopelessly wandering the desert in search of this masked man.

Kael had been the first person Athan had sought out for the journey. If there was one person Athan could have trusted to stick with him to the end, it was Kael. In some ways, Kael's determination surpassed even Athan's. He would have never admitted it in public, but he was somewhat envious of the smaller swordsman. Athan's entire life had been dedicated to warfare, he had no skills to fall back on when the fighting stopped. Kael had a knack for repairing things, though. On more than one occasion Athan had been surprised by the guy's technological savvy.

But to assume that the fighting would ever end was naive on Athan's part. Even if they were somehow able to stop The Forgotten One and Alpha, the fighting wouldn't stop. There was always going to be a war somewhere, some nation in need of an extra sword. Maybe Alpha had a point when he said the world wasn't worth saving.

But unlike Alpha, Athan had seen things worth fighting for. The young fans at the Heaven or Hell tournament, his friends, all of the soldiers that had died fighting for something truly good. His dreams had done far more than just give him an arm. From those visions, Athan had found a purpose, a cause to champion.

Thanks to those dreams, Athan crossed a vast expanse of desert, dragging along a small group of strangers and allies alike, only to end up in front of a cave that, for all intents and purposes, might not even hold the person they were looking for.

Even so, if so much as a hint remained as to either his or Alpha's location, it would be worth it.

Athan pulled back his hood and turned back to face what remained of the fifth expedition.

"Whoever wants to leave now, feel free. I won't hold it against you."

He already knew the answers that awaited him, though. They had made the trek through the desert to get this far, why turn back now?

((To those people that showed interest: Kael is the only character set in stone for this expedition. I believe Roen, Rage, Silver, and Nox had all shown some interest. I will be accepting a maximum of four people, so if any others want to hop in, now's the time. Feel free to post following this as long as the party hasn't reached the max size.))

The stately butler followed silent behind Vahn, outside of the cabin and into the empty night. The land was formless and waste as far as the eye could see and dark. But the darkness faded as a pyre was lit.

The fire was brilliant, bright, strong, and beautiful. Walter honestly wished he could have seen it, but he never turned around. As Vahn burned what was, Walter respected his unspoken wishes and turned his back on the past in view of the future. No words need be said, what transpired transcended them.

And the future was...a large empty waste land containing absolutely no form or method of promised transportation. The flame behind them roared like a vicious and savage lion. It was deafening and yet just over the cries of dying logs was heard a faint whinny. A horse. Walter looked straight up and immediately assumed an apologetic tone.

I'm very sorry, please forgive him.

He shook his head softly.

He is...eccentric. The master knows nothing of modern marvels, and so makes do with magic and what he feels would be most natural for his era. He hasnt a clue how odd and outlandish it all seems to most.

If Vahn looked up, as Walter was he would see it in the sky, large and growing larger as he rushed downwards. It was a carriage made of black wood and drawn by two horses. Only these horses were not natural equine beasts, they had cracks and fissures all over their form like statues which bled indigo and cobalt hues. Just past the knees the stone skin was missing entirely and what remained were glowing magical hooves. The horses were driven by a black non-descript silhouette in a white riding gloves, who's outlines seemed blurry as if he were nothing more than misplaced shadow.

Its much, I know...but it will get us there.

And far back, several feet above the carriage was a man. The carriage landed. The horses blew gouts of blue smoke from their nostrils and stamped at the ground. Then the man landed, twin bursts of black poured from his boots which were alive with glowing purple threads stitched into odd tribal designs, but which all vanished as he passed behind the carriage.

I'm so sorry we're late Walter, D used all the talisman paper to make doodles, I had to find more.

He said, his warm yet proper voice preceding him. The man stepped out from behind the carriage into the light. He was pale with spiked back and evenly combed navy blue hair, and mismatched eyes. One white, one black. He had black pants, a black vest, and a pinstripe dress shirt of dark blue or purple or both with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. As he stepped from behind the carriage, he shook his head as if working something loose from it, and the driver of the carriage vanished leaving only a sheet or paper in his wake to fall gently to the seat. At which point the mans mismatched eyes snapped open as he seemed to just then recognized the fire.

I hope I'm not too late.

He stepped forward, offering Walter a folded sheet of paper, and then giving Vahn a silent respectful nod of his smiling face. Vahn might recognize the man, he had delivered him his sword last year. Regardless, Water accepted the paper, and said.

Not at all, thank you sir.

And seemed to pay the man no more heed, save for a nod before looking to Vahn, softly smiling, and then walking to the open carriage. Its black wood was well polished as were the silver trims and both had an orange red hue against the raging pyre as did the marble skin covering the horses. Walter would of course not enter, but stand beside it and wait for his guest.

Tell me why you're here. The fame? The money? I know it's not the women. Well, I shouldn't say that, should I? You came here for one woman, and now you're after two. A lost love and one that's simply... lost.

"Get out of my head."

Oh, I will do no such thing. You do so love to play the hero, don't you, little Axel? Always searching, never resting, throwing yourself away so that others may prosper or perish... and here you are, taking one step after another into failure. It's rather impressive that you're able to so completely ruin yourself each time. I should give you a reward.

"The hell are you talking about, old maGGGG-GGRRRR---

"GYAAAAAAAAARRHH--"



Itchy.

Tasty.

The meager allowance of food and the thick robes to block out the beating sun would wear thin on most anyone's psyche. The man in the back was no exception, although it was questionable if if his psyche was there in the first place. He had grown to almost accept the now-bearable itch of the robes that covered his head and the seemingly cruel lack of food he had been given. Fortunately, there was plenty of water to be had underneath the robes he wore.

This was not a tour.

Several strands of green hair poked out from underneath the hood; dulled and wet from sweat. Fireball? Sure. Burning building, yeah, for a couple minutes.

"But a whole..."

He didn't believe in gods.

... desert?!"

He had nothing to damn it with.

His anger was directed at nobody in particular - in fact, since he was facing away from everyone else, one would assume he was actually angry at the desert itself. The big jerk, being all gigantic and hot. In short order he turned around and rejoined the group, his hood slightly jarred by his outburst and revealing a bit more of his face. A thick scar crossed his nose, obscured by a heavy bandage, in between two sullen eyes with equally sullen pupils.

The trip here had been, to say nothing of it, a mystery. Weather it was forced amnesia or simply him not caring enough to remember, he had joined this journey but barely said a thing. A few "mm-hmms," maybe a "no" here and there, but until this very point things were hazy. He wasn't sure why he had even agreed to this - and he wasn't even sure what it was they were doing. But he had nothing else now. Nothing to live for, nothing to die for.

Rage was not a happy camper.

"Tch. Same to you."

Kael didn't seem to be a happy camper, even aside from the slightly unusual amount of bite in the reply. He was pointedly staring ahead of the group, , though his face was better covered than the rest of the group- he didn't go and remove any of his cover to talk. He was a bit obvious for other reasons though. While he'd kept the robes to help himself cover up and get a bit of protection from the sand, they were looped up short, ending around his knee level, and the spare was tossed over the pack he'd been hauling around. Which left his boots sticking out clearly, besides the tail of his duster, and the fact that he was carrying a sword around as well- or two, the second not quite concealed beneath the robes, very end of the hilt sticking out.

He was probably most identifiable though, by the wide brim, beat up old had he'd tugged down over his head, bandanna pulled up over his nose and hood tucked up to cover his ears and hair, covering himself except for the strip of skin across his eyes, slightly sunburnt.

While he might have had reasons beyond the heat to be cranky, that was certainly one helluva reason. He had reason enough to suspect that he was the only one there without some sort of superhuman resilience against the stuff, and even on the little bit of his face exposed he was showing heavy sweat. He'd had to carry along his gauntlets, not daring to wear anymore leather and or steel than his boots, but even so, and protected the very best he could manage, it was hot as hell, except when it was cold as hell- desert nights were no picnic, especially when you were covered in the sweat of the day. It was a nice change of pace though.

People probably knew who he was by now- it wasn't as if one walked a good portion of a desert in absolute silence, and he pulled his mask down often enough to take some water in or a spare bit of food- he may not have been wealthy, but he could afford some cheap healthy stuff, granola and jerky, things that lasted well and could give him a little more strength. He'd found that and the spare water he carried well worth the extra weight.

Even so, he hadn't yet spilled the beans. He knew as well as Athan did what they were looking for here, and now he knew that Athan was caught up in the same mess, whatever it was, that he was, beyond any doubts. What it meant, he wasn't sure. He'd held his tongue, and watched, and attempted to keep his temper in check.

If he'd been a bit less grudging of the green haired man's presence and had some idea of his plight regarding lack of ability to damn the desert, he probably would have had some laughter and sympathy for him.

"Let's just get set and do this right. No reason to turn back today we didn't have yesterday, or the day before, or..."

...they got the idea, he was sure.

A Burning Dream : Walter|Vahn|???

Walter seemed immediately relieved. It wasnt hard to see that properness and formality were vital arteries in the life of these people. If his guest was displeased it was a failure upon him. He even found himself smiling softly as Vahn touched the marble horse, which softly nuzzled its cold hard head into his palm. They were very lifelike, for being entirely nonliving.

It was also a definite certainty that whatever mixed feelings Vahn had toward the other man, the man returned absolutely no hostility to him.

"Thank you...I think."

Stepping up onto the carriage the golden eyed Murmillion would immediately be able to over the opposite end, there he would find the dark blue haired man pulling a wooden bucket of water with a lid on it from a compartment under the carriage seating. When he shut the door, he would look up wearing nothing but a warm smile on his face and walk off toward back toward the burning house.

When Vahn sat, he would find the seats were plush and exceedingly comfortable as well as made of some sort of smooth expensive seeming indigo material. Alot of work was put into make this vehicle comfortable, which likely meant they were in for a fairly good sized ride.

Not at all. Thank me no thanks, nor proud me no prouds.

Walter said as he entered the carriage behind Vahn. He made his way to the seat closest to the driver then craned over the seat backing and dropped the sheet of paper the other man had given him into the seat. Before it struck the ground black swirled around the sheet and overtook it, the coalesced and soon another drive exactly like the one before was formed. Only this one was programmed with a new destination.

It is my great pleasure, and honor.

It gathered up the reigns, cracked them, and with a lurch the carriage moved. It rode as if the air was solid and had been made into a ramp before it, the horses galloped upwards, then turned and redirected the carriage toward the ocean.

See you later!

A friendly voice called up from the ground, if he meant that to one or both was uncertain. If Vahn looked however, he might see something strange. The blue haired man took the lid off the bucket and poured a bucket worth of water on himself. He shook off some excess, shivered, and then just before the horses took another lurch upwards and robbed him of his view he might see that same man running at his flaming cabin as the fire breathed its last few hungry dangerous breaths.

Walter was sitting across from Vahn and staring out to the side and off the carriage. He was silent as the barren land passed beneath them, until the horses were a few hundred feet off the ground. A concerned looked flashed across his aged face as he turned the Murmillion and asked in a tone befitting a worried friend.

Do you know where you're going?

Three people were all that had remained. The crew carrying most of the supplies and the guide had left, leaving Athan to wonder for a split second how they were supposed to get back. That thought soon faded with the realization that if whoever waited inside that cave was not friendly, they weren't going to have to worry about death by exposure.

Silver stepped forward first, and when he threw back his hood, did a good job of catching Athan by surprise on two fronts. First, the guy had done a good job of keeping quiet despite the less-than-perfect conditions of the journey, and second, apparently Athan owed him something.

What that was, however, was a pretty big mystery on Athan's end.

"Not sure what I owe you, but whatever."

He shrugged his shoulders and turned towards Rage. Despite his best attempts to hide his identity, Athan didn't have a hard time figuring out it was Rage beneath the hood, considering the already revealed green hair and, more recently, addition of a scar across the bridge of his nose, the great Detective known as Athan Cole had put two and two together, but he wouldn't ruin his sense of anonymity just yet.

And then Kael, who, like the rest of the people, just seemed to be mute since entering the desert. Now, Athan wasn't much of a talker himself, but the lack of any sort of conversation was beginning to grate on his nerves. Just a bunch of hooded figures brooding to themselves up until they reached their destination.

"Alright then. Let's go."

Taking the lead, Athan entered the cave. And assuming a dragon didn't come flying out of the darkness at him, he'd be removing his robes as well.

"No, I don't. Then again, I don't think I really ever have."

Another thing Walter appreciated about Vahn, he knew. Sure at times his lack of words could be misconstrued for lack of though, but there was no doubt his mind was sharp. Walter smirked for a flash before it was washed away by his formal training, because Vahn didnt even have to guess. He knew automatically Walter wasnt talking about the flight they were on.

"Which just begs the question...why do you seem to have such a vested interest in me?"

As Vahn leaned back, Walter leaned forward. His elbows rest on his knees, he smiled but his eyes turned toward the scenic view of the beach front, and the large blue rug of ocean that covered it. His hands moved to undo the buttons of his long jacket revealing his stereotypical vest and white dress shirt.

"I've...had the unfortunate experience of finding out a few things about myself... that I'm not sure I can live with. It's gotten to the point where I wonder if I have any free will left at all."

As he spoke, the Butler's eyes fell on him, heavy with the sentiment he expressed. There was no judgment on Walter's face, but age and understanding. He had the eyes of someone that not only knew the feelings spoken, but had felt them.

"Where I believe every 'choice' I make, has already been chosen for me; like there's really no other option to begin with."

There was a moment of silence here. Walter's eyes fell to the black wooden carriage floor and his head slowly nodded, and then he leaned back as well letting out something akin to an extremely formal and proper sigh. And then he spoke.

But you know that you are something greater than a vagabond in a cabin.

His tone was not in even the slightest way insulting. It did not carry masked malicious intent, it was sympathetic, calling to the part of Vahn that held hope. Because if Vahn had no hope, he wouldnt be in this carriage.

Destiny and fate aside, the raw some of your parts is equal to something more. Elements in your life may have been torn apart, like skin and blood during a battle, but you existed before those elements, before you knew anything about anything. And like every injury you've ever taken, in every battle you've ever fought, you will exist after.

His eyes rose almost glinting in the moonlight, they fell on Vahn's eyes, and with no small amount of directness Walter said.

But you, as I, know that you can do more than simply exist. But any desire to, is lost without direction...

His hand rose, adjusting his monocle automatically as the wind slid it a hair off skew. The limits of what Walter could and could not do did not matter to the Butler as much as what he would, and would not do. And that was dictated by what his years of service taught him he should, and should not do. It was rude to venture into Vahn's mind without permission. He would never. Instead he continued.

I do not know what you've learned about yourself. But maybe, it can be assuaged by what you have yet to learn. Then perhaps you will know where you're going...as they say, a man cannot move even one step forward, unless he knows where he came from.

He would pause, long enough for Vahn to respond if he so wished, or at the very least long enough to make sure it was all heard and taken in. And then, almost casually he would add.

If I may, what happened to your eye?