The Shadow Returns...

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

The desolate wastes surrounding the black spire that was Acumin had remained unchanged, though there was a sense of death and dread that lingered here. A battle had been fought, and a battle won, yet it was a meaningless battle, one that was brought on by angered villagers whom never truly stood a chance. Had it not been for the organization and tactical skills of those within Dar Havark, or the taxing training that they had amounted, the results could very well be different. It had been an absolute slaughter here… and it was rather disappointing that the Lord of Dar Havark was not here to see it…

Dead… betrayed by the sly hand of one Prophet. Stripped of life by Lord Kaith and taken through Aeternia, several months seemed to have passed… the experience unforgettable… and now, finally, the dreaded Lord Avanthar returned now in a different form. Beneath the surface, into the depths of the underworld sat Lady Kyoko, the Draconess of Dar Havark, whose cruelty and power was on par with her beloved. Presiding over the faithful within Dar Havark, she watched now at the gathered commanders, her striking elvish features emotionless. None could deny her beauty…

At her side was little Kyoko… though little no longer. Borne from a darker heritage, she appeared at the age of adolescence, attiring herself in an alluring long dress which sought to accent her future beauty. Appearing as beautiful as her mother, there was a hard edge about her, her eyes, were very much akin to her father. To each side stood the pair of Half-Cyraxians, guardians of Avanthar’s kin for life.

Assembled before them were the Dark Ones… Master Sylphis… Commander Erlok… and other important members of Avanthar’s council. For the present they were discussing the whereabouts of their Lord, for their last parting was indeed several months ago… he was to attend Rincewin’s little ball.

Stepping forward was the leader of the Dark Ones, his speech carrying little of the saurian accent as he spoke clear and concise. Carrying an unnatural intelligence, the Dark Ones were the final remnants of the powerful force within the Carmelya Ruins, taken here by Lord Darksoul after their defeat.

‘Lady Kyoko… is it safe to presume that something has occurred within Alleria Prime which have led to our Lord’s continued absence? The Ancient Allerian’s have landed, yes, but surely he would have returned way before the landing… maybe the one known as Rincewin would know of his fate?’

Narrowing her eyes, Kyoko raised one hand to support her head as she sat pondering, knowing very well what it meant for Avanthar to be absent for so long a time. Something had occurred, for Dra’Aran was an individual on par, if not greater than her own powers. The thought of something dreadful befalling her beloved was something she did not wish to think about, yet there was doubt. More than any of the others she knew whom Rincewin was… she had seen the dominant side of the man… how he looked at her husband as a threat rather than an ally… she glanced at the metal stand where his husband’s armor was hung. Everything was there, even to a small ring that tingled with an odd magic… everything save Ravager…

‘Perhaps… but it seems that Rincewin himself had disappeared… we have no true leads… and is it not true that even with our Lord gone, we have still managed to defend our home? It is worthy of thought… but… I believe Lord Dra’Aran had planned his return beforehand… whom else could have transported his gear here, to the heart of Dar Havark?’

‘We must hold the belief that he will return… until his return we must continue the work that he strove to do… to rebuild a home that we may reside in… and to seek vengeance on all those whom have wronged us… We are not as…’

Kyoko stopped as those before her stepped back. Something was making its way here, she could sense it as it ran to the very core of her heart and soul. It was something familiar yet different, the entire chamber darkening, the sense of dread and impending death reaching into every one in attendance. Stepping forward as she mustered her powers in confusion, her mind tapping into the nether realms, she could sense it… it was… could it be?

An inky darkness grew before her, a stain which slowly spread upon the cold stone floor of Dar Havark’s throne room. Weapons were drawn by many as all awaited to see what was invading into their black sanctuary. Azumi watched wide eyed, smiling, her pretty little face held the impression of mad delight… if it was an invader she’d kill it. Seconds passed slowly as the form began to take shape, a figure rising from the depths of shadows, exuding an aura that pushed many back. An Archmage…

Rising upwards from his crouching position, the shirtless Avanthar regarded those that gathered. A greatsword clenched within his hands that bore an undeniable resemblance to Ravager, and a silver haired man whom had the unmistakable call of a Dracolord. Smiling, the tanned man laughed as he stepped forward, Kyoko and the others confused on his identity. One of the more eager men suddenly charged forward. Avanthar however made no notion of avoiding it, easily commanding the tangible shadows to clench upon his feet, throwing him into the crowd behind him.

Surprise registering, Kyoko stammered, her eyes growing moist… could it be? Could the one man she had longed for so long finally returned to her side? Was this human his mighty Dracolord husband? Then… how? Smiling, Avanthar stepped forward, moving up the steps and bypassing the two Half-Cyraxians whom stood dumbfounded. Standing right before his beloved, there was an odd smirk upon his face as he suddenly leant forward, holding her by the waist and forcefully pulling her forward to his side, moving his mouth forward to deliver one passionate kiss…

Kyoko’s eyes were closed as Avanthar leant back once more, realization dawning at just whom it was. The way he kissed… the way he held her… the spark in his eyes… the blade in his hand…

‘Avanthar? Is it… really… you?’ stammered Kyoko, placing a comforting hand to his face as she embraced him before the assembled ranks, her longing for Avanthar was evident to see. For a long moment they held each other, content to remain within each other’s arms before he let go, turning to the assembled ranks of Dar Havark. A madness gleamed in his eyes, his voice different, yet the authority and power still remained.

‘I, Lord Avanthar Dra’Aran, have returned! Let it be known that Rincewin, Prophet of Jorel, plotted my death and stripped me of life… know that by Jalat’s gracious hand that I have returned… know that I work now for Death rather than Entropy… know that we, The Brotherhood, have severed all ties with the Club of Peers… that we are the harbringers of a new age…’

‘We serve Death now… for Jorel has forsaken us… if any choose to disagree with my proclamations then stand forward and endure my wrath… and I shall reveal to you all the might of an Arch Mage!!!’

Echoing throughout the great hall, he stood forward and raised his great sword, Nemesis, its black blade exploding in blue flames as it roared above them all, determination clearly written upon his face. Awaiting those that sought to continue their faith in Jorel, he found none, The Brotherhood’s loyalty to Avanthar proving to be too strong for even Jorel to break. With a smirk of delight he watched as the assembled ranks raised their blades and chanted out his name! Like a roaring tide the very earth trembled as Dra’Aran was united with his faithful followers…

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Later that night, the knight slept alongside his wife for what was a passionate and intimate evening. With her head resting lightly upon his chest, Dra’Aran looked up and into the ceiling, his mind swirling with many thoughts. Indeed he would see the world differently from all of his experiences. Slowly moving Kyoko’s head off his chest, he strode to the other side of his private room, moving in stealthy silence as he stood before his armor and sword. Saying nothing as he slowly garbed himself once more, it felt odd to feel his armor slide against a different body, Avanthar forced to adjust the sizes so it fit snugly onto his new frame.

From his black mithril chain, to his breastplate, and even his dragon circlet, everything seemed different yet strangely same. There was much to do with his time here, and though he felt a longing to remain longer within the halls of Dar Havark, Dra’Aran knew that that his mission desired haste. Now that those of the Brotherhood had been warned of Rincewin’s treachery, Avanthar was gifted with a sense of relief that what he had built for so long would never fall into his hands. And with the news that The Brotherhood had defended Dar Havark in the absence of Avanthar was pleasing… that his long and hard days training his followers had not been in vain.

It took some time before the Dracolord was once more garbed as his previous self, and for once he truly felt complete, though he still lacked one important accessory that he had stolen. His nekodes. But like all things Avanthar would reclaim them once more, there was simply no doubt about it. Remembering very well his activities before his journey to Alleria Prime, he was sure that the final sites of Lord Abcrul’s had been dug. And with Kyoko revealing the latest events which transpired within the Empire, the city of Zerdagia had yet been attacked. Perfect.

Tightening his black gloves, he was gladdened to find his body able to cope with the added weight, though he knew that it would need further conditioning to even compare with his previous self. It would make things challenging no doubt. Regarding the dark chambers, the darkness reassuring, Avanthar moved over to his beloved, watching her sleeping form. Beautiful and perfect in everyway, he leant down and gifted her with a light kiss before removing himself from his chambers.

Walking the stone halls, torches along the walls being the only source of light, Dra’Aran made little sound as he walked from one section to another, finding it interesting the changes that had occurred during his death. The sounds of the roaring underground river was a distant thing, Avanthar smiling at the intricate designs depicting some of his travels. Other sections had been dug, and even now the sounds of mining entered his senses…

Before he knew it, Dra’Aran was once more standing in his throne room, and when he compared it to Jorel’s and Jalat’s it was an insignificant, crude thing. Fixing his sleek mask, a smooth thing that curved and ended downwards slightly like a hawk’s beak, with one smooth and efficient motion he unlimbered Nemesis, the mithril sword slightly heavier, its blade longer and thicker, and no doubt more deadly. Slipping into clarity without thought, he activated the shadows from within and in an unholy display his blade burst in flames… blue flames tinged with darkness.

Unleashing one strike after another, channeling his emotions as he remembered each and every lesson he had learnt, one powerful sideward cleave was made before he spun around and entered into his fighting crouch, Nemesis held behind him in both hands as he visualised a target. Powering himself as he remain focused, using his hatred and anger as a secondary boost, in a sudden dash he sped before leaping upwards, both hands held back to deliver one mighty Serpent Strike. Swift and efficient, he created a blur of flames as he entered into his rapid Serpent Spin, moving with delicate and skilled footwork as he finished with a piercing jab, one leg straightened from behind, the front forward and bent.

Turning to one side, he stood on one leg, unleashing a series of side kicks, moving slowly at first before he grew in momentum, striking left, right and centre in a dazzling display that would no doubt confuse his opponents. Without a word he spun, sword in hand, and delivered a turning kick before he hopped forward once more with a sideward swipe. From his downward position, using both legs he propelled himself forward, his blade slashing upwards as he positioned his arms to give maximum support… his attack, Rising Tide.

Making steps left and right, one slash to the left, followed by another to the right, Dra’Aran swept through his invisible foes, practicing a series of slashes known as the Demon’s Cross, a series of diagonal slashes that was designed to force the opponent back. In an instant it altered to that of the Web of Death, his blade moving in between vertical and horizontal figure of ‘8’s. As perspiration rose, he found himself unable to stop, his human arms feeling somewhat strained as he maintained his rigorous practice, executing these attacks one after the another, an immense and chilling heat issuing forth his blade as the entire chamber bore witness to random flashes. It was an eerie thing to witness…

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Unrelenting, a thing that ignored fatigue or sorrow, one that was entirely consumed with cold hate for the world around him, a being that sought delight in the pain of others. Again and again he struck out, seeking to catch up to lost time, still furious over his betrayal. Lord Avanthar had been set back, there was no doubt about it, yet in a way he had taken a great leap. His Archmage testing had been incredibly difficult, but to be promoted by a god itself meant many difficulties had been bypassed. To return to Vortex before the other Masters, Dra’Aran would finally reveal his wrath and spread his influence throughout the unholy city, twisting it into a capital devoted to death.

Stabbing his mithril blade downwards, Dra’Aran ran without his sword and leapt upwards, performing a sidekick before he entered into a fighting frenzy. Performing a series of jabs, punches and blocks, he spun and swirled, utilizing each and every one of his abilities. The sounds of the very air parting before his fists picked up in tempo. Ending as he stood panting, he raised one hand tightened into that of a claw, sending out his great call to the dead as he drew the spirits towards him. Almost instantly the howling moans of the damned rose from below, spinning rapidly about the knight as they formed into an orb above him before he dismissed them…

With another hand he pulled his own shadow upwards as if it was a tangible thing, molding it to his whim. The chambers of Dar Havark darkened at his insane power, the torches dimming into nothing more than little tongues. A cold chill sent a pleasing shiver down Avanthar’s spine as he shaped a multitude of shadow darts, sending them hurtling to one section of the wall that was still being worked out.

Like a battalion of bolts they struck, leaving dark marks as the earth shattered under the attack. Stone chips flew as the wall cracked, unrelenting missiles striking continuously one after another before it stopped. Closing his eyes, Dra’Aran took a deep breath, seeking to tap into his inner self once more. He awaited the calm focus that sought to hold back his sorrows and stem his bestial anger. Though he was a Half-Cyraxian no longer, the familiar beast that had troubled his previous incarnation remained, a part of himself which could never be separated.

Turning towards the entrance was a figure whom had been watching Avanthar’s practice for some time. Retrieving his blade with a simple yank, the figure stepped forward to return Avanthar’s place. Brutish, the being carried himself in a proud way as powerful muscles worked. Reptilian eyes regarded him silently… Master Sylphis seeing the drastic change within the man… catching some hints of what Dra’Aran was forced to endure while held back in Aeternia. Sylphis was an artifact of a previous age, one whom had fought alongside Avanthar’s brother, Darkshade. If only Sylphis knew the knight had been forced to fight his reanimated brother beneath the catacombs of Primus Gaudeo.

‘Brother Sylphis… it is good that you are here to witness my parting… for I shall once more return to the surface and continue my unfinished business… alone. Protect the only home I have… for there is nowhere else we may go… not until I purge the lands… to the battlefield I must return…’

Sylphis said nothing, nodding simply to Avanthar in understanding. Sylphis had his own agenda in a way, and one would wonder if he had been sent to guard the knight, one of the final wishes of his long dead brother. Possibly. Yet above all, Sylphis would know of the reasons why Dra’Aran had walked such a path, why he did what he did, why he was who he was. Smirking beneath his mask and without knowing why, Dra’Aran moved forward and embraced his brother. In an instant he weaved his familiar shadow gate and was away, off to another place…

To know that Dra’Aran was safe for now, Sylphis was content to remain and guard what Avanthar treasured the most… and saying nothing he turned and began its way back to the forges…

Avanthar however… was about to go to war…