The Hunt for Aslan's Mightiest Begins...

[Fidelis Meridius]

Timestamp: 3rd Brightening, First Cycle of Pontius - Mid- Darkening.

Songstamp: Disturbed ~ Enough

IC: The suns had faded from the sky, and night choked the holy city. Diana's residents had long retreated to the safety of their own abode's as two remained amongst the alleys and avenues: A man and a woman. Arm in arm they shuffled their way across town. If anything it appeared to be a long evening out for young love... but that was not the case.

In truth, a hunter was on the warpath in search of his prey. Under a crimson cloak, the man was armored in an an Elven Steel Breasplate and bracers, and about his waist were two deadly Ardentium Gladii. This man was Fidelis Meridius, the Wolf of Jorel.

At his side, under a black robe, was his Thorn, Havina. The elf hide the majority of her features beneath a set of navy and white robes. Underneath her garments, she too concealed her own weapons: a golden trimmed pair of sai. Tresses of her golden hair fell over the corner of her face as she leaned on his arm; wrapping her own around it.

Slowly the pair carried themselves through the city towards their destination, carrying on light conversation as they went. Finally, their disguise had carried them far enough, for they had arrived upon the steps of the Temple of Aslan.

Looking up with a smile, Havina stepped forward from the Jorelite without a word. Stepping forth the Master Necromancer closed her eyes and entered Clara. Quickly pulling vis from the infernal plane, the Oracle conjured forth a giant twisting shadow that burned a hole through the darkness. The spell she cast had opened a portal to the temple hidden within the Khardan mountains.

Dropping the cloak to the stone street below, Fidelis revealed his full figure and armaments as his emerald eyes stared into the vortex. Blonde locks of hair bounced off his face from the turbulence of ethereal gate, as he matched Havina's smile.

"Come! Your hunger for destruction shall be quelled..." Fidelis commanded as ten Iskirra stepped forward. Quickly the spell then collapsed on itself as if nothing had ever happened.

Nothing more was said as the pair of Jorelite began to traverse the stairs to the temple doors. The unliving wolves surrounded them with each step they took forward.

Unknown to the loyal servants of the Honor Bound, they were about to receive very unhappy guests who happen to be searching for the knight to become Aslan's champion. Pulling a sword from its sheath, the swordsman prepared to begin his hunt for the beast from his dream.

[Thoth]

The priests and visitors of the temple were going about their daily business. Two priest Guards stood at the gate of the temple though and looked at the approaching man. The wolves were clearly not of the living kind, and so one guard stepforward to stop him as the other signled for priests to close the doors before steping forward as well.

"Please sheath your sword sir and you must leave the wolves outside before stepping into the temple."

[Fidelis Meridius]

It was odd to find such life in the temple after dark. Perhaps Diana was different in respect to how its citizens chose to worship. But it mattered not, if anything, his fear-mongering would be even more successful.

Step by step, the Wolf and Thorn made their way up the steps. Reaching the gate, they found themselves confronted by guards, as the large wooden doors closed behind them. Fidelis couldn't help but laugh at the guards, but only mentally. Shaking his head, he could not believe the protocol they were following. These men were fools, for he had approached them in armed to the teeth with a necromancer and unliving Etos. What else did he need for the guards to see to understand that the Jorelite come with the most hostile of intents.

Exhaling a sigh of annoyance, Fidelis nodded to the guard as he sheathed his weapon... But in truth, it was nothing more than trickery. Just as the hilt of the blade pressed against the lip of the scabbard, the other gloved hand wrapped itself around the opposite weapon. Senses ignited with the extraordinary perception the warrior had developed in his evolution as a swordsman. Pulling the other ardentium blade free, the Guard's life would pass before his eyes, and within a blink would be gone.

Fidelis could feel everything about the Aslanite before him. His blade painted an extra mental image as it arced diagonally across his foe's chest. Even if the professional soldier had his wits about him, the speed and skill of Fidelis would have been too overwhelming. Just as he laid to rest the first of the guards, the Dark Knight gave the Etos the order to close in on the remaining guard. Their fangs dripping as the feral growl rose up from the unliving creatures. Their eyes burned with inhumanity as they sought for nothing more than the order to consume the man in the most carnal of ways. But the Wolf of Jorel delayed the order.

"It seems to me we have a dilemma here... Because I am assuming you want to live." The warrior narrowed his gaze at the guard. " And I... Need inside these doors here." Fidelis pointed the bloodied blade at the gate as he approached the man. "Get me inside, or my friends here will feast upon your flesh!" The warrior issued his ultimatum. Although he was not the only means of access, especially with the destructive power of a master necromancer at his side. Nothing was going to keep him from finding that which he sought. Nothing!

[Thoth]

The first guards life didn't have time to finshy flashing before collasping in a pile of his own blood as it splashed around them. He grabed his chest and collapsed blood bubling out of his mouth.

The other looked between the wolves, the dark warrior and his fallen guard. He turned and then called for the doors to be opened.

He turned back holding sword between himself and the wolves. The door didn't immediately open but after a moment another guard opened to poke his head out.

[Fidelis Meridius]

Havina stood but a few paces behind the Dark Knight as the seen unfolded on the temple steps. Watching silently, she too, had her own plans for infiltrating the temple, and had already begun developing her contingency as the Wolf of Jorel bargained with the guards life.

Closing her eyes, she found Clara within a fraction of a moment. As her mind left the material plane and connected with the astral plane. Drawing her fill of the essence of Death, she closed the connection as her conscious thought returned to the world around her.

...Meanwhile, Fidelis made his threats to the guard as he ordered for the door to open. But of course the wooden gate would not just swing right open for them. Instead, a single guard poked his head out to investigate.

Neither Jorelite wasted any time to take advantage of the situation as it arose. Havina was already in the process of shaping her spell, and worked quickly to act. Chosing to use, Vampiric Embrace, she evoked the spell into the mind of the guard surrounded by Iskira. Using divination, the Necromancer sent a surge of horrible pain through the guards body; it was if the insides of his body were pushing themselves to the surface as the spell left him writhing in pain. "I own you now..." She spoke as she stepped forward. "Cooperate with us, and you will suffer no more..."

As the Oracle of Jorel worked her magic, her wolf had already moved to get inside the temple. With his mental control over the unliving wolves, Fidelis took one and lead it into crack between the two doors. "Turn to stone... keep him from closing it on us..." He issue mental commands to the wolf. Suddenly the large wolf seemed to be nothing more than a stone statue which was now used as a giant door-stop.

Looking to Havina, then to the possessed guard, the Jorelite pointed stepped close enough to him that the blade was nearly touching his chest. Looking down on the suffering and horrifying guard, the warrior whispered his commands with a toothy grin. "If you wish for the pain to end... Then take us inside and kill you friend here."

[Serion D'Rinishad]

A soft clap of gloved hands can be heard from the left of Fidelis and his followers. It was a very calm and confident sound, one of someone that was dumb enough or powerful enough to not feel fear at the sight that had just been witnessed. Should Fidelis turn his eyes, he would be met by a silvery gaze coming from behind an equally silver mask. Whether or not Fidelis knew anything of Serion's past affiliations mattered not to the dark elf, but the 'JC' etched on the left half of his mask would have been a dead giveaway to the Jaded Claw.

Knowing that Fidelis was never a slouch when it came to striking first, he had already prepared a few protections spells in case a volley of magic, blades or fangs came his way--Serion was cocky, but not stupid. Dressed completely in white, though bearing no markings of whence he hailed from, Serion lets his right hand rest easilly upon the three swords at his side. "I see you have not lost your skill Fidelis," the Dark Paladin speaks softly to his former student. "I wish I could claim it was my own skill that had shaped it, but I believe it would only be fitting to allow you all the credit you deserve."

Sliding his mask off slightly in a slow but graceful motion Serion winks at Fidelis, giving him a view of his viasge without letting anyone else further away to make it out. "While I must say I was contemplating the best way to enter the Church, you have beaten me to it. Perhaps I could tag along, as there is something here I wish to claim." Pausing to chuckle a bit, and turning an eye to the poor guard that would soon find himself visiting Jalat's domain, Serion smiles unseen from beneath his mask. "That is, unless you have come to claim the same thing."

Spreading his hands out, showing he meant nothing but good will towards the swordsman, he tilts his head in mutual respect. "Of course, we might want to move on before this poor man feints...or more guards notice and arrive." Granted, Serion and Fidelis combined could probably handle anything the city would ever throw at them. His last time here had run him into an archon unprepared. It has been a long time since Serion has ever done anything comletely unprepared since.

[Thoth]

The guard collapsed in pain, he looked up at the guards trying to talk, but he was unable to do anything except whimper in pain. "Please what ever you want." He said.

His eyes were beging to bleed as was his nose.

The gates were open to the Temple of Aslan.

[Fidelis Meridius]

"I learned from the best..." Fidelis spoke dryly over his shoulder. He showed no other real signs of acknowledgment of Serion as he spoke, even though he had seemingly come out of nowhere. First, they had business to finish.

With the guard under Havina's control, he attacked his own comrade; ending his life in fear of more of the torment that her spell had inflicted upon him. As he made the death stroke, the Thorn smiled in appeasement. "Now..." She said, as she raised a slender hand. The guard would subsiquently writhe in pain once more as she tortured his soul. "If you want the pain to end, then you will take your own life." She then left him to the wrath of the spell as it caused him spasm and shake in horrifying pain. In truth, the spells duration would come to an end before too long, but it was not likely he would survive it. Either he would suffer on the steps, begging for an end, or he would kill himself as the party continued towards their destination.

Now, Serion had the pair's full attention. "I see you hold no grievances over the events in Prime..." The Dark Knight turned on his heels to face the masked paladin. With a shrugg at Serion's remarks of his skill, the warrior gave a lacadasical response. "What can I say though... I'm the product of a good master."

"My friend, this is my Thorn, Havina..." The Jorelite gave the pair a quick introduction. "This is... an old friend"" He avoided using his name for the sake of his reputation... even if he was a Vysstichi.

"As for this..." The warrior pointed with a thumb over his shoulder. "Its someone... Not something. So feel free to join us..." Fidelis would have preferred to catch up on times with his old mentor, but he was on the job and such things would have to wait for another time.

"Come..." The Wolf motioned as he proceeded up the stairs and into the temple where the search for any information on the whereabouts of Aslan's Champion would continue.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

"Let us just say that I have come to terms with the events in Prime, and that I am perhaps better for it." In truth, Serion still felt a twinge of loss at the thought of Graham. The boy had indeed saved his life, and in sacrificing it to Fidelis' swords had saved Serion's memories. It was said that the gods and planetars sometimes worked in strange ways, and maybe it was Rak's reward to Serion for the quest for power that he had begun so many eras ago.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, this not necessarily the time to wallow in regrets, Serion bows to Havina. "You may simply call me Myst if the need arises to get my attention." The title, Thorn, was not something so unfamiliar to Serion. He had once been one of three Jorelites that fought for the title of Chosen--the messenger of Jorel. "Well Mr. Wolf," Serion says, his silver eyes returning to Fidelis'. "It has been some time since we have fought together side by side. While I cannot say this will be a glorious battle, perhaps it will be of some amusement."

Making his way to join the duo at the stairs, Serion motions for the entrance. "By all means, after you." While Serion was confident in his abilities, his time controlled by the Illuxian had cost him much as far as his physical skills. It had taken him so many eras to attain the graceful edge of a grandmaster with his blades. His knowledge was strong, but his limbs did not seem to react as swiftly as his mind remembers they once did. Fidelis on the other hand was fresh. While Serion had nearly destroyed the Dianite temple in Diana single handedly with less skill, surely this one would be no harder with a sworsman like the human that had once been Serion's student.

Following Fidelis and Havina, Serion would simply let his right hand rest in a seemingly casual nature at his three swords strapped to his side. Absently kicking the guard that laid sprawled out at the top of the step, Serion chuckle slightly. "You know, I'm contemplating the ressurection of the Jaded Claw. Think you'd be in for some muscle work from time to time?" The conversation was more so to keep a light air about the group. Fidelis seemed a bit to serious at the moment, and fights were meant to be enjoyed.

[Thoth]

The guard lay on the ground as he was kicked by the dark paladin. The blood coming from his mouth was such that they would believe that he should die of the pain anyway.

The enterance section beyond was empty except for a guard standing in the entry way leading into the seciton beyond. He held a mace in his hands and was dressed in armor, his faced hidden by a helment.

He didn't speak and didn't charge, they could feel his goddess to their bad, but he wasn't who they were looking for.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Serion can only smile as he sees the lone guardian at the next entryway. His silver eyes glisten with a bit of mischievious lust. Quickening his pace a bit to get ahead of the two, Serion's hidden smile would have put made even a well trained soldier uneasy. Perhaps it was a good thing for this white knight that the dark elf's smile was shrouded by the smooth silver mask of the Jaded Claw.

"Before you answer my last question my good friend. I do believe it is my turn to have some fun."

Fidelis had dispatched the guards at the gate after all, and it had sort of erased the initial planning that the Dark Paladin had been formulating as he hid within the shadows of the building. Surely it was only fair that he got to take out the next simpleton that claimed to be one of Aslan's finest.

His attention on the unmoving knight, Serion stands straight and outstretches a single hand. In a blink of an eye, with but a single thought, the wooden sword that had been slid into his belt between his other two ardentium blades appeared in his hand, wooden blade pointed skyward. The act brought the dark elf into immediate clara, and as far as Serion was concerned this would not take long. Unlike Serion, paladin's were trained to combat evil in every form. Very few times however, did evil take the form of another paladin--a paladin that had made it a hobby to decimate those that he might have called brother were he not so bent on garnering power.

"I think it only fair that I inform you that you are in our way. If you do not step aside, I shall be forced to defeat you with a sword made of wood. I'd hate for Aslan to see his men look like fools."

Serion already knew the man would not have budged except to perhaps run headlong to his death. The last few Aslanites he had ever met were notorious for losing their heads at questioning their honor, and of course this only led to them losing their heads again--permanently. Instead, as he spoke, he used his clarity to force his own vis into any spell weaves enshrouding the guardian, aiming to dispel their effects, and finally channeling the thaumaturgic essence into his words as he froze the large man in place before making his move.

Propelling himself forward, the dark elf will pivot swiftly, bringing his wooden sword across the neck of the large man, pulling more arcanic energy to hopefully finish him off with one gigantic blow from his sword, Light's Darkness. In truth, it was the first time Serion had used just Light's Darkness, as he had spoken, so too must he do. His threat was to beat the man with a stick, and what was he if he was not honorable to his word. He wasn't a heathen after all. Besides, it felt good to have the Thaumaturgic Plane at his instant beck and call. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have this sort of power as an archmage.

[Fidelis Meridius]

The small pack of Iskira began to file into the temple behind the trio as the armored figure set himself in the path of some of the most notorious people of the empire. Fidelis stepped aside with no objection as Serion displayed his interest in killing their next foe.

"Perhaps..." The warrior kept the casual talk to a minimum at this point, for there would be a time and place for it later. "But for now... My muscle has more serious tasks to engage in."

Until then, the Jorelite observed as his old mentor engaged the mace wielding paladin. It was interesting to see the Vysstichi's new fighting style. Fidelis was no fool, and was very aware that the wooden blade had an arcane quality or enchantment to be of any real use. None the less, the swordsman was more than interested to see how the fight ensued.

Simultaneously, with his mental grasp on the Etos, he ordered them to fan out to search the temple like search party looking for a lost child. But they were not interested in rescuing anyone. Their soul intention was to find any priests in hiding, and ensure they don't manage to escape before the Wolf and Thorn could interrogate them.

ooc: Horrid post, but its a little early in the morn for me right now

[Thoth]

The guard just raised his eyebrow at the fighter. He held his mace lightly in his hand. He smiled slightly as the spell slipped off of his person. He didn't actually respond he did become more wary though and held his weapon in the ready.

The mace of the guard raised his mace to block the blow from the wooden sword. The vibration of the impact spread along his arm causing him to flinch just a little at the presure, but he was the one who had stood before them, and had some skill which is how he was able to resist the arcane of the dark paladin.

Bringing his own weapon to bear the soilder of Aslan brough his mace across to try and smash the arm of his attacker. While movieng to dodge the other attack.

As for the wolf of Jorel. His exploration took a while longer, as the building was designed in a military fashion and he discovered that only two doors lead out of the room, one that the guard was standing in, and one that was hidden in the back, with a locked door.

[Fidelis Meridius]

As the unliving wolves spread out amongst the main corridor of the temple, the Wolf of Jorel watched Serion attack the armored paladin... and fail in delivering him a swift death. The warrior gave a slight chuckle in amusement. "Am I going to have to show him how it is done?" Fidelis questioned as he continued to watch, but his ultimate goal was still at hand as he completed the reconnaissance of the area with the Iskira.

So there were two doors? One locked, one guarded. As it would seem, that even though the Dark Paladin was incapable of easily besting his foe, the Jorelite new it was a matter of time before the former GrandMaster struck him down. Therefore, he would give him the courtesy of doing it alone. But of course, should any problems arise, then Fidelis and Havina would both be more than willing to see to it the guard suffered the most horrid of deaths.

Until then, the locked door was the Dark Knights concern. Although the fact that it was locked meant very little to Fidelis. He could quite easily have the very temple destroyed, much less let a door stand in his way. But this time, he had decided that more of a challenge was in order, since the guards obviously had not the ability to stand in the party's way.

"Keep an eye out..." The apprentice Necromancer signaled to Havina as he closed his eyes and began to Meditate. It became very evident of Fidelis' intentions at that point: He was going to use arcana to proceed.

Although, the warrior was still a rather inept mage on the grand scale of things, and even though he was proficient at achieving clara, it would still take several moments. Minutes would pass by as he sought to make the connection to the infernal plane, from which he would draw forth the necromantic essence needed for his desired spell.

One he had finally done so, the Jorelite used the information the Master Necromancer, Havina, had imparted on him during his training. But in truth, his spell was older than that. In fact, it was one that the Jorelite was taught by Avanthar Dra'Aran in the Spirit Well; It was Acid Orb.

Once he had the desired amount of essence, the apprentice closed his connection to the necromantic plane, and began shaping the necessary arcalysis required for the spell. Mixing the vis he drew forth with the ara around him, Fidelis conjured forth an orb of acid of the greatest size he could manufacture. Which in truth, was probably no larger than his shoulder width at best.

Once the orb had been formed, the necromancer would send it crashing into the door from a safe distance. Sheria was a strong reminder of what could go wrong if you toyed with acid. But if all went as planned, the spell should easily destroy the door. All the while, the Jorelite was protected by the Oracle and the Iskira.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

The vibration from the impact would have affect the knight more than the paladin, as the spell itself would cushion the vibration that might have gone down Serion's sword otherwise. Their was a flash of annoyance in the dark elf's eyes, visible through the slits in his silver mask, but Serion had once been a grandmaster, a creator of styles that this knight could only dream about attempting. While his skills were a bit rusty, the dark paladin's experience in battle was hard to match.

While many might not notice an attack is about to be blocked, Serion knew his attack would not make its desired mark. His reflexes wouldn't let him change his swing, but his mind still moved with expert quickness, realizing that his spells would probably be useless on the Aslanite tin can. Just as the sword contacts the guardian's forearm, Serion will unleash a new spell, drawing the essence from the astral plane with practiced ease and letting it flow like a river down his left arm. While most might try to dodge or parry a blow from an adversary, Serion was a tactician--and angry, unforgiving tactician.

With precise timing, the Aslanite's mace coming in fast, Serion leans into the direction of the man, his empowered arm grabbing at the wrist holding the mace while the other hand releases its grip on Light's Darkness, moving to the upper portion of the knight's swinging arm. With the grace of his vysstichi ancestry and the strength of his thaumaturgic empowerment, the dark elf let's the larger man's momentum continue as the fool attempts to swing and dodge at the same time. If succesfull, the Aslanite should find himself toppling forward ungracefully over Serion's shoulder.

Even a well trained warrior would have trouble avoiding such a maneuver by Serion, as the dark elf had used this many times against larger foes, but then a better trained foe might have known better than to create a scenario where his body was off balance, like the Aslanite had just done. Perhaps Aslan had protected him though, for if Serion had been able to see the cocky smile from behind the faceplate of his helmet, he would surely have suffered a more painful death than the one he would be recieving now.

Very few people survived after playing with