Theta Server was emptier, but otherwise, it was a typical day. Too typical. As was his custom, the Fist Fighter was ready to be up and about, not doze under a tree, despite its more enjoyable charms. He was a ready for an adventure, but little did he realize that it was an adventure he was going to get. A huge one.

Dun Loireag was a pretty enchanting place. One got the feeling that he was in heaven, if only because of the clouds. How could you not? Like something from a fantasy book, it appeared as if endless islands floating in a sea of clouds stretched out as far as the eye could see. Each of these islands were interconnected by thin, precariously perched land bridges, and some of these little sanctuaries of land possessed tall, irregularly shaped spires of rock. As it were, there floated spheres placed entirely at random across the dome of the sky, as if a deranged toddler had tossed his collection of multi-colored marbles all over the wild blue yonder.

It was as breath-taking as it was bizarre, and sometimes the clouds below were different colors. Today, however, God, the Admins, or whatever random AI controlled the weather intended it to be the most typical day possible, and the puffy cotton candy-like balls of water vapor were blue. Blue and white. Silk recalled when once the sky had been violet, orange, and so wondrous that he knew that he would never stop playing this game. It just wasn't possible to see anything nearly as cool in the real world.

Just like the land bridges, he, too, was perched precariously, but instead of being supported by some unseen item below the clouds, Silk was squatting atop a great spire of rock. It in turn was perched upon a rock, which in turn was perched upon something else, but Silk had never tried to find out. After all, that would require for one to jump off his respective island into whatever lay below, and he did not really feel any great desire to do so. There was probably nothing beneath those clouds, but the World was so expansive that there was no telling, and he would not be that surprised if there was a fabulous, vast domain inhabited by tiny people known as Thinonigans. These Thinonigans would obviously have their own game known as "The World" and they in turn would go play their game in their Root Town of Dun Loireag, and they would wonder what was going on under the clouds, where they would find a new race of tiny people known as Laiour, and the cycle would continue.

These whimsical thoughts ceased when he spotted an old friend of his, Zhirin, wandering around the islands of the sky. Several very malicious thoughts entered his mind, which he immediately thrust out. Zhirin was too serious to take any joking of his lightly, so instead, he slid down from his spire and came to a dusty halt upon his little rock in the sky.

"Hey, Zhirin!" He waved his arms vigorously to make sure he got his friend's attention.

Sorry son but I won’t be home for the week. I am off on another business trip. I know that we were supposed to spend some time together at the expo but you know that sometimes things just don’t work out as expected. I’ll make this up to you when I come back.

Love,
Dad

Orlys put the note from his father back where it had been, on the table. As he was walking towards his room the phone began to ring. He thought about letting the machine pick it up but then decided not to. If it was important than it would only be a waste to let the machine get it. He strode over to the phone and picked it up. Surprisingly enough it was his mother.

“Oh, good, you didn’t let the machine pick up the message. Hey I won’t be able to get home anytime soon. I thought that everything for this meeting was done but as it turned out there are some last minute questions that have made my boss think over our plan. Right now we are on a ten minute break. I think that this meeting is going to carry on late into the night.”

He nodded to himself before speaking. “Don’t worry about it mom. You know the material better than anyone there so don’t sweat it. And don’t worry about me, I will be fine. It’s not like I am going to starve to death or anything.”

Through the phone he heard a slight laugh followed by, “Okay, it seems the meeting is going to start up again, I have to go. Take care.”

“You too.” He said as he placed the phone back on its stand.

Orlys turned around and walked back through the hallway towards his room. As he opened the door to his room he sighed. It wasn’t because his parents weren’t going to be home though. That was something that he had grown accustomed to. He was actually still thinking about Paliathede and what had happened a couple of days ago. As soon as he had logged out he had contacted Melissa Orwell who he had first met as Shandel in, “The World”. So far it had been an interesting friendship but that wasn’t something that at the moment he wanted to dwell on. As soon as he had explained everything that had happened to her he mentioned that he would need her help to find the Swordmanoid again.

She had agreed and told him that it might take some time to find out where he was hiding. Also, she had mentioned that she was going to contact more of her resources in order to get it accomplished. Orlys had merely listened and told her to go do what she had to in order to find him again. In the meantime he would pay attention in the game incase anyone in Mac Anu or on the BBS mentioned anything that could be related to Paliathede. So far he had logged in several times yet he had heard nothing. Today he was hoping that things would be different but something in the back of his mind told that it would the same as all the other times.

His computer was ready to log into the game and all that was needed now was for him to put in his password. Like he had done so many times earlier, he put on the virtual reality headset and typed in the password. Then as he was taken to the water capital he reached over for his controller. With some luck he would hear something that would help him find the Swordmanoid. If not then it would just be another day gone by where nothing happened and he just wasted his time.

Zhirin’s body materialized in an alley in the city of Mac Anu. He looked around to see where exactly he was. After turning a corner he saw that he was close to the center of the city. There were many people around and for that he was glad. Typically he felt better when there were less inhabitants in the city but he knew that with more of them around the odds of him hearing something were also greater. For the time being he decided to move over towards the Chaos Gate. Maybe when players came back from a field they would mention that they had seen a strange Swordmanoid wandering around. He could only hope.

Hours passed and not a single rumor was mentioned that Zhirin heard that had anything to do with Paliathede at all. The blade master decided that he would walk around for a bit. Maybe news of the swordmanoid was in a different part of town. He turned around and began walking away from the Chaos Gate. There were many crowds which meant that getting anywhere was something that was not going to be easily accomplished.

Another hour passed by and nothing. Zhirin had been walking from the Chaos Gate to the bridge to the pawn shop and finally to the trade center. He did this over and over in hopes that he would hear something along the way. Indeed he had heard many rumors and gossip but it was not related to what he wanted. Also he hadn’t been flash mailed by Shandel with any fields to investigate. So far it seemed as though he had wasted his day, yet again. There were matters that he still needed to attend to outside the game but he didn’t just want to leave empty handed. Before leaving he would visit a field in order to blow off some steam from the previous times that he had been in Mac Anu and heard nothing. He turned around and rushed back towards the Chaos Gate.

When he reached the Chaos Gate an interesting notion entered his mind. There was another place he could go to. Maybe there he would have a little more luck there. Zhirin smiled and with a smirk said, “Dun Loireag”. Immediately the three rings of golden light that typically sent his character data to a field transported him to the Theta Server.

Truly the city of Dun Loireag was different than the water capital that he had grown so accustomed to. The Theta Server root town as set high in the air. There were many spires that had clumps of rock at the top which acted as platforms. Each platform was separated by many feet of nothingness. If not for the small bridges that were connecting the platforms there would be no way to get around. One could easily fall off. What was at the bottom was something that he didn’t no, nor could he see what was down there. As he peered over the edge of the platform where the Chaos Gate stood he saw clouds. The bottom was not visible due to the cluster of clouds that were formed. He nodded as he realized that they must be really high up if they had surpassed clouds. The city wasn’t entirely above the clouds though. There were many groupings here and there of white puffs in the vast blue sky. It was simplistic yet it was also beautiful. Zhirin looked around and saw nearly now people. Apparently there was a smaller population of players that inhabited the city. Though he believed that these were more experienced players that might know something about the elusive swordmanoid. With another glance at his surroundings the blade master began waling around.

A little later he sat down at the edge of one of the platforms. It seemed as though no one at Dun Loireag knew anything about Paliathede either. Zhirin thought for a moment about what he was going to do now. Again he had no information but at least now he had seen a new place. Before leaving he decided to take another look around. He stood up with a sigh and began waling around again. Not much later as he walked through the city he heard his name. He turned around and saw that it was his friend, a fellow clan member, Silk. The fist fighter was flailing his arms wildly. Zhirin waved and made his way over to him.

The blade master stopped a few feet away from the fist fighter and gave a slight nod. “Hey Silk.”

The first thing that entered the Fist Fighter's mind upon seeing his old friend was this: Damnit! Zhirin is almost as buff as me! He looked in dismay at Zhirin's amazing array of equipment, as well the 14 that indicated his level. 14?! How did I let him catch up with me?

For a moment, Silk pondered challenging Zhirin to a duel, right here and now, just so he could wipe the smug grin that was undoubtedly inside the Blademaster's brain right now straight off his face. He was always too damn good at hiding his emotions.

But then he realized that he hadn't actually gotten to a Gott in forever, and it was probably time to begin a new quest. He ran a hand through his large amount of black hair as his eyes examined his old friend. He's grown old. Silk remembered long ago how Zhirin had just started out, and how he had led him and the Unity to recover the Lake and Sea. For their second quest, he and Zhirin had accompanied Hac along with Ronin to a dead, corrupted field where they fought with a freak Red Wyrm, barely escaping with their lives. Now what?

Silk could see turmoil behind those hardened eyes, so different from what he remembered, and he knew that this time around, it would be Zhirin calling the shots. The Fist Fighter had no pressign concerns, no vast arch-rivals out for his head, but obviously his old friend had been around the block a couple times, and now he needed some help. And Silk would be there to help.

A light breeze played with the hair of both fighters, and a sudden urge to toss Zhirin off the causeway that they stood upon grabbed his mind. He immediately thrust it out, and gave a big smile to his companion. These strange and sudden thoughts were getting pretty irritating, and he wondered at their cause. No matter, it was probably nothing, and he did not need something else to worry about during his battles.

"It's been awhile, Zhirin. Tell me... what have you been up to? As for me... well, I haven't been doing much of anything. Well, except for switching to Fist Fighter class, as you can see." He gestured to his lack of a blade, and he thought idly about making a gift of his old Blademaster Swords to his friend. As they spoke, they headed off the precariously perched Causeway, if only to keep Silk's random and malicious urges at bay.

Both Zhirin and Silk stood there just staring at each other for a few moments. The blade master thought about how much his friend had changed since the last time that he had seen him. And Silk was probably doing the same. The last time I saw him he was still carrying a sword. Yet since then he has adopted a new class. I wonder exactly what has happened to make him give up his sword. Hmmm maybe nothing happened at all and that was why he switched. Sometimes we all just need a change of pace. There may be a day when I switch to one of the advanced classes, but not now. At the moment I can’t worry about changing my character class. There is much that I still need to do as a blade master.

A quick glance at Silk told him that his friend was still examining him. Of course Zhirin could not really blame him. He had changed so much since he had last seen his friend. His level was much higher than it had been the last time they had met, but that wasn’t what had changed the most. Zhirin’s mindset had changed the most so far. He had been aware that to some, “The World” was no longer a game but he had now seen that people were not the only ones affected. Regular creatures in the game could also be affected by whatever was going on. If any one asked him to prove it he had no means of doing so, but he didn’t need to prove anything.

Zhirin had seen creatures that had become more than just mere pieces of data. He had actually seen many of them and they all had been living together in a sort of society. Paliathede, the swordmanoid that he was searching for was part of that society. Yet at the moment, he was an outcast. It was funny how things could change so drastically in such a short amount of time.

The blade master had fought Paliathede and lost. Even though Zhirin had lost horribly to the swordmanoid, he felt no resentment nor any desire for a rematch. After his loss he became a prisoner and went back with Paliathede to a stronghold. It had been a marvelous place that reminded him of a palace. The only thing that had not looked as marvelous was the cell where he had been kept. Cetlior, a Gladiator, released him upon Paliathede’s commands. At first he had expected that he was going to be executed or something of that nature but it turned out that he was to be taken out of the stronghold along with Cetlior. The Gladiator had left Zhirin in the hands of a Fire Witch and left to find Paliathede.

It had been quite a shock when both he and the Fire Witch saw Paliathede fighting with the Grand Mage. Then it had been an even greater shock to see that Alyana, their mistress, had betrayed both of them. If it had not been for the Fire Witch who sacrificed her life in order for Zhirin to save the swordmanoid, then they would have not escaped. Suddenly Zhirin snapped back from his recollection of recent events and saw that Silk was staring at him. Obviously the Fist Fighter had seen that Zhirin had been through something and was still troubled. If only his friend knew what dangers lied in wait for any player who was captured by Alyana. She found a way out of the game but Zhirin knew that she had to be stopped. Yet in order to do so he would have to find Paliathede again. The clock was ticking and he still had nothing.

A wind picked up forcing Zhirin to realize that they were both still standing on one of the many wooden bridges that connected the city. Suddenly he saw that Silk smiled and motioned for them to walk. The blade master nodded and followed Silk along the wooden planks of the bridge. As they walked Silk asked what he had been up to. He said that he himself had not done much besides switch to the Fist Fighter class. Then he asked what Zhirin what he had been up to.

For a moment the blade master thought about what to say. He had done much apparently and he was still in the process of doing much more. I could tell Silk what has happened but I wouldn’t want to burden him with something that isn’t his to bear. No, the only other person that should know about this is Shandel, and she already does. Zhirin glanced over to Silk and gave a shrug. “I suppose you could say I have been on a hunt. The prey I was searching for turned out to be different than what I expected. Now I am hunting a different prey…but I need the help of the first in order to find it. Along the way, I guess I leveled up a bit.”

He wasn’t sure whether his friend had understood what he had said. His tone of voice had been rather serious yet hinted towards a more fatigued nature. He let his eyes wander off into the immensity of their surroundings before catching himself and returning to his usual demeanor. In his mind he laughed. He found it humorous that he was so different when he was in playing in, “The World”. Every time he logged in it seemed as though he changed his mind set. At first he had thought that he was been someone completely different but now he understood that Zhirin’s personality was just another part of himself. In real life he was a more friendly and active person who could speak well with others. Yet it seemed that when he created Zhirin he adopted a more shy and reclusive character. Why he had created Zhirin the way he had was something he could not tell. Usually for a MMORPG it was best to be social.

The blade master had been playing the game for some time now and he had hardly met anyone. That was mostly by choice though. And even so it was something that he had done subconsciously. He had first isolated himself because it was part of how he wanted to play the character that he had created. Though it now seemed that in order to further Zhirin’s progress, he would have to evolve Zhirin’s personality. He wasn’t sure how to evolve a character in a game but he decided that maybe if he gave Zhirin a little of who he was in the real world, it might change him just enough.

Zhirin smiled, something that he did not do often while playing in, “The World”. He turned towards his friend Silk and with a lighter tone said, “So…what do want to do?”

Silk listened attentively to his friend as he spoke of vague things like prey and prey catching prey. Obviously, he did not want to involve him in a personal struggle, one which would probably get him killed. This was something that Silk would not allow, and he was not about to take a bunch of bullshit about "protecting him". He was one level his senior anyways, so the relationship should be vice versa.

"So... what do you want to do?"

Before he Yes, what did he want to do now? He gazed around at his surroundings, and for the first time he noticed how totally empty Dun Loireag was. This was strange, for although it was the Theta Server, there was still plenty of good players who played. This was unnatural. Something like this could be expected of Sigma Server, but Theta? No way.

"Something is wrong here, Zhirin," he said urgently to his friend. His momentary need to yell at his friend forgotten, as the cold hand of fear grabbed his spine and wretched it out of his back. Suddenly, the entirety of Dun Loireag was pitch black. This amazingly random change of environment froze the Fist Fighter in his tracks, but he had not grown as strong as he had through being stupid. Immediately, he dodged to the side, grabbing Zhirin with him.

The hiss of arrows overhead announced that Silk's instincts had held true. The Fist Fighter forced out a mock cry of anguish, which would hopefully throw them off the trail. "Roll!" he hissed to his companion, and they split up rather quickly. That was the last that Silk saw of Zhirin for a while. He pressed his back to the wall of a rocky spire, making sure his breathing was as quiet as possible, willing his heart to beat a bit more silently. As he sat there, motionless, his eyes grew more accustomed to the blackness, which turned out to lack the imperviousness that it claimed. Lights from the shops and the spheres still shone brightly, and before long, his eyes were able to pick out shadowy warriors creeping through the artificial night.

How or why these warriors were able to do this, Silk could not know, but what he did know was that they were killing the few innocents that were still walking the walkways of the sky capital, and he could not allow this to continue. Taking swift action, he headed towards a cowardly archer who was planning on filling another player's throat. With a swift motion, the archer was lying on his back, his neck broken. Silk took up the archer's old position, and surveyed the situation. He did not have the faintest clue where Zhirin was, but obviously he would have to find him. Right now, though, he needed stealth more than anything, and this point was accentuated by an arrow that came to a quivering halt not inches from his head. He spun around and made a run for it.

As he waited for Silk to answer Zhirin noticed that there were nearly no sounds. Silk looked around and Zhirin did likewise. It seemed as though the root town was nearly deserted. "Something is wrong here, Zhirin," he heard the Fist Fighter say. Suddenly as he tried to grasp what Silk was talking about, everything went black. At first he thought that an error had occurred with his computer but the fact that he could still hear the shuffle of his feet against the dirt floor changed his mind. He felt someone grab him and pull him to the side. Zhirin realized that it had been Silk who had dodged and pulled Zhirin along with him. The blade master was still a little baffled by Silk’s sudden action but when he heard the sound of arrows piercing through the air he understood what was going on.

The blade master heard a cry of anguish come from Silk and at first thought that he had been injured. Yet when he heard his friend hiss to him to roll he knew that it had been a feint. Zhirin didn’t question his friend and did as he was told. They both separated rapidly and Zhirin knew that it might be a while before he saw his friend again. More arrows were heard as they pierced through the air and struck those limited few players that were wandering around the root town. There weren’t many but they were still being attacked. Slowly his eyes began to adjust to the lack of light. His pupils widened allowing more light enter and he saw that it wasn’t as dark as he had first thought. The lights from the shops appeared as beacons in the darkness. The blade master was aware that if he moved towards anyone of those lights he would be taken out in a manner of seconds. There was not much that he felt he could do though.

More arrows pierced through the air towards Zhirin but he dropped to the ground as they passed over where he had been standing. The blade master stayed low to the ground and slowly crawled away from where the arrows were still soaring. As he moved away he thought about drawing his sword but at the moment that wouldn’t do him any good. Instead he continued forward at a slow pace so that he wouldn’t make much noise. His breath was a little heavy but he was doing all he could to keep quite. His heart was thumping rapidly but as he moved away from the arrows it began to return to its normal beat. He reached his hand over to continued crawling but felt a wooden plank. Zhirin knew that if he could make it across the bridge then he might be safe.

Slowly but steadily the blade master crawled along the bridge. The wooden planks were being generous and had not revealed his location. He was somewhere around the middle of the bridge when he heard a slight thud a few inches ahead of him. There was an arrow protruding from one of the wooden planks. Suddenly there was another thud and another arrow. Zhirin knew that his cover was blown. He pushed himself up and ran the remainder of the bridge as arrows flew too close to him for his liking. As he felt that the floor was dirt once more he leapt forward into a roll. When he stood back up he saw that there was a light not too far up ahead. It was one of the shops but and there was a frightened player moving closer to it.

Idiot, doesn’t he know that he will be a sitting duck of he stands openly next the stand. Argh, I can’t just let him get himself killed. The blade master made a dash for the shop. As he neared, the player turned towards him. Fear was apparent in the young man’s eyes. He could barely stop his body from shaking yet he was still able to raise his spear. Zhirin shook his head and leapt right at him. Both of them tumbled to the floor as a set of arrows flew where the young man’s head had been. Zhirin covered the Long Arm’s mouth as more arrows flew over towards them. Once he felt that the immediate danger had passed he turned to the long arm. “Get out of here. Stay low to the ground and whatever you do, do not get near any lights.”

Zhirin moved away before the player was even able to thank him. The blade master had no idea what was going on but he wanted to find out. These archers were attacking anyone and he did not understand why. Silk, I need to find him. I am not sure whether it would be best to be in a group at the moment or if splitting up is the best option. But we have to form some sort of plan regardless of what would be best.

The next half hour or so was basically a great chase through the darkness that had become Dun Loireag. He managed to kill only one other fighter, and this was by chance. The poor sap had been standing atop a rocky outcrop notching another arrow when Silk came up behind him and shoved him straight off. He bounded down the hill, smacking some very sharp rocks, and at one point, almost catching himself upon one, but in the end, he went over the edge. Silk did not know this, though, for he was not so stupid as to stay in that same location for very long.

The clash of steel on steel rang through the once quiet sky capital, and he prayed that at least one of the players that was so unlucky as to be located in the city during the takeover was of copious strength. Zhirin and he could not take them all by their lonesome, and now that they were separated, that seemed even more unlikely. Everywhere he turned, shadowy figures were notching arrows, snapping necks, or running to kill some other hapless player.

As it was, there was no real detection of the Fist Fighter so far, but he knew that this could not last forever. At one point he had tried to log out, avoid the affair completely, but it seemed as if there was some sort of barrier keeping him from doing so. Obviously, these antagonizers did not want their coup to be discovered, and so they would destroy all witnesses. Well this witness was not going to let that happen.

First, he would find Zhirin, but this was easier said than done. The Blademaster could be anywhere, and more than likely, he was dead, but Silk would not believe that, not of Zhirin. His heart pounding, adrenaline like fire in his veins, the Fist Fighter turned another corner -- to meet up with a trio of warriors: a Blademaster, a Heavyblade, and a Twinblade. As soon as he had turned the corner and realized what met him, he spun around and sprinted in the other direction. Shouts of anger and a cackle of evil laughter followed him, and he sprinted all the harder. Maybe if there was only two of them, he could take them, but three against one? He would be lucky to escape with his soul in one piece.

He dashed around a corner and into an alleyway, hopefully losing the trio of warriors. Amazingly, he did. He leaned against the wall and melted into a puddle of panting skin, unable to keep himself quiet despite his efforts and the danger. For now, he was just happy to be alive.

Minutes ticked by, and no one had found him. He had caught his breath, regained his wits, and pulled together his meager courage, so now he could go face the dangers again. He stalked out of the alley, silent as a shadow, and walked almost straight into a squad of warriors, at least a half dozen of them.

Just my luck. Goddamnit.

He turned tail and sprinted away, not caring where he went. Before long, a vast horde of fighters was chasing him, and it seemed that he was the last one left, the only one to suvive the slaughter. He crossed a bridge and was a quarter of the way past another one when he saw Zhirin, sprinting towards him, his legs pumping and his face red from exertion. At first, he was elated to see his friend and began motioning for him to turn around, there was enemies chasing him. Then he realized that Zhirin was doing the exact same thing. They were trapped.

Darkness was not really a bad thing, if one knew how to use it properly. Zhirin was full aware that stealth was his friend and so he welcomed the darkness as his enemies drew near. Every now and then as he ran he would hear a slight whistle which indicated that archers were still following him closely. The longer he stayed in the darkness, the easier it was to move around. Eventually the lack of light no longer bothered him. His hearing, smelling, and taste had become a bit more keen in order to make up for his lack of sight.

Time passed rather rapidly as the blade master continuously ran from arrows that sought to take his life. Soon he found that he had lost those who had been chasing him. He turned around and saw that there was another figure running around the same area where he had been. It seemed that his pursuers had switched their target. Zhirin shook his head as he thought about how long the player would last. He turned around and continued forward but at a much slower pace. Maybe if he could stay concealed long enough the whole ordeal would blow over. He knew that it would be safe to stay hidden but he also knew that it wasn’t right to just let others die without doing anything. Zhirin moved around a spire and began to think.

At the moment he couldn’t hear anything nearby though there was the sound of someone approaching. Zhirin waited to see who it was. He was hoping that it was Silk but something told him that it wasn’t. Unfortunately he had been correct. Instead of his good friend it was one of the archers. He was about to make a break for it when he noticed that the archer had no idea he was there. Instead the archer was kneeling down and aiming his bow at something off in the distance. Zhirin didn’t have to see to know that it must have been an inauspicious player who hadn’t concealed himself. As the archer notched his arrow Zhirin drew his sword while he sprinted forward. The archer made an attempt to turn but the blade master was too close.

Zhirin reached over from behind the archer and clasped the man’s mouth shut to prevent him from screaming while he drove his sword into the archer’s back. The blade master let go of the lifeless body of the archer and moved on. As it turned out, that had not been the only archer. There was another one around the bend. Once more Zhirin approached an archer in the same manner he had done before. This time though the archer was a female. She was also a little farther ahead than the lat had been which allowed her to react in time. Unlike the last archer she was able to see Zhirin coming, though that didn’t help. She was able to reach prepare an arrow in time as he neared. The blade master swatted her bow aside and clamped her mouth shut with his hand as he had done before.

There was evident fear in her eyes as he prepared his blade for the thrust. Suddenly he didn’t really feel like ramming his sword through her like he had done to the last archer. He didn’t know why, maybe it was the fact that she was truly afraid or maybe it was the fact that she was a female. Regardless of why he let her go. She was surprised but didn’t protest. Zhirin smiled and then he rapidly drove the hilt of his sword into her abdomen. Her eyes widened before she passed out. If she thought that I was just going to let her go then she was sadly mistaken. I may not kill her but that does not mean that I will just let her go free. Zhirin gave thought to throwing the body of the female archer off the but decided not to. There seemed to be something else that he needed to deal with.

It appeared as though he hadn’t been as stealthy as he thought. There were a few figures that were rushing after him with their blades drawn. The blade master sheathed his blade and ran. He knew that there were probably more of them than he could see. Also, he was aware that if he sheathed his sword he would be able to run faster. As he ran he glanced over his shoulder and saw that he had been correct. There were about five shadowed figures chasing him and it seemed as though more were following. Another glance back revealed that they were actually catching up to him. Zhirin shook his head and sprinted forward. He wasn’t the strongest of characters so he used speed to make up for the lack of strength. Again he looked back but now he could see that he was leaving them behind.

Maybe once he left them behind he could go search for Silk. Zhirin ran onto a bridge but saw that there was a figure running straight towards him. He sighed as he imagined that he would have to fight but as the figure drew nearer he was able to tell that it was Silk. His slight moment of elation was cut short as he saw that there was approximately half a dozen fighters chasing his friend. Zhirin stopped halfway down the bridge. He drew his sword and shrugged as Silk drew near. “My friend…I think that we are trapped. Our options are to fight or...” he peered over the edge of the bridge, “jump. And I don’t think either option is very good.”

(OOC: Zhirin, I'm going on a tennis tournament for the next 10 days or so, depending on how well I do. I'll post whenever I can, but that probably means never, sorry to leave you like this.)

"My friend, I think that we are trapped. Our options are to fight or..." Zhirin peered over the edge into the abyss below, "jump. And I don?t think either option is very good."

Silk scratched his head thoughtfully. "We'll fight." He never was one to back down from a battle, especially from such low lives as these. They could hold them off for a while, but eventually they would be killed, and how bad could that be anyway? Silk turned his back to Zhirin and faced the oncoming horde of warriors, his body planted to the stone bridge below.

"Luck."

With that, he charged head-on into the ranks of his enemies. This was totally unexpected, and especially since only one man could fit on the bridge at a time, it looked for a moment that they might actually survive with their lives.

"Kiwami! Vak Kruz! Juk Rom!"

Silk was merciless with his attacks, shooting spells with reckless abandon, landing kicks and punches without fear. In the face of such fighting prowess, the cowardly warriors lost heart, and instead, they allowed their archers to finish the job. With nowhere to dodge, they were like sitting ducks with big red targets painted across their chests. His adrenaline drained out of his feet along with his heart, mind, and bowels. At least a dozen archers lined up on either side, all of them with their arrows nocked and their bows glowing with elemental power.

"This can't end well," he said, stating the painfully obvious. "Let's jump." With that, he tossed himself over the edge, screaming rather uncouth words at his antagonists. They deserved as much, he thought as he fell into the cold abyss below.



The Fist Fighter groaned as he slowly clawed his way back to consciousness. Something was very, very bright, and it was not helping out his optic nerve very much. The ground felt hard and rocky beneath his body, and how he survived he could not know, but what he did know was that he lived. The Fist Fighter took quite a while to regain his bearings, but finally he was able to see despite the irritatingly bright light and the fact that his body ached all over. As he looked around, he saw that Zhirin was still out cold and that they were in a elliptical room whose floor funneled downwards gently, ending in a single point. There, on top of a pedestal of some sort, lay what appeared to be a simple charm of some sort. As for the light, Silk could not discern where it came from, just that it was immensely bright, and it kept his eyes at a constant squint.

Here, the Fist Fighter went to the Pedestal, not really aware of what he was doing. Truth be told, he was still half-unconscious, but whatever the case, he was being drawn to the little charm, curiosity having overridden everything else. It wasn't really his, but there did not seem to be anyone else in the room, and no one could really say that it was theirs. After all, it was just sitting there, and perhaps someone had lost it, and they would more than likely want him to return it. Yes, he would just hold onto it until the rightful owner claimed it.

Now that he was closer, he could see that it was an amethyst, very small, about the size of a marble, maybe a touch larger. It was attached to a silver chain, very light, very fine, but in his hands, it felt slightly heavier. No doubt this chain was of high density silver, and that explained its weight. He slipped the strange charm into his pocket and went to awaken Zhirin.

“We’ll fight,” Zhirin heard the Fist Fighter say. Then his friend turned around and prepared for the fight that was to come. The blade master smiled and turned around. As he did so he heard Silk say only a single word, “Luck,” and they sure were going to need it. Zhirin had expected his friend to say that they would fight and he had only suggested jumping as a sort of joke. Now though, he considered whether it would be such a bad idea. Regardless, he wasn’t going to jump without first taking a few of those fighters down. The blade master dashed forward with his sword scraping the wooden planks of the bridge.

As he drew near to the shocked warrior he lifted his blade up into a thrust. He had been applying pressure to the sword while he ran causing a vast amount of friction between the wooden planks and the sword. That same friction propelled his forward as the lifted it into a thrust. The bewildered warrior tried to parry but was not quick to react. Zhirin’s sword was well into his chest before he could even lift his blade. Without a moment to spare the blade master kicked his dead opponent off of his blade and back towards the others that were still coming after him. They were certainly shocked to see him act so rapidly and dispose of one of their own with so much ease. Though they were surprised they still managed to throw the body aside and prepare for him, as he was only feet away from.

One thing that Zhirin knew was that keeping balance was an important part of fighting. He remembered back to when he quested with both Silk and Ronin. Back then when all three of them coordinated their attack so that they all attacked at the same time, Zhirin was usually the one who attacked low. He had actually become quite efficient at striking from low angles and staying near to the ground. That was what inspired the thrust that he had previously used. That was not the first time that he had used it though. He used that thrust much when he had gone to seek Paliathede the last time. In fact he had tried that same attack on the swordmanoid, but, he had been too skilled to be caught off guard.

While those thoughts fluttered through his mind he let the grip on his blade loosen and the sword scrape along the ground. As he ran forward the sword actually looked like a tail that was wagging back and forth. When he reached the following warrior, a heavy blade of rather large build, he reversed his grip on his sword. With a fluid motion he slashed low and continued in a circle even as the man clutched at his leg. Zhirin came around with his blade low again but slashed upward in an uppercut fashion. The heavy blade, too preoccupied with his severed leg, didn’t even see the blade as it rose. With another warrior dispatched so easily the next couple that followed decided to be a bit more careful as to how they approached the blade master. They had first believed that he would be easy prey but now they saw that he was a little better than they had given him credit.

With his grip on his sword still reversed, Zhirin lunged forward. As he drew near he leapt back and extended his left arm and while still in the air, he called out, “Rai Rom”. Even as he landed on the wooden planks he could see his spell taking effect. He knew that the warrior upfront would be dead within a matter of seconds but he wanted to be sure. The blade master dashed forward while twirling his sword back to its normal position. He thrust his blade into the warrior as the lightning spun rapidly in a deadly cyclone. Zhirin felt the tingle of the electricity flowing into his sword and up his arm but he didn’t stop. He removed his blade and hacked away at the Long Arm that followed while letting the tornado of static electricity finish off the man he had just attacked.

As the lighting died down and darkness began to seep all around them once more Zhirin could see that the fighters were not as willing to charge forward as they once had been. While the lighting had taken its toll on the warriors Zhirin had finished off many more with quick swipes and precise thrusts. Now it seemed as though group of fighters didn’t have such a great advantage. The blade master motioned for them to draw closer but many of them shook their heads and ran the other way. He sighed as they ran away but he saw something soaring through the air towards him even as they ran. Zhirin leapt back and let the arrow hit the wooden planks of the bridge. As the last of the fighters left the bridge he saw there was a squadron of archers ready to fire.

Zhirin stepped back and eventually looked over his shoulder. He hoped that maybe Silk had cleared a path ahead but he saw that the same had happened on his friend’s end. They were once again trapped but this time it didn’t seem as though they would be able to fight their way out. He heard Silk say that it couldn’t end well and that they should jump. Zhirin couldn’t help but nod in agreement. At least if they jumped they would have a better chance at surviving then being skewered by dozens of arrows. Zhirin sheathed his sword as Silk jumped. Then with a mocking salute to the archers he did likewise.

How long he had fallen was something that he couldn’t know but he did realize that somewhere along the way down he had passed out. Now he was in a sort of dream state yet he knew that it was just that, a dream. Places, people, sounds, things, they all flashed around him in rapid circles as he made an attempt to see what was going on. There was nothing that he could do though. It was just a dream but there was nothing that he could do to control it. He saw his parents, then his friends, afterwards he saw his fellow clan members along with their leader. His neighbors, Melissa who was also known as Shandel was there, but so were Paliathede, Cetlior, and Alyana. He could barely make everyone out but he just knew that it was them. None of them were where they should have been though. The people from the game were where his family, friends, and neighbors should be while they were in the game.

There was something more though. None of them seemed to even notice him or themselves for that matter. Everyone was just wandering around in rapid circles while he stood at the center of the chaos. The only thing that they seemed to notice was that they were somewhere where they weren’t supposed to be. Suddenly Zhirin drew his sword, unaware of why. The blade seemed to have life of its own in his hands. It almost appeared as though it would jump down and run away but instead it hummed. The hum grew into a voice, and though he knew it was a voice he could not tell what it said or where he had heard it before.

Then a scream pierced through the air and everything fell apart. Another image took the place of everything that had been there before. There were two people running down a corridor. One of them was severely injured while the other helped the first move along. The scream sounded again through the air and traveled down the vast corridor. Both of them stared at each other for a moment before continuing on. Zhirin then realized that he was watching what had happened days ago in the fortress. He was seeing how he had helped Paliathede escape and how they had both known that the Fire Witch had given her life to save them when the scream pierced through the air.

“It’s not over Zhirin, there is still much that you have to do. So don’t die and don’t give up.” The same voice that he had heard coming from his sword had just spoken again.

Everything went black. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw that Silk was standing near him. He wondered whether Silk had said that, but he knew that it hadn’t been him. Well it doesn’t matter who it was. Because whoever said that, was right. I won’t die and I won’t give up because there is still so much that must be done. Zhirin sat up and looked around while rubbing his head. The room they were in was certainly odd. He looked at his friend and asked with a smile, “Do you have any idea where we are? It seems so alien and peculiar. Especially considering that we just fell from Dun Loireag…which is from what I could tell, many feet up in the air.”

(OOC: No need to apologize my friend. Don’t worry about the quest, if you can post then great, but if you can’t then no biggy. Oh and like I said earlier. G’luck! ^_^ )

"Wake up, Zhirin," said Silk as he shook his friend's shoulder. Within moments, the other fighter was awake, and he looked around quizzically, asking, "Do you have any idea where we are? It seems so alien and peculiar. Especially considering that we just fell from Dun Loireag... which is from what I could tell, many feet up in the air."

"I don't have the slightest clue as to where we are, Zhirin, but I can tell you this: I don't like it." Without really knowing why, the Fist Fighter omitted the strange incident with the charm, which now lay comfortably in his pocket. "By the way, I hope you know how we can get out of here... because I'm clueless."

As if on some hidden cue, a portal appearing to be exactly the same as the Chaos Gate formed in the center of the room. The Fist Fighter looked over at his companion and shrugged, as if to say, "I'm as lost as you." He approached the anomaly with great caution, but as he drew closer, he could not help but feel a strong sense of stability. Before long, he was directly in front of it, and so far he had received no harm. Turning, he looked at Zhirin and beckoned him forward, saying that it was safe.

"Well... I don't see any other way out of here. Shall we?" They stepped through and were whisked away in the blink of an eye.



And there they were, a pair of warriors standing in the middle of a densely forested field, one which appeared totally covered with an endless expanse of tall firs, pines, and oaks. The trunks of these towering behemoths were at least 6 feet across, and their first branches were more than 20 feet above the flat earth, which was littered with a thick carpet of fallen leaves. A thick mist also inhabited this forest, and it gave the entire scenario an aura of unreality. When he gazed skyward, Silk could barely make out patches of clear blue sky, but otherwise, heaven's dome held nothing but tall pine branches for the eyes.

Zhirin was the first to sense the danger: a pair of Goblin Nights. They stood perched on branches high above, ready to fall upon their unsuspected victims. Unfortunately for them, their heavy armor gave away their presence, and Zhirin whipped his head around to face the oncoming adversaries. Silk was ready in a split-second, his fist guards raised to block the heavy blades that the Goblins carried.

With a quick flurry of punches, Silk managed to knock the armored Goblin to the floor. Even on the grounded as such, these warriors were truly a fearsome sight, with their black and spiked armor and intimidating helmets, not to mention their wicked curved sabres. With an agility that he could not account for, the Goblin Night was upon his feet and screaming hell at the Fist Fighter, who could barely avoid the first devastating slash that was aimed for his head. A quick roll to the side rewarded him with another near-death experience as the blade of his foe nearly chopped his face in half. He was up in a flash and delivering a brutal assault complete with axe-kick and roundhouse when he was knocked to the floor with a hard punch to the gut from the Goblin Night.

In such close quarters, his opponent's sword was useless, but unfortunately, it seemed as if the grunt knew how to punch. The fearsome warrior was drawing close, grinning quite viciously at the hopelessly out of breath Fist Fighter. Drawing all the energy he had left, the seemingly helpless Fist Fighter fired off a pair of fireballs, which characterized Silk's favorite lifesaver: Vak Kruz. The Goblin Night was totally surprised by this attack, and the fireballs collided straight into the sides of his enemy, elliciting an enormous explosion. By then, Silk had regained his breath, and he leapt to his feet and made ready for his opponent.

It was fortunate that he did, for the Goblin Night came out of the inferno with a mighty swipe of his sword, dispelling the flames from the air surrounding him. Silk lifted his Fist Guards and angled them just so, allowing him to deflect the attack unscathed. He then kicked upwards, knocking his opponent backwards, and with a double-roundhouse, slammed the hapless Goblin Night into a tree, relieving the monster of his life.

As Zhirin had expected, Silk also had no idea as to where they were. He was about to stand when Silk continued speaking. His friend divulged how he found an amethyst amulet over on the pedestal that lay in the center of the room. Zhirin merely nodded after Silk finished. He stood and heard his friend tell him that he hoped that he knew a way out. Yet even as the words still lingered in the air something peculiar occurred. A portal that resembled the Chaos Gate back in the root towns appeared near them. He looked over towards Silk and merely shrugged. It was apparently the only way to exit the room but he didn’t know if it could be trusted. Silk walked over to it cautiously but as he neared the portal, he seemed more confident in that it was secure. He mentioned that it was safe and motioned for Zhirin to move closer. As the fist fighter stepped through the portal the blade master merely sighed and followed.

Their bodies were carried away in the same manner as when they traveled to a field through a Chaos Gate. When they rematerialized Zhirin saw that they stood in a densely populated forest. Though, it was unlike other forests that he had been to. There seemed to be no grass and even if there was it would be hard to notice. The ground was covered in fallen leaves from the firs, pines, and oaks that were sprawled across the field. As he looked at the ground Zhirin realized that they would not be able to move about the area stealthily. Every step that they took would be revealed clearly. He tried to think that leaves were still fresh and would conceal their location, but as he heard the crunch under his left foot when he shifted, he knew that was not possible.

Suddenly his eyes narrowed, something was amiss, Zhirin could feel it. He could feel that they were being watched. He pretended to admire the field in an attempt to find whatever scouts lurked in the area but it was to no avail. It didn’t matter where he looked, he could see nothing but trees. Despite that he had seen nothing, he still firmly believed his instincts. There was definitely something out there that was waiting for the right time. Slowly, he placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword. He did it to appear as if he were resting his hand but in reality he was preparing. Just as he moved his hand below the hilt and gripped the sheath tightly, he heard it. It was a sound that he had heard before on the battlefield. It was faint but undistinguishable, the sound of creaking armor.

Immediately his head whirled in the direction of the noise. Up high on a pair of branches were two Goblin Knights. They instantly leapt down to attack both of the warriors as they saw that their cover was blown. Zhirin dove to the side in order to avoid being crushed. As he came out of a roll he popped his sword out of its sheath with his thumb. While the sword hovered in the air for a split second he gripped it firmly in his right hand and dashed towards the goblin. His sword swipe came in an uppercut fashion of which he had grown quite fond of recently. The goblin parried the attack effortlessly but was shocked to find that the blade master continued with an alternate attack.

Zhirin followed by crossing his left leg behind his right and pivoting, as soon as his blade was intercepted by the goblin’s blade. He brought up his left elbow and crashed it into the back of the goblin’s helmet. The last time he had tried that type of follow up attack it had been on Paliathede and it had not worked. He was glad to find that this time his opponent stumbled forward. In an instant he was leaping forward in an attempt to dispatch of the goblin but he found that the creature was not down for the count just yet. Somehow it managed to turn around and parry his thrust. The blade master moved back as the goblin knight unleashed a series of attacks that would easily claim his life if he was not careful.

Eventually Zhirin felt pressure against his back and knew that he was up against a tree. His opponent’s sword was raised up in the air and was swung in a horizontal fashion. The blade master saw the blade coming and thought of parrying but decided not to. Instead he fell to the floor with his stomach pressed up against the ground. Immediately he heard the sounds that he had hoped for. A thump and a few grunts indicated that goblin had struck the tree and now his sword was stuck. Zhirin leapt back up to his feet only to find that the goblin was still attacking him, even without its blade.

Avoiding the creature’s punches was easily accomplished seeing as how it obviously didn’t have that much practice. There were a couple of times where he thought about just using a Rai Rom to stop the goblin but he didn’t want to risk catching the forest on fire. Suddenly he heard an explosion over where Silk was and turned his head to see what had happened. Apparently the fist fighter had shot off a Vak Kruz. Zhirin was glad to see that none of the trees had caught fire and turned back towards his opponent. Even as he did so he noticed that the goblin knight was charging in towards him. The blade master merely stepped to the side and seized the goblin by its head as it ran past him. Zhirin’s left hand clutched the top of the creature’s head as he thought about what he was going to do. The creature was held in place and had its back was facing him, he could easily dispatch it.

The goblin let out a high pitched screech as the blade master thought about what to do. Before it could finish, Zhirin had brought his right arm around the creature’s neck, almost as if to hug it. Suddenly he jerked his arm back and along with it came his sword. The blade master let go of the goblin as he felt his left hand got heavier. Now the creature was merely a lifeless clump of flesh, one that Zhirin was no longer preoccupied with.

Once again the blade master heard the faint sound of armor off in the distance. This time though it was not only up in the trees but also along the ground. Crap, he must have been calling for reinforcements. Zhirin turned and rushed over towards Silk. His boots crushing leaves with every step that he took. “We have to go. There are more coming. Also, we can’t really sneak around. All of these leaves will give us away in an instant, common let’s…” he stopped as he heard a slight whistle in the air. The blade master leapt back and found that an arrow struck where he had been standing. He looked up among the trees off in the distance and saw a set of archers. Zhirin knew that it wouldn’t be long before the set that was running along the ground caught up to them. Without a word both he and Silk ran off in the opposite direction. Maybe they could lose them if they ran far enough.

Despite the fact that the leaves gave away their location as they ran, the forest was being beneficial. The vast amount of trees blocked many if not all of the arrows that were hurled their way. The longer they ran, the less Zhirin heard any noise. Yet he still felt as though they were right behind him. Moments later he stopped to see if he could still hear them. It was quite fortunate that he had stopped for an arrow veered right in front of his face. How did they get on that side? Argh, it doesn’t matter, we have to go. He dashed forward in order to catch up to Silk and when his friend turned to see if it was safe for them to stop he just motioned for them to keep running.

How many of those guys are out there? the Fist Fighter thought pensively. #%@$!!! was Silk's next thought, as an arrow came to a thrumming stop in the tree directly before his face. It was not a pleasant feeling. Who the hell's idea was it to put these accursed archers in this game anyways?

As they sprinted away from their bloodthirsty pursuers, their feet crunched unpleasantly with the decaying leaves and pine needles below, and at every loud crackle, Silk flinched in his mind. There's no way we'll lose these bastards. The Fist Fighter was in the habit of thinking negatively, yet continuing to fight on. Maybe it was reverse-psychology. Maybe it was insanity. The next thing he did definitely was.

The Fist Fighter spun on his heel, performing a full one-eighty. Planting his feet, he prepared himself for the worst as he summoned the energy required for the spell. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the parts of his mind debated heatedly over whether this was prudent, but Silk was always less conservative. Despite his reasonable side screaming at his actions, the Fist Fighter called out the spell with authority. When he had decided on something, he did it. No regrets.

"Vak Kruz!"

Just as he planned, the fireballs collided together, causing an enormous explosion which would have knocked him off his feet had he not planted them, one of the more prudent decisions he had made. A not so prudent decision was actually firing the Vak Kruz, for although they had halted their pursuers, the hungry flames were not picky on who they would scorch. Now, instead of people after their heads, it was flames -- and smoke. Predictably, the dry, dead leaves had caught fire like oil, and the flames would soon grow into a massive wildfire, and their lives would mean nothing if the winds were not in their favor. Fire was a fickle thing, and for a foolish moment, the Fist Fighter was mesmerized by the dancing flames. His staring into their malicious yet seductive dance was like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming automobile, but he soon snapped out of his reverie as a falling branch collided with the ground not yards away from where he was standing. He ran, and fast.

Zhirin had probably been yelling at him to come on, but Silk had more than likely not heard him, for the crackling of the fire was loud enough for a rock concert. Already, soot and ash covered his body with its clinging blackness, but their pursuers were now thoroughly delayed. At what cost, though? That fire is like a blinding beacon for every monster that is in this field, and they'll come to this place like bugs to a lamp. See what you've done, you moron? His reasonable side was scolding him with a vengeance, but his stupid side was still gleefully unaware. Yes, for now they were safe, but they would need to get lost if they intended to stay that way for long.

The fire was more fleet of foot then the Fist Fighter had at first predicted, and the fleeing pair redoubled their efforts to get far from this now flaming forest. (OOC: Check out that alliteration skill! :D ) Already, the solitary Vak Kruz had grown to a blazing inferno, and the forest seemed to have already lost any chances it once had of survival. At this, Silk felt a deep pang of regret, but they would have to find the dungeon, and fast, for undoubtedly it would be underground, and that was where they wanted to be.

The sound of an explosion and a gust of wind forced the blade master to skid to a stop while turning around. He did it again, didn’t he? He saw that Silk was standing before a growing fire and realized that he had once again fired a Vak Kruz. This time though the fire did not die down when the smoke cleared. The small flames that ensued made their way towards the dead leaves and soon began to crawl up the trees. Zhirin called out to Silk when he noticed that his friend was just standing there, oblivious to the danger that was rapidly approaching him. The Fist Fighter didn’t respond or turn. Zhirin saw a dirt clump on the floor and thought about tossing it over but he then saw that it wouldn’t be needed. A fallen branch knocked Silk out of his trancelike state.

No more arrows whistled through the air towards them as they ran. Instead, they had a roaring fire on their heels. The blade master turned to see if they were leaving the flames behind but was surprised to find that the fire was actually catching up to them. Both he and Silk dashed forward at even greater speeds in order to avoid the flaming chaos that was behind them. Zhirin realized that the fire would attract many unwanted guests and he really didn’t want to be around when they arrived. Not only that, but how long would they be able to run from the fire? At some point they would have to stop and rest. Their only hope was finding the dungeon.

I still feel the heat from that inferno. We have been running for some time now, we should have left it behind. Once again the blade master turned to lay on eye on conflagration that was behind them. This time though he was glad to find that they were farther ahead of the flames than he had expected. As he looked into the flames he saw something move. He would have thought that it had been a falling tree yet it was still moving. Soon he realized that it was actually four things and that they were getting closer. The blade master ran forward even faster in attempt to escape whatever was behind them. When he heard a series of barks he began slowing down.

Again he turned around to face the impending danger. Four Hell Dobermans were making their way towards them. Obviously their fire tolerance had protected them as they ran through the raging inferno that was now behind them. Even as they approached Zhirin could see flickers of fire sprouting from their mouths. He drew his sword and moved over to the right a few feet. He knew that the Dobermans weren’t going to be that much of a problem but he didn’t want the dogs to be tailing them the entire way to the dungeon.

“Silk, we should deal with them now. No use in running from them. It would be much harder to outrun them.”

As he had expected, and hoped, the Dobermans branched off in sets of two. One pair went after Silk while the other drew nearer to him. Zhirin took a step back with his left foot and turned slightly so as to put his body adjacent to the oncoming attackers. He extended his sword towards the Dobermans but tilted it downward. It didn’t take long for the creatures to reach him. The lashed out at him but he merely sidestepped. If he was swift he could finish the battle with only a few well placed shots. The second Hell Doberman leapt up towards his neck. Zhirin was aware that the neck was a favorable target for many dogs and was well prepared.

In a swift motion he brought up his right knee as he dog soared through the air towards him. He caught it right under its jaw when it was not even two feet away from him. The Doberman recoiled in pain as the blade master brought his knee back down. As he was going to give the dog a final blow he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Zhirin turned in time to see the previous dog leaping through the towards. Considering that he wanted to end the battle rather rapidly he decided to take a hit. As the creature approached him he raised his left arm to protect the rest of his body.

Zhirin grimaced in pain as the Hell Doberman clamped its teeth into his arm. The dog tugged at his arm but the blade master knew what he had to do. Despite the horrible feeling of his arm being ripped off he lifted his arm up, bringing with it the dog. He lifted his sword with his right arm and ran it through the chest of the Doberman. Gradually the jaw of the Doberman began to relax. Zhirin removed his sword from the creature’s chest and gave swung it one last time at the creature as it writhed on the floor.

Once more the blade master noticed something coming after him from the corner of his eye. This time though he saw that avoiding what was coming at him would be much more difficult. He reached down and pulled up the body of the dead Hell Doberman to use it as a shield. A blast ensued and when the smoke cleared Zhirin was still standing yet the body of the Doberman was no more. He looked over to see flames sprouting from the maw of Hell Doberman that remained. Apparently it had recovered from the knee shot that Zhirin had delivered earlier and had fired off a Vak Kruz in an attempt to get rid of him. With nothing more to defend himself with, Zhirin dashed forward.

It didn’t take long for him to come within range of the creature, especially since it too was running towards him. He lifted his sword as if to strike but instead of bringing the blade down, he brought his right foot up. Again he had hit the dog in its jaw, only that this time a crack was heard. The blade master saw as blood surged from the Doberman’s mouth. He sighed and slashed downward with his blade as the creature whimpered. While the dog’s data vanished into the air, he sheathed his sword.

Blood was hardly flowing from his left forearm. Zhirin would have thought that the injure would have sprouted more of the vital substance but as he glanced at it he understand why it didn’t. Most of the area where the Hell Doberman had bitten was singed. He remembered that flames had been spewing from its mouth most if not all of the time. When it bit him the flames that were emitted must have charged the flesh around the wound. The pain of the teeth sinking into his forearm must have bypassed the pain from the flames. Zhirin placed his right hand on the wound and winced. “Repth,” he called out. A blue glow emitted from under his hand which seeped into the burnt and torn flesh. The tissue began to mend while gaining its original whitish brown color. Zhirin removed his hand to find that it was as good as new.

He turned back in the direction that he originally had been headed in. “Hey Silk we should really hurry to find that dungeon…” he turned to see how his friend was doing. In all his haste to dispose of the dogs he hadn’t bothered to check up on the Fist Fighter. But then there was also really no need. Silk was one level higher than he and if there was trouble he would call out to him. We need to hurry, I am pretty sure there is much more from where those things came from.

They ran for quite some time, and fortunately, the space between their fleeing bodies and the fire was growing at a steady pace. Occasionally, the loud crash of a tree plummeting to the ground would startle the Fist Fighter, and directly afterwards, send another pang of guilt through his body. But his guilt was soon forgotten as a quartet of snarling Hell Dobermans gave chase to the fleeing warriors. They were weaker, this was true, but turning to fight would present some new difficulties: if they did not destroy the Dobermans quickly enough, the fire would reach out and engulf them in its scorching grasp. Silk did not know whether or not he could accomplish this, but Zhirin seemed to have made the decision for him, for he spun around and began laying waste to the hounds with his blade, which shone eerily in the flames.

Realizing that he did not have much time, the Fist Fighter was on full-offensive, and he quickly dispatched the nearest of the flaming Doberman with a flurry of punches. The hellish hound squealed as he was knocked to the floor, and for the moment, the Fist Fighter ignored him and turned to his companion, who was slashing with his claws in an animal fury. Instantly, several long gashes appeared in his arm, which he had used in an attempt to ward of the ferocious attacks. Unwilling to waste too much time, even in defense, Silk whirled around and delivered a stunning roundhouse to the offending Doberman's jaw. The other hound had recovered from his beating and was back with a vengeance as it leaped upon Silk's back, knocking the Fist Fighter to the leaf-strewn ground. A brief tussle insued, including copious amounts of grunting, snarling, and shouting, but the end result was a Fist Fighter on the bottom, and a wild, flaming hound on the top. Desperate to save his throat from getting ripped from his spine, Silk had a strangle hold upon the Hound's neck. But that did nothing to save him from the Hound's claws, which inflicted slash after fire-elemented slash upon the poor warrior's chest, arms, and stomach.

A Vak Kruz would serve no purpose here, for the Hell Doberman's had such a resistance to fire that they might as well be immune, and such a spell would probably make the vicious dog even stronger, much less harm the beast. Taking a desperate gamble, Silk shoved the Hound upwards and away, then in the time that it took for the beast to lunge for his neck, Silk screamed out, "Kiwami!" The double punch attack did its job well, and the Hound was literally rocketed backwards, meeting its end against the trunk of an oak tree, its spine snapping with a sickening crunch. It wasn't so sickening for Silk, though, whose Ring Mail had seen better days, and whose skin was regretting ever coming on this little foray into the fields.

Groaning as he rose to his feet, his body bleeding freely in many places, the warrior struggled away from the oncoming fire. Zhirin did not seem to be too worse for the wear, so without a word, they retreated away from the choking smoke and flames, which had regained an alarming amount of the lost ground. Risking a quick glance backwards, he saw that the flames were devouring the dry leaves and trees, and now the small Vak Kruz had become a colossal forest fire, stretching all the way across the horizon. Truly, this forest would be no more. Ironically, the Vak Kruz that was ment to save his life would more than likely be his undoing, Silk realized bitterly as he took yet another aching step forward.

They had gone only about a hundred yards when it happened. Silk had taken another step upon the dry ground when the entire floor beneath him collapsed, and he and Zhirin plummeted below as the darkness swallowed their startled cries.



Surprisingly, the pit did not extend too far below the surface, probably only about a dozen feet. No real injuries had been inflicting, save for a bruised knee or a sore ass. And an added bonus: they had found the dungeon. An added pitfall: they had also found the monsters of the dungeon -- or monster, to be exact.

From the darkness appeared a very tall, very muscular Gladiator, and he seemed more than eager to grind their bones to make his bread. In his hand he wielded an enormous two-handed sword that would make any Heavyblade's weapon look like a toothpick, and any of a torturer's horrifying devices look like a fluffy pillow. So many spikes and other fearful ornaments adorned this weapon that Silk marveled at the Gladiator's ability to even hold the weapon, and in their current feeble state, he also wondered at how they were going to even land a hit against the monster. Burning green eyes stared out from behind a gruesome night-black helm, but besides a ragged loincloth and some heavy, knee-high boots, the fighter was unarmored. This was an advantage, at least, but Silk feared the worst.

Zhirin was more than ready to fight, as displayed by his immediate charge. Undoubtedly, the fighter prudently thought that such a reckless offensive would take the hulking Gladiator off guard, and Silk was not about to lose what would probably prove to be their only chance. Forcing his aching muscles to move, Silk followed up with an attack of his own, and he hoped for the best.

The blade master rolled over and pushed himself up. His head was still spinning and his body ached. As he stood up he tried to recall what had just happened. One moment he had been running at full speed with Silk and the next he found himself down in dank murky room. He looked up and saw that he hadn’t fallen from a great height. Not too high above was the roof that had given away. Obviously the dungeon was rather decrepit and had not been able to take both of their weights. Zhirin stepped forward and looked at his surroundings. Most of the room was rather dark, or so it seemed. His eyes still hadn’t adjusted and most of the light was coming from the broken ceiling. Even so, not much light entered as the treetops sheltered most of the forest and what was in it from the sunlight.

As his head cleared and his eyes adjusted, Zhirin was able to see the danger that lurked in the room. First he had thought that it was merely Silk, but that notion was destroyed once he saw the gleam of a rather large sword. The blade master couldn’t help but take a step back as he was able to fully see the fighter that stood before them. This warrior reminded Zhirin of an executioner, yet the blade master felt that an executioner would be much easier to defeat. He wished that the warrior held an axe to rid people of their heads instead of the frightening sword that he wielded. It truly resembled a weapon that the grim reaper would use, with its embedded spikes and saw-like edge. Attached to the sword was the rather large arm of this Gladiator, which in turn led the blade master to stare at the helmeted face of the beast. The eerie green glow of the Gladiator’s eyes seemed to protrude from the ghastly helmet that adorned its head.

Once he had looked away from those ominous eyes, Zhirin could see that the Gladiator held no real armor. The only thing on him besides the helmet and a tattered loincloth was a pair of rather heavy knee high boots. On anyone else though, those boots would probably go up to the waist. With no where else to run to, the blade master drew his sword. Even as he did so, he was already in a dash toward the behemoth. The short distance between him and the opponent was easily cleared. As he approached he made diagonal swipe with his blade but found that Gladiator could move swifter than he had hoped. The behemoth parried the attack easily and knocked Zhirin away with a swat of his free hand.

As the blade master had expected, the massive arm of the Gladiator felt like a ton of bricks. Zhirin stood back up to find that Silk had followed in right after him. He wasn’t surprised though, it wasn’t as though it was the first time that they had to work together in order to defeat an opponent. This would merely be another test of how well they could work together. The Fist Fighter and attacked and yet he too was brushed away with minimal ease. Zhirin did notice that even though the Gladiator was swifter than he had hoped, he was still rather slow paced. The blade master gave a sigh of relief as he now saw that there was hope for them to win. It was just that they would both have to time it really well in order to succeed. Realizing that the behemoth could charge at any moment, he dashed forward once more.

The Gladiator’s range of attack was much larger than Zhirin’s due to the fact that the Gladiator had longer arms and a larger sword. Just as the blade master approached, the Gladiator took a swing. Zhirin easily avoided by leaping back. He then dashed forward again only to find that he was again forced back. One thing that he already had in mind was acting as a decoy in order to give Silk a good opportunity to attack. As he dodged the enormous blade he considered as to how he was going to act as a decoy when the Fist Fighter was at a higher level. He soon came to realize that he would need to seem as though he was a greater threat. Once more he leapt back but this time he didn’t charge back in. He took a few steps back and held out his sword. Zhirin looked at his blade and cast Ap Ruem on himself.

Immediately a blue light began to emanate from the blade master’s body. He could feel the spell begin to take effect as a chill began to take over his body. The sweat on his body faded away the boost of the spell cooled his body. The moisture in the air around him began to freeze little by little and every now and then shards of ice fell to the flow. In the darkness of the room, it was an almost eerie sight. The deep blue light reflected off of the ice surrounding him making appear as though the shards themselves were empowered. Zhirin didn’t wait for the Gladiator to make a move. Instead he raised his sword and once again gathered his skill points. Concentrating on the blade he called out, “Rue Slash”

An even greater glow began to radiate from the blade of his sword as the new spell took effect. With the power of the Ap Ruem boosting his water attribute, the spell grew even more powerful than the previous times that he had used it. The blade itself was enveloped by a layer of ice that was sharper than he could have imagined. Then the shards of ice began to collect around the sword and became jagged spikes that fastened themselves to his blade. His sword now almost resembled that of the Gladiator’s, the only major difference was that his blade was glowing with the power of his spell.

The blade master twirled his sword a little and followed that by cracking his neck. He was merely trying to distract the Gladiator in order to buy his friend some time. So far it had been working. Zhirin was also aware that he couldn’t just stand there forever and not expected the behemoth to attack. With a sudden jerk he dashed forward at full speed. As he ran he raised his sword as to attack. He was aware that his empowered sword would only last for approximately two attacks. His Ap Ruem would still be in effect but the power of the Rue Slash would be gone rather quickly. The Gladiator was a little surprised to see the blade master rush in with such determination and was even more surprised to see Zhirin leap through the air towards him.

Well…this is it. Zhirin arched his arm back and then brought forward at an amazing speed. Even more amazing though was that he let go of the sword. He flung it straight at the surprised behemoth. The Gladiator hadn’t expected that type of attack but was still able to parry the sword with his own blade. As the blade master landed on the ground he saw his blade bounce off of the massive blade of the Gladiator. This attack isn’t over yet. His sword was flying back towards him. In a swift motion he caught his blade and leapt forward. The Gladiator had stumbled back a little from the surprise, which gave Zhirin the perfect opportunity. He slashed low, his blade aimed at the behemoth’s right leg. The blade master felt the pressure on his hand as spikes that remained on his sword collided with the Gladiator’s leg. The damage was not enough to sever the leg but Zhirin had done what he had intended. So content was he, that he did not see the massive arm come after him.

It was a bittersweet moment as he was flung across the room. He could see that the behemoth would be severely slower now that its leg was in such a horrid condition. Zhirin rolled across the floor upon contact and made an attempt to stand. He used his sword fro support and found himself back on his feet in no time. His sword now looked almost as it had earlier. The effects of the Rue Slash were gone but the blade still radiated with a resonant blue hue. If he could have ran across the room and capitalized on the situation he would have, but his body was aching a little more than he liked. It was only subdual damage though and would soon be gone, yet it prevented him from moving. It would be up to Silk to take advantage of the situation.

Zhirin's attack was as beautiful as it was merciless, and as Silk saw the Gladiator's crippled state, he knew that now was the time to strike. Without wasting a moment, the Fist Fighter charged in and delivered a bone-crunching kick to the warrior's left knee cap, breaking it and effectively destroying the Gladiator's mobility. Following up with a roundhouse to the head, the Fist Fighter managed to stun the demon momentarily, but was warded away with several desperate swipes with his foe's nightmarish weapon. Fortunately, the damage was done, and the Gladiator's last sliver of hope was lost. Without any movement capabilities to speak of, the gargantuan demon was now as harmless as a bit of mad grass in a fire field, and Silk and Zhirin delivered the final blow.

"Juk Kruz! Rai Rom!"

The chamber exploded with elemental energy, and the Gladiator's last screams echoed out into the forest above. Finally, the pair of warriors were allowed time to rest, recuperate, and gather their wits. So far their venture had given them little time for Repths, and now Silk wasted no time in casting one, sighing as the healing energies mended him like new, leaving the skin unopened and ready to withstand another beating. If things went well, he would not get another of those. Things never went well.

Now that he had the time, the Fist Fighter began to survey the chamber that they had inadvertantly entered, which was now amply lighted by strange green panels upon the walls. Somehow, upon the death of the Gladiator, these panels had been activated, and Silk could see the chamber in its entirety -- although there was not much to see. The room was made from blocks of granite, and three pillars stood in its own respective corner of the square chamber. One had been reduced to rubble due to some previous scuffle that Silk could not fathom, for this room was older than comprehension. Cracks criss-crossed in a drunken fashion across the tiled granite, and Silk could see some brand new ones caused by their recent battle with the Gladiator. As for the ceiling, a large chunk had crumbled beneath their weight, allowing leaves to scatter the floor with their counterparts, the pine needles. What remained of the ceilng was ready to collapse as well, and it seemed to Silk as if a hearty sneeze would finish off the rest. Besides the pillars, the room was unadorned, save for three openings, one in each wall save for one. Each opening was square at the bottom, but rose upward to form a smooth arc and there was no door to speak of. Yet this did not stop the opening from obscuring whatever lay within, for darkness like a curtain kept the eye at bay.

Their backs to the only wall without a door, the pair began a debate as to which door they should take. Zhirin was indifferent, asserting that any choice was a good choice, as no single door was any different from its counterparts, and in fact, save for miniscule cracks, they were identical. Silk, on the other hand, had a massive inclination to take the right door, and he did not know where this urge had come from. Irresistibly, the Fist Fighter was drawn to this door, and so they took the right passageway, as it turned out to be once they had entered. Green panels like those in the chamber that they had just left came alight as a welcome, and they revealed a granite passage which ended in a door not unlike the one they had just entered from.

The pair strode forward easily enough, but Zhirin had begun to feel quite uneasy in this place. Silk, who was usually the more skittish of the pair, however, began to feel almost at home in these ancient passages. Zhirin did not mention this to his companion and opted to remain silent of these observations. As for Silk, he was not paying any attention. so enraptured with this dungeon was he. Confidently, he strode through the door and into the next chamber.

Again, the green panels provided the lighting in the chamber, revealing one identical to the last, save for the inhabitant. A Grand Mage met them, wielding an enormous scepter that literally exploded with flaming energy. Velvet robes adorned this sorceror, and upon those robes were inscribed runic symbols in gold. Underneath the robes he wore steel plate, lavishly inlaid with all sorts of elegant swirls and scrollwork. Finally, the Mage wore a helm which hid his face save for burning green eyes, not unlike the Gladiator that they had just defeated.

Silk knew already that defeating this wizard would be far more difficult than the Gladiator, but he was unafraid. He was invincible, he knew. Nothing could hurt him.

Something in the back of his mind told him that this was not true, but he did not listen.

As the smoke cleared from the Vak Kruz and the electrical discharge from the Rai Rom fizzled out of existence, Zhirin could see that the Gladiator was no more. Both he and Silk had defeated such an ominous foe and for that he was glad. He was even more glad that they could now take a breather, yet for a moment he was worried. The walls surrounding them began to glow with a green light that resembled the glow in the fallen foe’s eyes. He was thankful to see that the light was just that, a light. They both healed what wounds they had and rested for their stamina and skill points to fully recover. Once they were both ready to continue they moved towards the center of the room. There were apparently three paths that they could take. Every wall except for one had an archway which acted as a door.

Moments later they began walking towards the archway on the right. Zhirin had told Silk that to him it really didn’t matter because every archway seemed identical to the others. Even so Silk continuously stated that they should go to the right. The blade master had agreed because in reality he had left the choice up to his friend. As they stepped through the arch they were able to see what was beyond. Before, a layer of darkness had obstructed their view, but now they were able to see that long corridor lay ahead. It seemed as though the dungeon itself was encouraging them forward. Every step that they took in the corridor illuminated another glyph on the wall which in turn gave the passageway a green glow. Slowly the blue aura that enveloped the blade master faded as the effects of the Ap Ruem withered away.

The longer they walked through the cacophonously lit corridor the more Zhirin felt uneasy. It was strange really, in his mind he knew that he had no reason to feel uncomfortable yet he did. He tried to tell himself that it was merely the glyphs on the walls that were making feel anxious yet deep down he knew that there was something else. He glanced at Silk to see if he was feeling the same but saw that there was strange sense of confidence making its way across his face. It was as though every step forward took him one step closer to home. Zhirin could not understand why his friend would feel that way in such a dungeon and it bothered him. Despite his yearning to question his friend as to what was going on, he kept quiet. He continued to tell himself that he was just being paranoid but there was that pressure in that back of his mind that told him to run.

To Zhirin and his perturbed mind, it was as though the corridor would never end. Every now and then he would turn nervously and look over his shoulder. He expected something to lash out at him but that something never came. Whenever he looked back he only saw the green glyphs and the corridor that was illuminated by them. The more he walked the worse he felt yet every time he looked at Silk, he could he that the Fist Fighter was guided with an unknown confidence. Zhirin looked forward but his eyes blurred, he felt as though his mind was being consumed by an ill-omened force. Suddenly it was gone. He looked back one more time but as he did so he noticed something around Silk. What the hell was that? Rapidly he looked over to his friend only to find that nothing besides the growing buoyancy was out of place. For a moment though he thought that he had seen an aura encircling the Fist Fighter. He kept an eye on Silk but nothing happened. Abruptly they met the end of the corridor and stood before an archway not at all different from the one that lay at the other end of the corridor. Silk strode forward confidently and Zhirin followed in right after him, though he had a harder time striding forward.

A room similar to one that they had left behind awaited them. Even the glyphs seemed to be the same as in the last room. The only major difference seemed to be the one who dwelled the chamber. A Grand Mage stood not that far ahead of them, he kept a close vigilance on them as they walked into the room. Zhirin had seen a Grand Mage before but it had been different than this one. Unlike the other, this sorcerer donned a helmet which hid everything but his eyes from view. Those eyes glimmered with the same green light that the Gladiator’s eyes had. Whether that was a good sign or not was yet to be determined. For the moment Zhirin could not remove his eyes from the scepter that the Grand Mage held. It was rather hefty but that really was no concern. The flames that consumed the uppermost portion of the scepter, on the other hand, were something to be concerned with.

Zhirin made an attempt to separate himself and move a little to the left but stopped when he noticed that the flaming rod was being aimed at him. For a moment he just stood there. There were a few options he could take, neither of which seemed very favorable towards his health. He continued to stare at the flames as he tried to find a way to attack the wizard. For a second he felt as though the flames were beckoning for him to draw nearer. With a shake of his head, the blade master dismissed the hypnotizing plea of the flames. His right hand slowly made its way towards the hilt of his sword while the sorcerer’s grip tightened around the wand. He looked over towards the Fist Fighter and saw that he too was ready to attack. Zhirin again noticed that poised look on Silk’s face and wondered whether he was aware of how powerful a Grand Mage truly was.

Might as well. Zhirin leapt to the side and drew his sword. As he expected, the Grand Mage made its move. Two flames shot out from the scepter. They were both entwined amongst each other and as they came nearer they separated. One directed towards Zhirin while the other hurled itself at Silk. The blade master dove to side in order to avoid the flame. He was barely able to avoid the explosion the ensued but when he looked back over towards the wizard he saw more flames lashing out towards him. Repeatedly he leapt, rolled, and ran in order to avoid the inferno that was being hurled at him. At this rate he would be dead in a manner of minutes. He only wished that he could see how his friend was faring, yet between the flames and smoke, that was not possible.

Every now and then he was able to save his life by swatting away a flame with his blade but most of the time he was fleeing. Suddenly an idea came to mind. He also had a magical attack that didn’t require him to be face to face with his opponent. As he ran, Zhirin gathered the skill points necessary for a Rai Rom in his clenched fist. He halted abruptly and hurled the energy at the wizard. As he had expected, the wizard tried to counter the spell with a set of flames. The spectacle that followed was truly a sight to see. A cyclone of fire and thunder whirled about the room. If he and Silk made the right moves they could get rid of the wizard when the distraction died down. For now though, Zhirin moved away from the cyclone at full speed. The farther he was, the safer he felt. Even as he ran he once again gathered energy for another Rai Rom. He wanted to keep the wizard distracted long enough for him and Silk to draw near. As cyclone died down, the blade master hurled another one at the sorcerer. This time it managed to get closer before erupting into a convulsion of fire and electricity. For a second he was glad but he then realized why it been able to get nearer to the wizard. Before stopping the Rai Rom, the Grand Mage had shot off a Vak Kruz at Zhirin that had arched around the room.

In an act of desperation Zhirin tried to block the spell with his sword but it was to no avail. The explosion that followed sent him soaring across the room and towards the wall. His body crashed against the blocks of granite that made up the structure. He fell to the floor but tried to push himself back up. Despite the ache of his battered body and the sear of the newly added burns he managed to get back on his feet.

The attack from the Grand Mage was truly awesome to behold. The swirling fireball separated in a flash, one coming for Zhirin, the other for Silk. Undoubtedly, this spell would incinerate him if he allowed it to make contact with him, but this did not shake his determination for an instant. Instead of running, like he saw his more than prudent ally doing, he planted his feet and stood his ground, much like a drunken fool. This Vak Kruz would cause him no pain, he felt, and so there he was, legs spread wide and fists clenched into tight balls of mixed emotions. Not one step back.

The inferno that was only a half of a Vak Kruz came arcing toward the stalwart Fist Fighter who on his face wore a mask of grim fearlessness. Shadows danced across the room as the fireball came into its form, shooting out darkness as well as light, and along with it, its blood-boiling heat. By now, dodging was not an option. As if he had a death wish, the Fist Fighter drew back his arm and tensed his entire body, clenching the hand into a tight fist. Then, taking one step forward then using all the torque in his waist, the Fist Fighter punched the air directly in front of the fireball, a split-second before he was turned into a human torch. He was counting on a lot, but when you're betting your life, why not take a few chances, right? His current suicidal tendencies would insure his death, sooner rather than later.

The wind generated by his mighty punch had managed to weaken the fireball, but the spell burned into his shoulder blade and back with frightening strength, searing his armor and skin. It was a glancing blow, though, and Silk was able to stay afoot, if nothing else. Meanwhile, his whole right sleeve had been seared to dust, as had most of the clothing on his back, yet he exulted in his power. He could not really think of anyone else that could have accomplished the feat, but then his reasonable side slammed the cold truth into his stupid and seemingly suicidal side. His stunt had accomplished absolutely nothing.

Not only had he failed to take the opening that his maneuver had given him, but now he had left himself wide open to the next attack, which was hurtling towards him with grim accuracy. This time, he dodged. Like a squirrel from a dog, the Fist Fighter dove to the right, narrowling avoidin the attack. Unlike Silk and fortunately for their overall survival, Zhirin had managed to fire off a Rai Rom, a powerful lightning spell that would undoubtedly cause the Grand Mage copious amounts of pain. Yet the lightning tornado had managed to get itself trapped in a Vak Kruz, and seconds later, Zhirin was smashed by another Vak Kruz while attempting to pull off the same stunt that Silk had earlier. He was not so fortunate, but Silk felt a thrill of glee go up his spine. Zhirin couldn't do it and he could! He felt like he was on top of the world. Of course he felt bad for his companion, but that was the risk they all took in this game, and what could he have done for him anyways?

He had a job to complete, and he would not let his friend's sacrifice go in vain. Gathering momentum, the Fist Fighter dashed forward and closed the gap between the two in an instant, and without pause, he slammed his fists into the monster's head, using a quick triple punch combo. Next he used a quick double kick, right, then left. Finally he put the icing on the cake with a sweeping roundhouse that sent the Grand Mage sprawling backwards, but not enough. With frightening agility, the sorceror was up on his feet and swinging his Scepter like a club, and it connected with the foolish Silk's chest and sent him hurtling through the air. His trip came to an abrupt and painful halt not feet from where Zhirin was slowly stumbling to his feet from his earlier encounter with the Vak Kruz.

As he tried and gathered the purple blots and toss them into his peripheral vision, he watched as Zhirin's hand stretched out to help him to his feet, but this action could have proved fatal, as the Grand Mage had proven to be a dishonorable whelp and was now firing yet another Vak Kruz to make their combined dooms. Silk's eyes widened, and he attempted to scream and throw Zhirin out of the way, but he could barely move in the first place, and his scream came out as a wracking cough. Their fate was in Zhirin's hands, but how could he know about their impending doom? The only way was if he had seen the flames in his eyes.

It seemed as though Silk had indeed taken the opportunity and attacked. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to get rid of the Grand Mage in that time. Despite the series of blows that Silk landed, he had still been unable to halt the sorcerer. The wizard had even been able to retaliate with an attack that sent the Fist Fighter soaring through the air. Zhirin stumbled forward as the body of his friend tumbled towards him. He extended his left hand towards his fallen friend. As he did so, he saw a bright light reflecting off of the Silver Bracer that rested on his left forearm.

Zhirin sighed as he realized what the light was. Obviously the Grand Mage had shot off yet another Vak Kruz towards the duo in hopes of destroying them both. Don’t any of these damn creatures have a sense of honor any more? Zhirin knew that there really was only one thing that he could do to save both himself and Silk. With a sudden burst of adrenaline he gripped his sword tightly while calling out his favorite attack, Rue Slash. His sword burst with a deep blue magical energy as he swung his blade towards the flaming sphere that was hurling towards them.

The water based sword swipe destroyed the oncoming ball of fire. Suddenly something gripped at Zhirin’s mind. It was that same uneasiness that he had felt when he had walked down the hall with Silk. This time though something in his mind snapped under the pressure of that anxiety. His vision blurred but when it returned to normal, mere seconds after, he was overcome by an unprecedented ire. The sheer volume of his anger forced him to leap forward towards the surprised wizard. With a thrust of its staff, the Grand Mage was able to hurl one more sphere of flames towards the raging blade master. Unfortunately for the Grand Mage, Zhirin’s sword still held some power from his attack and he was able swat the flame to the side with another swipe of his sword. It took very little time before he was standing in front of the now frightened wizard. In an attempt to save itself, it swung at him with the flaming scepter but it was no use. Disregarding the pain that would ensue, Zhirin stopped the staff by gripping the uppermost section tightly. The flames sprouted onto his hand while searing his flesh, but at the moment he honestly didn’t care.

Despite the pain the blade master was able to speak clearly. “You annoy me,” were the words that escaped his mouth in a surprisingly calm voice. Yet his eyes burned with an anger that easily swept away the flames that were consuming his hand. He drove the hilt of his sword into the gut of the sorcerer and threw the wand to the side as soon as he felt the wizard’s grip slacken. Zhirin gripped the Grand Mage by the top of its helmet as it tried to kneel down in order to regain its breath. Again he drove the hilt of his sword into the abdomen of the sorcerer and pulled the creature up as it gasped. It was strange but he couldn’t really control his actions or what he said.

“Die, knowing that your existence has only been a nuisance for us to deal with,” the words pierced through the room even as Zhirin’s sword pierced through the chest of the Grand Mage. It was then, when he saw the green glow disappear from the eyes of the wizard and its body grow limp, that he regained control of himself. Without a word he dropped the body to the floor and sheathed his sword. As he turned he realized that his left hand was severely injured. Severe burns scarred the flesh up to his elbow. Feebly, he cast a Repth on himself and moved over towards Silk even as it took effect.

While the blue orbs of light appeared around his body and sank into his skin, he could see the look on his friend’s face. He didn’t know what to make of it. As the flesh mended he turned his gaze towards the ground. It was hard for him to accept that he had lost control in such a manner. He could have gotten himself and his friend killed in such a reckless stunt. Again he cast another Repth on himself to finish the healing that the other one had left unfinished. When all of his wounds had healed he sat down. He examined the room, though he didn’t know why. There wasn’t much for him to see. It was almost the same as the last one. Suddenly he began to feel uneasy again. What is doing this to me? I don’t understand.

After his skill points had recovered and once he felt like getting up, he stood. So far he had avoided looking at Silk. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to contain that fit of rage. Even so, he knew that there was something besides him that had contributed to it, yet he still fully blamed himself for his loss of control. His actions were his own responsibility regardless of any other influence. If he was indeed swayed by another being or force, then it was his fault for not being strong enough to stop it. He finally looked over to his friend and spoke.

“I apologize for my lapse in control. I do not know what happened. This place is just getting to me. There is something out of place here and I don’t like it. It is making me nervous but I won’t let something like that happen again,” he had finally mentioned that he was not content with the dungeon. He didn’t expect an answer and so he turned. What had happened was now in the past and they could only move forward. He only hoped that what had taken place wouldn’t do so again. Even as he thought of what to say next a chill worked its way up his spine. He had hoped that his discomfort would go away but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen anytime soon. With a sigh he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. To his surprise it actually made him feel a little better.

Zhirin rested his right hand on the hilt of his word and moved a little to the right. He surveyed what options they had available and shrugged. The options that they had weren’t that many but at least they didn’t hit a dead end. The eerie green glow of the room tried to seep into his mind but he merely took another deep breath and let the anxieties wash away as he exhaled. It seemed as though making it out of the dungeon, or even going deeper into it, would take a lot of will power and determination. The blade master knew that he had both and looked back at his friend. He was thankful that he wasn’t in the dungeon alone. At least he a friend that he could rely on.

Silk screwed his eyes shut tightly, as if not seeing his doom would prevent it. Zhirin was not so gripped by inaction, however, and Silk heard rather than saw his plan of defense.

"Rue Slash."

The shining sword came afire with blue light, then froze into icy shards like before, and Zhirin pivoted on his leg and brought his sword around in a vicious arc, obliterating the Vak Kruz and thereby saving their skins. For an instant, Silk watched as Zhirin seemed to be frozen in place, his eyes shut and his body going limp, but before he could do anything to help, the Blademaster had disappeared. In his place stood a man filled with more anger than Silk had seen in a long time, and he could never have suspected the normally calm warrior to be even capable of such magnitudes of pure rage. His fury was beyond reaching, and nothing Silk could say could possibly hold him back, but the Fist Fighter could see how this new anger could be advantageous, for now at least. The Grand Mage would melt away like snow in the rain before the Blademaster's anger-driven onslaught, for Silk could easily see how Zhirin now had more power than the both of them put together. In the Grand Mage's defense, he did not go down without a fight. Pulling up all the energy he could muster, the Grand Mage fired off a Vak Kruz, but this one was swiped aside by another ferocious arc from the Blademaster, and that was all the time he needed to be right on top of the sorceror. Even in the face of certain death, the Grand Mage attempted to ward off the furious Blademaster with a few melee attacks using the fire-elemented scepter he possessed, but to no avail. Zhirin was just too powerful, and the wizard stood no chance. The Blademaster plunged his sword into the defenseless mage, and that was the end of the fearsome warrior.

"Die, knowing that your existence has only been a nuisance for us to deal with."

Silk did not know how he felt about this last statement, but he knew that Zhirin was not himself, and that they should hurry up and get to the Gott and then gate out of this mess. He realized that he still had not gotten up, and that his entire body was still mostly out of commission. A Repth was in order. Exhaling softly as the blue orbs melted into his wounds, the Fist Fighter let himself go to oblivion while the wounds were mended. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet. He was tired. Tired in his mind, not in his mind, for his arms and legs and chest were more than able to take on two more Grand Mages, but his mind was not sharp. They had better find the end of this place soon, for if this kept up, neither of them would survive.

"I apologize for my lapse in control. I do not know what happened. This place is just getting to me. There is something out of place here and I don?t like it. It is making me nervous but I won?t let something like that happen again," said Zhirin, a bit shakily. He had just about regained his composure, however, and Silk could probably count on him in the event of another battle. Unconsciously, Silk put his hand in his pocket and gripped the little amulet-type item that he had discovered so long ago. It felt heavy, and a bit warm. Silk shrugged and dismissed it. More likely than not, it was just that way from the continual Vak Kruz Fireballs that had been fired at him.

By then, Zhirin had patched himself up pretty well, and they were ready to depart. With an insignificant nod, they departed down the only door that was available, save for the one that they had entered. Again, they were led into a long passageway, but this one turned abruptly at the end, and continued onwards to yet another door. This door, however, opened up into a great hall, one that was tremendous in every way. Unlike most of the other rooms, this one seemed to be a bit less than mind-bogglingly ancient, and there even was a seemingly well-kept table in the center, which was very, very long and looked able to seat as many as a hundred people. The ceiling arched upwards into darkness, while along the walls there stood the same green panels, but strangely enough, there also stood empty sconces in the walls, but none of them held torches. As for the floor, it was the same stone as the other rooms.

Meanwhile, Silk could detect no presence of any monters, or the passage of any monsters. Not wanting to spend any more time in here than he must, he hurried randomly (or so he thought) to one of the many doors in the walls. "This one, Zhirin," he whispered, although he did not know why. Through the door they went, and as they left the grand hall, they saw the green panels die down again, while the panels before them came alight. Quickly, they strode down the corridor into another room, this one identical to the first and second, save for the monster. This time, the dungeon had pitted them against a trio of demons, three sled dogs. Much like huskies, these three canines were made of pure muscle, and their slavering jaws could rip off a man's arm. Unlike a huskie, these dogs were also four feet high. These rooms were getting harder and harder.

Both he and Silk walked through the only other doorway in the room. It led them to another corridor but before they were too deep in Zhirin began feeling uneasy once more. He looked around and saw nothing. His right hand still rested casually on the hilt of his sword. I wish that I could put this feeling away as easily as I can sheathe my blade. Then a thought hit him. It was a little bizarre but it was still worth a shot. Why not? If this feeling of anxiety is in my mind then it should be possible for me to deal with it in my mind. He shook his head and smiled at the notion of what he had in mind but he did it anyways.

As he walked, Zhirin closed his eyes. He envisioned himself and an empty sheath. He tried to move but found that it was harder to imagine himself doing so than he thought it would be. The blade master focused on the anxiety that plagued him. With a few struggles he was able to picture it leaving his body and hovering in front of him. Now would come the difficult part of his plan. He forced the uneasiness, which had taken the shape of a dark mist, into the shape of a sword. It was difficult for him to maintain focus while walking but he managed. With a final strain, the sword of mental apprehension finished taking its form. Zhirin than forced himself to envision his right hand grasping the sword while his left hand grasped the sheath that had been laying before him. It took some effort but he forced the sword into the sheath.

Then he imagined two clasps appearing on the scabbard that he held in his hands. He fastened one on each side of the hand guard before setting the sword down. For a moment he considered leaving it as it was but he didn’t feel satisfied yet. He visualized a large white cloth materializing in front of him along with leather straps. Once he had wrapped the cloth around the sword he tightly held it in place with the leather straps. Finally he turned around and hurled the weapon into the recesses of his mind.

Zhirin opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He almost laughed out loud when he found that his little experiment had actually been successful. The blade master walked happily along the corridor as he saw that nothing made him nervous. The spine-chilling green glow of the glyphs that ran along the walls no longer made him feel ill at ease. Now the glyphs only appeared to him as a method of providing light to the murky dungeon. It wasn’t long before he noticed that they had reached the end of the corridor. They stepped into a rather large room that appeared to some type of dining room. At the center of the room there lay a rather long table that could easily accommodate one hundred people. Silk went about the room but Zhirin could only imagine as to why. For a few moments he stood in silence just looking around at what little objects were about the room.

Moments later he heard Silk tell him that he had found a door to go through. The blade master turned and walked over to where his friend stood. As the Fist Fighter walked through the door, Zhirin merely looked back and shrugged before following. Once again they stepped into a corridor but as they did so, the lights behind them faded. Then the glyphs along the walls of the corridor came ablaze with the green light that he had now grown accustomed to. He wondered if the light was actually following them. All this time he had believed that the glyphs lit up when they passed by them, but now he began to wonder about the green glow. If it was following them as he was now suspecting in the back of his mind, then there had to be something keeping an eye on him. He dismissed the notion as they came to the end of the corridor.

As they walked into the room, the panels along the walls lit up. Zhirin sighed as he saw that there was another impending danger in the chamber. A trio of sled dogs awaited them eagerly. These dogs were definitely different than any other sled dogs. For one they were much bigger and for another they appeared as though they demons in disguise. The blade master didn’t wait for the dogs to attack them. He unsheathed his sword and moved the side. Surprisingly he was noticed that there was no anxious feeling in the back of his mind. He was just his ordinary self.

Zhirin wasn’t sure how the sled dogs would separate. Two could attack him while the other attacked Silk or vice versa. The blade master looked over to Silk and nodded. He had something in mind and he hoped Silk thought the same. Zhirin dashed forward towards trio and was glad to see that Silk was doing the same. They were both attacking from a different angle and with a little luck the trio of dogs would stumble over themselves while attempting to stop them. Zhirin chose to go with a low thrust as he drew nearer to the dogs. Unfortunately the sled dog that he had hoped to injure moved out of the way. Still, he wasn’t quite done. The dog had moved away from the blade, that was true, but it had not moved away from his range of attack. Zhirin swung his left leg around, bringing it straight in to the side of the dog’s head. It staggered back and shook its head vigorously.

Not much later the fight had become a severe brawl. All of them were relatively close to each other and if someone had looking at their battle from the sidelines, it would have been difficult to tell what was going on. The blade master already had bites and scratches on his arms and legs while the dogs held sword wounds along with severe bruises from the Fist Fighter. Suddenly he was tackled from the side. He tumbled to the floor but was back on his feet instantly. Zhirin wasn’t about to let Silk take on the entire trio by himself. He rushed back into the fray without a second thought. Even though the dogs lashed out at his neck every now and then he never thought about turning around and running. Zhirin was going to stay there until those dogs were pummeled into oblivion.

Zhirin led the charge, his sword lying low in readiness for a low thrust. Sweeping in a wide angle, Silk sprinted across and around, so that the pair would hit together in a cataclysmic impact, two devastating forces from two angles. Like lightning, the pair struck. Silk's first attack was a strong Kiwami, the first attack hitting one of the Sled Dogs in the gut, the other smacking the jaw of a different hound. Zhirin had managed to get off a kick on the jaw of another hound, but that was all he could gather before he was swept away by the raking claws of one of the Sled Dogs. Before long, the entire affair had become a massive singular brawl with everyone punching, kicking, and a bit of slashing, but at such close quarters, Zhirin's sword was next to useless. Already, Silk had received several large gashes down his back, but he gave more than he got, or so he hoped. Again and again, he sent one of the dogs squealing away, whining piteously but only to be met by another of the dog's slavering jaws. The fight lasted for some time, wounds being received all around, but Silk saw that the battle was slowly coming around their way. With another brutal roundhouse, Silk dispatched of one of the dogs, knocking out the resilient hound fully, and moments later, Zhirin had managed to impale his opponent upon his weapon, thus killing him rather gruesomely. Rather than fight, the last Sled Dog, seeing his companions totally vanquished, sprinted away, his tail between his legs. Silk was too weary to go and chase the dog, however, and even if he wasn't so dead tired, he knew that the dog could outrun him with ease.

"How are ya feelin', Zhirin?" asked Silk, his voice quavering just slightly.
"Never better," came his reply.
Silk nodded, then -- "Good, but we've got to find a way out of here. These endless identical rooms are getting us nowhere, there's got to be some stairs that lead down to the next floor. But where?" There wasn't that Zhirin could contribute, and it wasn't like Silk thought that he would come up with some brilliant suggestion. In fact, he only ellicited the conversation to ease the tension building up in his friend, though he did not know what caused his unease. Yet he also noticed that his friend was not doing so bad, and in fact, he seemed to have made a full recovery from his brief abnormality. Whether it had actually been there or whether it was Zhirin just making up things, it was gone now, and that was all that matter.

"Die, knowing that your existence has only been a nuisance for us to deal with."

Zhirin's words cut through his mind as he remembered them, spoken only moments before. Silk did not know that Zhirin was even capable of taunting in jest, but there he was, his final words to his opponent dripping acid. Silk shook his head, wondering what could have possibly happened to his friend during the time that they were not together. Whatever it was, it had changed the Blademaster, and perhaps not for the better. Silk's thoughts shifted from the past to the present, and he got up and began to look around their room. As it turned out, this room was a dead-end, no doors or openings leading anywhere, so Silk and Zhirin turned from the hounds' den back into the grand hall that they had left. No signs of the fleeing hound could be detected, but the smell of him was barely discernable in the air. There still wasn't much to see in this room, except for dozens of doors leading out, any of them possibly being the way to the second level of the dungeon.

"Many doors lead to this room," spoke Zhirin thoughtfully, pointing out the obvious.
"I hope you're going somewhere with this," returned Silk caustically.
But his jibe fell on deaf ears, for the Blademaster was still thinking. "Could it be that this is the room where the passage downward is kept? So many doors lead here... undoubtedly that means that in this room lies something important." Silk's head whipped around to stare at Zhirin. Yes! That was it, Zhirin was a genius! But where could they find the entrance?

Silk immediately began to scrutinize the room, this time being very copious with details. The ceilng was indiscernable, but upon the walls were the glyphs. As for the floor, only stone tiles could be found. On the walls there were also those sconces for torches that held nothing, but upon an isolated one, there was actually a torch inside, but it looked to be rotten and nearing the end of its existence. Still, the Fist Fighter attempted to pull it, or take it out, hoping that perhaps that was a secret lever, but to no avail. They searched the entire room from bottom to top, but they could not find anything even slightly resembling an entrance. In a fit of rage and frustration, the Fist Fighter knocked over the table and all the chairs, desperately trying to find the entrance to the next floor. With totally reckless abandon, he fired a Vak Kruz into the ceiling, and this turned out to be the Holy Grail of their searches. The fire spell exploded upon the ceiling, raining down fire and forcing the pair to take cover. Then, a random flaming cinder hit the single torch on the wall, causing it to burst into flame, and that's when the trapdoor in the middle of the room opened. Silk was totally dumbfounded. He knew he had been over that spot a dozen times, but he had not even had the slightest inkling of a trapdoor there, the sides were completely seamless. As for the torch, he did not even want to think about how long they could have been searching had it not been for his errant Vak Kruz.

He looked up at Zhirin sheepishly, saying, "Well... there's our entrance."
"Yeah... Let's go down," came the reply.

The blade master had been rather fortunate that one of the sled dogs had impaled itself on his blade. With that one dead there was only one left. It stared at Silk and then at Zhirin for a moment before running away with its tail between its legs and whimpering the whole time. Neither he nor Silk felt like giving chase to the canine and so they let it escape. Silk asked him how he was feeling but he responded by merely stating that he had never been better. As they looked around the room but found that it was sadly, a dead end. Both or them returned to the previous room where the table lay and looked around some more. There were so many doors, so many possible paths that they could take. Why so many doors in this room? Wait…could that be it.

“Many doors lead to this room," the words came out of his mouth almost subconsciously, which made it appear as though he was just stating the obvious. Even as he realized that he had spoken he thought he heard Silk say, “I hope you’re going somewhere with this.” He didn’t pay much attention though and continued speaking out loud, however it was mostly to himself, "Could it be that this is the room where the passage downward is kept? So many doors lead here... undoubtedly that means that in this room lies something important." As he raised his head to see if Silk had heard what he had said, he saw that his friend had begun to search about the room.

Both of them searched frantically throughout the room. They had been there before and hadn’t noticed anything unusual but maybe if they looked closer they would see something that they had missed before. The blade master looked over to see of the Fist Fighter had spotted anything but saw that he was merely tugging at a dilapidated torch. Well I guess that isn’t it. Zhirin turned back and continued searching through the empty alcoves where torches should be. He had hoped that there would be a switch or lever inside one of the niches but he ended up empty handed. It wasn’t long before desperation began to sink into their minds. There just had to be some hidden passage in that room that they hadn’t noticed before, there just had to.

Suddenly he heard some of the chairs being thrown aside. He turned and saw that Silk had grown a little agitated. Zhirin merely smiled as his friend continued to throw around other chairs, and finally, the table. Hopefully the stairs to the lower level would be concealed under the table. When the dust settled they both saw that there was nothing there besides the stone floor. The blade master shrugged and looked over to Silk once more. He gasped when he saw that his friend was firing a Vak Kruz at the ceiling. Zhirin almost ran for cover as flames and debris showered down on them. He was about to scold the Fist Fighter for nearly killing them when he noticed that one of the flames had lit the torch.

There was suddenly a noise, a portion of the ground slid open to their dismay. Of course! How could we have been so stupid? Zhirin thought as the secret passage made its presence known. “Well…there’s our entrance,” he heard Silk say. “Yeah…Let’s go down,” he couldn’t help but say. Silk went down first and as Zhirin was about to he noticed something. He looked over at the torch and noticed that the color of its flame had abruptly become the same eerie green as the light that came from the glyphs. He took that as a sign that they might be needing that torch. The blade maser walked over to it, picked it up, and made his way down the steps.

Not much later they came to the end of the staircase. They were before a rather large archway. Somewhere along the way down, the stairs had widened. As Zhirin looked at the torch in his hand an image suddenly popped into his mind. It was him, but he was sitting in a small chamber. There was a light coming from a torch off in the corner of the room. He stared at it for a moment as he sat in the ragged cloth that served as a bed. It was then that he realized that he was remembering the cell that he had been put in when he was taken prisoner. It wasn’t a gloomy thought, it hadn’t bothered him at all, but why he was remembering that off all things was something he couldn’t know. The only logical explanation was that there was impending danger ahead of them.

Zhirin had noticed along their way down the stairs that there had been little to no glyphs on the walls. Hardly the only light that there was, was the one that radiated from the torch that he held in his hand. He took a step forward and noticed that there was another torch on the side of the archway, although it wasn’t lit. The notion of lighting it with the torch he held came into his mind but he dismissed it as he saw a niche on the other side of the doorway. It appeared as though it was a place holder for another torch. Zhirin shrugged and set the torch down in the placeholder. Suddenly the other way came ablaze with the same green light. The room ahead of them had been pitch black until now. The walls lit up with glyphs lit up just like the ones in the upper level. Off in the end of the room Zhirin could make something out. It was rather large but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. More importantly though, he couldn’t tell whether it was friend or foe.

Silk had already charged ahead, without really thinking of any sort of consequences that could result. Downstairs, the place was dark, but not dark enough for Zhirin to make out a pair of sconces in the walls, one empty, but another occupied. Lucky for them, the Blademaster had brought along a torch for just such an occassion, but instead of lighting the second torch, he simply placed the other in the empty sconce. Judging by the nature of this dungeon, it was brilliant, and it turned out to be just so, in more than one way. The torches presence seemed to have triggered the green panels in the next room, but inside of the room was something big. From where he stood, Silk could not exactly make out what it was, but it seemed to possess a good many arms, legs, and other parts, and he wasn't sure whether confrontation with whatever that was was a good idea. Yet did they have another choice? No.

The pair entered simultaneously, revealing themselves to whatever demon that was. Zhirin drew his sword, while Silk dropped down into a offensive stance, waiting for the silhouette to react. Suddenly, it seemed to have detected their presence, for previously, it had been jerking around in a quite confused manner.

"Man am I glad you guys showed up!" came a cry, which totally dumbfounded the Fist Fighter and Blademaster alike. "Woowoo! I told you someone would show up!" Silk simply stared as a young female twinblade dressed in one of those Sailor Moon outfits dashed up excitedly. Her eyes were big and expressive, and also brown, while her body possessed a petite, lithe form. Meanwhile, her hair was pleated into dual braids down her back, and she appeared to be on a level with Silk's chin. Abruptly, she came to a halt directly in front of the Fist Fighter and extended a hand, the rest of her becoming very rigid.

Bewildered, Silk took the hand, which the twinblade shook very vigorously, then did the same to Zhirin. Meanwhile, the remainder of the silhouette came forward and revealed itself to be two separate people, one of them a Heavyblade, the other, an Archer. Both were male, and if it came to confrontation, Silk realized that they were outgunned. The archer alone could probably take on Silk by himself, while the other two would be more than a match for Zhirin unaided. Realizing this, Silk put on his most amiable face and began to shake hands all around.

As he approached the Heavyblade, he saw that he was just a barely taller than himself, and that he had reddish brown hair. His eyes were blue, but not piercingly so, and he had a strong nose, along with an altogether jolly demeanor As for clothes, he wore a clanking suit of Grand Armor, which was a full body suit that covered him from collarbone-to-toe. They shook hands genially enough, but Silk still did not trust any of them fully. Of course, he was not stupid enought to let it show, and he knew Zhirin would do the same.

The Archer was not nearly as sociable as his two companions, and he wore a blank, unreadable expression while shaking Silk's hand. He was a black-haired youth he was more or less the same height as the Fist Fighter, and he had deep brown eyes. His clothes consisted of some forest green Hiking Gear along with a pair of knee-high Jungle Boots. On his arms he wore Silver Bracers, just like Zhirin, and his head had a Nomad's Hood for protection. All-in-all they were a very strong-seeming bunch, and Silk knew that getting on their good side was a priority.

He turned back to face the girl, who seemed to be the most talkative of the three, and asked, "So what brings you to this dungeon?"
"We're just dungeon-crawling for levels and the items at the Gott. We had found the secret entrance, but when we walked through, the trapdoor closed on us, and we couldn't see a thing!" Silk spun his head around and looked to the entrance and discovered it was true -- they were trapped. Or at least they couldn't get out the way they came. "We were pretty surprised when these green panels came on, but boy are we glad to see you. We couldn't see anything in that pitch blackness!"
"Well you'll have to thank my friend Zhirin for that, as for me, I didn't do much. By the way, I'm Silk and that, as I have said, is Zhirin." Introductions were in order, and the Twinblade turned out to be Larissa, while the Heavyblade and Archer were Nyren and Rix, respectively.

"Well then, shall we continue to the Gott?" asked the Twinblade at long last. Silk nodded, and they walked through the only door available, leading them into the next room.

Both Zhirin and Silk entered the room ready for battle. The blade master drew his sword while the Fist Fighter took an offensive stance. Zhirin almost fell to the floor when he heard the voice of an excited female. She revealed herself to be a twin blade that appeared to be a fan of an old anime show known as, “Sailor Moon“. She ran up to Silk and shook his hand vigorously. Zhirin watched her as she and her friend clasped hands. She was rather petite and was a bit smaller than them but her eyes seemed to convey much emotion. At they moment it appeared that they were showing a vast amount of joy. Zhirin looked back over to the silhouette and was surprised to see that a male heavy blade and a male archer had stepped forth.

As he looked at them he suddenly saw that the twin blade had worked her way over towards him and was now attempting to shake his hand. Zhirin smiled at her at and took her hand. He gave a soft yet sturdy handshake as he had been taught to do, when shaking a woman’s hand, in his business class. The heavy blade appeared to be a strong yet amicable fellow. He was draped in Grand Armor that covered him from his collarbone down to his toes. His hair was reddish brown while he eyes were blue. The archer was a little smaller than the heavy blade and he seemed less friendly. His black hair went well with his brown eyes but Zhirin could not tell what the archer was thinking. His face was rather blank, it appeared to lack any expression as he shook hands with both Silk and Zhirin. He wore a deep green attire of Hiking Gear and Jungle Boots.

All the while, Zhirin had been smiling, while he met the odd trio that was before them. His smile was light yet friendly. He didn’t want to over do it and show that he was merely putting on a façade but he didn’t want to show that he didn’t trust them. He also didn’t want to show no emotion at all and arouse suspicion just as the archer was doing. Silk questioned them as to why they were in the dungeon and the twin blade spoke on their behalf. She stated that they had been dungeon crawling but that the trap door had locked them in. Both he and Silk looked back and realized that there was some truth to that. Now they could not go travel back up through the same passage.

The twin blade stated that they had been having a hard time seeing until they showed up. Silk divulged that Zhirin was to one to blame for the glyphs lighting up and that they should thank him. At this he noticed the archer was staring at him. He merely smiled at the archer and turned his attention back to the twin blade. Silk introduced himself and then Zhirin. The twin blade turned out to be named Larissa while the heavy blade was named Nyren and the archer was Rix. They decided to join together to reach the Gott Statue but Zhirin had his doubts. As they walked out of the room he turned to see that Rix was standing to his right. Something about that archer just didn’t seem right to him. Of course most of what they said didn’t seem right. If they were lying then the twin blade sure was convincing.

As they walked Zhirin thought to himself on what he had just heard. There were some things that quite didn’t fit into place. They said that they were dungeon crawling and that they were trapped here. So I am supposed to believe that they are in just this place and they are just on a random adventure to kill some time. No. Silk and I fell from Dun Loireag, took a portal from a mysterious room, fell through the ceiling of the dungeon while being chased by who knows how many creatures, and took a secret passage to get to this room. And all they did was come to the dungeon on a random trip and get trapped by the secret door? That just doesn’t ring true. Besides, it is not just like the door was there for all to see. We accidentally stumbled upon it when one of the stray flames from the Vak Kruz lit the torch. Wait…the torch! That torch was dilapidated and appeared as though it hadn’t been used in ages. If they came through that trap door as they claim then they would have had to light that torch. And if they had, then we would have noticed that it had been recently used. Zhirin turned towards the twin blade and smiled at her. He saw that the archer was narrowing his eyes at him from the corner of his eye. When he turned, the archer turned his head and looked straight ahead.

As they entered a rather vast hall Zhirin turned to the archer. He studied him for a bit and waited for the archer to notice that he was being stared at. When he turned, the blade master spoke to him, “So…how long have you been down here? A couple of hours at most I would presume?” He waited for waited for an answer but wasn’t even sure if the archer would bother.

Silk's mind was in turmoil as he walked with the strange menagarie of fighters that had by chance been assembled. Of course, he did not show his inner consternation to the warriors around, and his face was a constant visage of giddiness. Unlike Zhirin, he would attempt to pass himself off as a very energetic, happy, and jumpy young fighter, much like the Twinblade that accompanied them. Along with this effect, he would attempt to eminate an empty-headed character. So far, he thought he was doing well, especially by saying phrase like, "Woo!", "Yaaay!", and "Let's go!". Other habits he made were laughing too much, pointing out the obvious, and fidgeting incessantly. All in all, it was almost enjoyable to pass himself as an airhead, but he knew that his wits would have to be sharp, or else he might give away more than he desired.

As of yet, they had not met up with any monsters, but this would change shortly. Meanwhile, Silk began to ponder the circumstances: Silk and Zhirin had fallen from a land bridge on Dun Loireag and managed to land in a secret room with a portal, a portal that led to this field; three other fighters casually dungeon-crawling managed to find this exact same field, even though Silk would bet his life that no one else had been in that room under Dun Loireag; and he would not even get into everything with the torch. The pieces just did not fit. Yet did they have any choice but to accompany these warriors? The dungeon seemed to have decided to take a very singular form, being a single hallway with no branching doorways or passages, and if they back way was blocked. Fighting these warriors would be suicide, they were more than enough to overwhelm the pair, so really, all they could do was keep up this little act and hope for the best. Then again, maybe it was all true; maybe everything they said actually happened. Maybe the Admins would scoop Silk up and give him a billion levels.

So far, they had traveled down a stony hallway with the green panels on either side guiding their eyes and holding the darkness at bay. The passage was wide enough for two to walk abreast comfortably, and at the end, Silk could barely make out a doorway. When they reached it, the Heavyblade was the first to enter, and he strode boldly into the room, ready his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. The Twinblade was next to follow, and Silk kept up his giddy act by chasing after them, then saying, "Yay! Maybe there'll be monsters in this place!" And yes, there were monsters in this place. Exactly 15 of them.

Silk stared out at the array of Goblins in front of them, quite an amazing one, in fact. A Goblin Wiz, four Goblin Nights, and at least ten Hobgoblins stood in the room, each of them grinning devilishly at the fighters before them. All of them wielded an array of amazingly torturous-looking devices, ranging from scimitars to axes to daggers, and all of them wore copious amounts of armor, save for the Goblin Wiz, who wore black robes. Already, Silk could see how this fight looked a bit lopsided, but he did not voice his opinions outloud, but instead, said, "Wowee! Look at'em all!" This illicited a few odd looks from his accomplices, but Silk ignored them and thought, Now we'll get to see just how strong our new teammates are.

With that, the battle commenced, Larissa leading the charge, followed by Silk, Zhirin, and Nyren. Rix held back and began to fire a wide arc of arrows over their heads, softening up the ranks of goblins before they actually came together. The Fist Fighter was on top of a Hob Goblin in an instant, darting from side-to-side like a boxer. Mostly, Silk used hit-and-run tactics, punching one Hobgoblin, then dashing over to another before one of his companions could get behind him and stab him through the neck. The downside to this style of fighting was that he could not really get in a good combo, because he was constantly retreating backwards or dashing to face another foe. Luckily for them, Nyren the Heavyblade was laying waste to the Hobgoblins, while Zhirin and Larissa were all over everything, slashing and stabbing in a similar fashion to Silk's own hit-and-run. Meanwhile, Rix was raining Arrows down upon the entire affair, yet not once did he even come close to hitting any of them. This quickly came to a halt, as the Goblin Wiz took the Archer's full attention, and the magical battle that ensued was spectacular.

The melee fighters were doing well, but not without a price. Silk had already received a nasty gash on his right shoulder, followed by two down his back where he had gotten careless and allowed a Hobgoblin with dual scimitars to get too close. Yet all in all, he felt that the fight was going their way, and that these demons would soon come to an end. This positive outlooked took a quick one-eighty when a new threat emerged from a portal: a whole new host of Goblins. Silk had no time to assess their chances for survival, but he knew now that they were outnumbered at least 6 to 1. This was not good. Gritting his teeth, Silk knocked a Goblin Night to the floor with a roundhouse, then dashed forward to face the nearest Hobgoblin.

Inwardly Zhirin shook his head as he heard the antics of his friend. He would have blushed with embarrassment if that had been possible but he couldn’t. That type of emotion wasn’t set into the game. On the outside though, the blade master continued to show a friendly manner. Even after he had been brushed off rudely by the archer after he had asked a question. Zhirin had merely turned and listened as his friend put on quite a show. It took them no time at all to reach the end of the doorway but maybe that was due to the gibberish that both Silk and Larissa were saying. Upon reaching the end, Silk exclaimed at how he hoped that there were monsters waiting for them inside. Sadly, Silk’s wish came true.

There were fifteen goblins waiting for them as they entered. The Fist Fighter made a comment that forced all of them to look at him for a second before bringing their attention back the impending danger. Ten Hobgoblins, four Goblin Nights, and one Goblin Wiz. So far it didn’t look very good for them. Larissa charged in first, then Silk, followed by himself and Nyren. Rix stayed in the back and released arrow after arrow towards the squadron of goblins that lay before them. Zhirin could see that Rix was a fairly competent archer. He saw as a few goblins were hit by arrows and reeled back in pain.

Silk pulled off a little hit and run stunt while Nyren laid waste to those that didn’t pay attention and tried to chase after the Fist Fighter. Rix continued to pour arrows down upon the turmoil but he was not being as fortunate as before. Larissa and Zhirin teamed up as a duo and pulled off something similar to what Silk was doing, though they did it in unison. Silk would land a few punches to distract the creatures, Nyren would cleave his way through the room, Larissa and Zhirin would strike swiftly to those that had escaped Nyren, while Rix dispatched of those that remained.

The tides of the battle quickly changed though as the Goblin Wiz drew the archer. They both began to hurl whatever they possessed at each other. The room would light up brightly with series of magical spells and then die down as arrows pierced through the magic. Soon there were a little less than half of the original amount of goblins left, most of which were injured. Of course, the group of warriors were not without their injuries. All them were damaged, even Rix. The magical spells had taken a toll on the archer as the blades of the goblins had taken a toll on the warriors. Zhirin turned and saw that once more they would be tested; Their battle hadn’t even finished and yet a new one was about to start.

A portal opened which revealed a new wave of goblins. The blade master looked over to where Larissa stood. She was standing a mere two feet to his left and there was a look of utter horror on her face as goblin after goblin emerged. Her expressive eyes which were once so full of happiness now appeared as though they were ready to cry. Zhirin smiled as she took a step closer to him. Maybe they were just dungeon crawling? Nah…their story has too many lies for me to believe that. The blade master placed his left hand on her shoulder consolingly. She turned to look at him and her eyes appeared to say, “What the hell do we do now?” Zhirin realized that even if she was there for some hidden reason that she hadn’t wanted to reveal, she wasn’t that experienced in battle. Well at least not in battles that went horribly wrong.

He looked into her big brown eyes and answered the question that she hadn’t even asked. “We fight. Besides it could be worse,” he said with a smile. She nodded in agreement and raised her two blades with shaky hands. The blade master let go of her shoulder and gripped his sword with both hands. He cracked his neck and said, “Stay close to me. The odds of us surviving will be better if we stick together. Silk and Nyren might do the same, but I don’t know if they really need to. We need to make sure that no goblins get over towards Rix. He may just be our trump card,” without even turning to see her. The blade master heard her say, “I understand,” in a crackly voice. “Well then, c’mon. No use in waiting,” he said even as he dashed forward. Larissa gulped and followed him. She wasn’t too sure as to what to do but for some reason she had believed everything that he had said, especially the part about staying close to him. She really didn’t want to die.

Moments later the battle had truly become a sight to see. The warriors were tired but they still fought with all they had. Somewhere along the line, Rix had defeated the Goblin Wiz. Zhirin had only noticed because he had trampled the carcass while running through the room. The body had many bruises from others stepping on it along with a surprising amount of arrows. The most prominent one was the arrow that protruded from its forehead. Zhirin gave a slight nod back to Rix before he continued on with Larissa close behind. She still hadn’t completely gotten over the fact that they were outnumbered and that it seemed as though they were going to die but she kept close to blade master who seemed to be unconcerned about the disadvantage. How much longer the battle would last was hard to say. Either side could win within a matter of minutes, if the played their cards right.

The blade master looked around and saw that both Nyren and Silk were not doing so bad but then again he couldn’t really see that well with all the creatures that stood in the way. He was able to tell that so far, Rix had not been bothered by many goblins. There had been a few but those now lay a couple of feet away from him, with arrows sprouting from them like roots. As parried an axe he heard a scream behind him. He turned to see that Larissa had gotten herself surrounded because she had taken too long to catch up with him. Zhirin realized that even though she was a pretty good fighter, it wouldn’t take long before she was dead. With a vigorous shake of his head, he dashed forward at full speed. He had to avoid many blades and slash at many creatures before he could get near to where the twin blade stood. He hacked his way through the goblins and stood right next to her. In order to reach her he had to take many shots but he wasn’t too badly wounded. She had managed to protect herself, more or less, there were some slashes along her arms, legs, and back but it wasn’t too bad.

“I told you to stay close to me,” was all he said to her in a calm soothing tone. Normally he would have said something like, “See what happens when you don’t listen,” or shaken his head but he was still trying to appear as a friendlier person than he truly was. Zhirin suddenly spun around and swung his sword horizontally. The unfortunate goblin that had tried to sneak up on him suddenly found himself without a head. Larissa gasped as other goblins drew near. “Let’s have some fun eh?” he said to Larissa as the goblins came near. “This isn’t the time to say such things you know,” she retorted. Zhirin looked around and positioned himself where the majority of the goblins were coming. With a smile that she couldn’t see he said, “Nonsense.” He then extended his sword with his right arm, pointing the tip of the blade at the goblins. Then he extended his left arm slightly and pointed his palm towards the tip of his sword. Suddenly the he murmured, “Rai Rom,” as the tip pf his sword exploded with magical energy.

The whirlwind of lighting and thunder and spread out horizontally from the tip of his sword towards the goblins in front of him while Larissa stared in disbelief. As they lightning died down, Zhirin grabbed Larissa by her hand and ran towards the opening he had just made. He looked back at her while they ran and said, “C’mon! Most if not all of those goblins are still alive. We have to hurry. Rix is on the other side of the room. If we can get to him and then we will be safe. He can attack the creatures on this side of the room while we attack those that get near us.” Larissa didn’t complain, in fact, she was glad. Mostly because Zhirin hadn’t let her die because of her foolish mistake but also because it seemed as though he had some experience in impossible situations while she didn’t.

The battle had been going pretty well... that is, until the next host showed up. Now they were hopelessly outnumbered, monsters on all sides, slashing and slicing through any defenses Silk was able to employ. It was said that the best defense was a good offense... but this was ridiculous. Frustration made him angry, and anger made him fight all the harder, but it was like trying to fight the ocean. There was so many of them, and now he seemed to have gotten himself cornered. So as to make his death all the slower, the advancing Goblins grinned horribly as they deliberately closed in. That would be a mistake, and Silk would have none of it. "Vak Kruz!" The spell blasted through the nearest Hobgoblin, roasting him in his own armor, and through that opening Silk went, clotheslining two unfortunate Hob Goblins who weren't fast enough. He had escaped from that close call, but so what? More and more Goblins were taking their chances against the Fist Fighter, slashing and cutting with more and more reckless abandon, and it was giving the rest confidence. This was bad. Silk looked for Nyren, and saw him being overwhelmed by another host of Hobgoblins, but for the moment, there was nothing the Fist Fighter could do in the way of aid. He himself was being cornered again, and escaping from this predicament would enlist all of his attention. A bit of acrobatics would be in order. Using all the muscle in his legs, the desperate Fist Fighter leapt high into the air and forward, past an unsuspecting Goblin Night. Kicking backwards in midair, Silk managed to keep his momentum going forward. Then, spinning around, the Fist Fighter fired off another Vak Kruz, during the last quarter of backflip, his hands completing the spell then stretching down to spring off again, using the body of a hapless Hobgoblin as a springboard. Now he continued to fly at incredible speeds, and all was well and good -- until the sword of a Goblin Night cut him down in mid-flight. Luckily for him, the Goblin Night had not been fully prepared for the Fist Fighter oncoming, and he had swatted at him with desperation, mostly in haste, and so Silk managed to live because he had been hit by the flat of the monster's weapon. Still, he was knocked to the ground with fabulous speed, and hit the floor with a loud crash of Ring Mail, leaving the Fist Fighter to gasp frantically for air while his enemies closed in around him. He knew the end was nigh when the Scimitar of an evil-eyed hobgoblin rose his sword high above him, readying it to deliver the final, death-dealing blow, and he shut his eyes as if it not seeing his doom would prevent it. The Fist Fighter sucked in his breath and flinched. The weapon did not fall, and he looked up to see the Heavyblade, Nyren, standing over him protectively, using his enormous weapon to ward away the bloodthirsty Goblins. It turned out that Nyren would save him, not vice versa.

Breathing a sigh, Silk voiced his thanks, but not forgetting his little act, "Gee, thanks, Nyren, if you hadn't come, that jerk would've killed me! Wooooooo!" And Silk was off, gleefully smacking any more opponents that dared face his wrath, yet he could feel the adrenaline ebbing away, and he knew his body was near its limit, if it hadn't already banged against it a couple times. The fight was taking a turn for the worst, and if they didn't somehow get together, they would be picked off one by one, overwhelmed by superior numbers. Still, Silk kept up his act, more because it made him feel like he believed they would win rather than any practical reasons.

"WOOOOO!!WOOOO!!WOOOOOO!!" came Silk's warcry, and then, "Take that ya bastard! Ooooh, That one must've hurt! Ouch! Uncalled for, dude! Yeah, that's what you get! Hahahahaha!" Even Silk couldn't help laughing at himself inside his mind. What a fool I am portraying myself to be. They'll surely let their guard down sometime. And then, inside his mind, he flinched with a new revelation: If Zavier ever saw me act like this, I'd have to start over and make a new character. I'll have to remember to give Zhirin a stern lecture about this after the fight is over.

Silk fired off a third Vak Kruz, this time making a rather large gap, leading directly to where Rix was being protected by Zhirin and Larissa. "This way, Nyren!" called Silk, pointing towards the opening he had created. Not wasting any time, Heavyblade and Fist Fighter dashed towards their only salvation. Just as quickly as they moved through the opening, the gap closed behind them, leaving a singular advancing armored corps of every sort of Goblin in the game. "Back into the passageway, we can hold them easier from there!" called out Rix, his voice sounding very out of place from this chaotic battle because it was so soft. In fact, Silk wondered at how even heard the sound, but they retreated back into the hallway with Rix's arrows providing covering fire.

The Fist Fighter and the Heavyblade turned, both of them able to hold the passageway by themselves with only two opponents to face. However, this advantage also held a disadvantage, and that was that Rix was rarely able to fire any arrows due to the lack of room. Silk didn't worry too much, but at some point, he and Nyren would fatigue, and they would have to switch with Zhirin and Larissa. So far, the Fist Fighter had managed to dispatch three goblins, one with a quick Kiwami combo, another with a wide roundhouse, which he had barely enough room to perform. The third, he managed to kill with one of his comrades swords, which he had, in desperation, scooped from the floor and stabbed through the gut of his opponent. On one occasion, the Fist Fighter was saved by one of Rix's arrows, which whistled past his head and came to a halt in a Goblin's neck. Silk was thankful, but he hoped to God that Rix wouldn't miss.

At some point, Nyren was replaced by Zhirin, due to a very nasty gash across the chest, and then Silk realized how tired he was. But when he glanced back to Larissa, the fear easily discernable across her fabulously expressive eyes, he knew that he would have to hold the fort a bit longer. Still calling out goof obscenities despite the immense pain, the Fist Fighter fought on, growing more and more ferocious with increased desperation. A third Goblin Night fell to a devastating Axe Kick, but his celebration was short lived, for a Hob Goblin had dashed into the opening and slashed at his leg. Silk crumpled like a paper box, grasping his leg while breathing through gritted teeth. His facade forgotten, the Fist Fighter could only wail in agony, but Nyren was there, and he dragged the agonized warrior off, allowing Larissa to face the demons ahead. Silk only prayed that she would be able to hold on until he received a Repth.

The blademaster’s sword swung ferociously as he tried his best to protect not only himself but Rix, the archer. Larissa was holding her own but she was mostly taking on those that tried to reach the archer and that were to the side of Zhirin’s area of attack. He wasn’t sure how much longer Rix would be able to help them. His skill points were bound to deplete at this rate. Zhirin heard the bizarre war cry’s of his friend and shivered. Luckily everyone else was too busy to notice his sudden uneasiness towards his friend’s behavior.

He was growing tired. Beads of sweat were falling freely from his chin and arms. Between fending off all of the goblins and nearly getting killed in his attempt to save Larissa he was beat. Blood flowed freely from the many wounds that were sprawled throughout his body. Many of them weren’t serious but the wound on the side of his head was giving him a little problem. At least the blood was flowing down his left cheek and not into his eyes. Soon he heard the bizarre war chants of the Fist Fighter drawing nearer and he knew that it would be easier to fight if they were all together. Rix told them to move back into the passageway because it would be easier to fend off the creatures there. Zhirin was marveled at how soft Rix’s voice had sounded. It was only a passing thought though, and he was again fending off creatures as Larissa and Rix moved into the passageway.

They all moved into the corridor and stopped a little up ahead. As the goblins chased after them, Silk and Nyren took a stand while the others rested. There was one downside to fighting in the corridor that they hadn’t fully thought out. Rix could barely fire off any arrows because of the lack of space. Now, the corridor was ample enough if it allowed two warriors to fight alongside each and still give them a little room, but it just wasn’t quite enough for an archer. The blade master reclined against the wall and tried to recover some of his strength. Larissa did likewise merely a few feet away from him. Zhirin wiped away some of the blood off of the side of his face and then wiped the sweat off of his hands. He wasn’t sure how just how long Silk and Nyren would be able to last so he had some planning to do. There was always an upside to everything and he had already found one for the situation that Rix was in. Because he wasn’t able to shoot off many arrows it was giving him time to recover his skill points. Zhirin walked over to Rix who was still trying to find a good opening. “When I take over for one of them I will give you a chance to attack. Every now and then I will either roll back or drop to the floor on my stomach. I know that if I did so without telling you, you would still take opportunity but I wanted to make sure.” was what he had to tell Rix.

Zhirin walked towards Larissa. He noticed that she was still a little afraid so he tried to lighten the mood a little. “Hey, I told you this would be a blast didn’t I?” he said to her while smiling. She laughed and shook her head and responded with, “How can you still joke around at a time like this?” Zhirin nodded, “It’s rather simple actually. Anyways…I am here to tell you something. As you may know, Nyren and Silk can’t hold them off forever, we will have to take over soon. Now, if one them gets too tired or injured to continue, I will go in first. After that you will have to fill in.” Larissa looked at him and nodded, though she was still apparently frightened. The blade master turned away from the twin blade and looked towards the duo that was still fighting. He noticed that one of the goblins had gotten past Nyren’s defenses and was about to attack. He gripped his sword tightly in his right hand and said, “Well…I guess I will have to fill in faster than I thought, Larissa. Wish me luck,” as he ran off. He didn’t even hear her say, “…G’luck…” under her breath.

The blade master rushed in as Nyren stumbled back. Zhirin saw the deep gash in his armor and almost winced as the blood began to spew freely from the wound. He rammed his sword into the goblin that had caused the wound as it tried to follow up on its previous attack. Zhirin covered Nyren as backed away to where Rix and Larissa stood. Once he was safely on his way, the blade master resumed where the heavy blade had left off. While he fought off goblin after goblin, he couldn’t help but laugh as he heard all that Silk had to say. He though about informing Silk that Nyren wasn’t there anymore and he could stop his little act, but, how often did he get a free show?

It wasn’t much later that he heard a scream of pain erupt from Silk. Immediately he whirled around to see his friend lying on the ground and clutching his leg. Zhirin tried to rush over but he was stopped by an axe. Luckily, Nyren was there in an instant and dragged the Fist Fighter away. The blade master saw a goblin rush in at the opening and make an attempt to attack the Silk as he was being dragged towards safety. Zhirin knew that he couldn’t do anything to help but how the hell could his friend make it out of that predicament. Suddenly something that was either a miracle or just great time took place. He knew that it was actually the latter but he wanted to believe that it was little of both.

Larissa leapt over both Nyren and Silk. Zhirin watched in satisfaction as she dug one of her blades into the chest of the goblin while the other found its way towards its neck. He noticed the axe raging towards his head. The blade master let himself fall back into a roll but even as he did so, he saw a arrow fly above his face. He heard a gurgling noise and as he finished the roll he heard the sound of more arrows being released. When he was back on his feet he was surprised. Rix had taken out two goblins and injured three more in the blink of an eye. Zhirin thought about just staying down and letting Rix take care off the rest of them but he did want to get rid of at least a few more. He dashed forward and with a few sword swipes, the injured goblins were no more.

The blade master glanced over to see how the twin blade was doing and was surprised. She was doing much better than he had expected. But while he watched her he noticed something. Suddenly he shook his head as he realized what was happening. While ducking a blow he called out to her. “Larissa! You are over doing yourself. Don’t use all of your strength now, pace yourself. Let them do the work, you just clean up the scraps as they tire out. Otherwise you will be the one tired and then they will just overpower you,” his advice seemed to take immediate effect on the female twin blade. Her fighting completely changed, she went from attacking relentlessly to defending and waiting for the opportune time to attack. Zhirin nodded in agreement but was knocked down by a gauntleted goblin.

As he pushed himself to his feet he heard the sounds of arrows. He expected to see the goblin gasping for its life but he was sadly disappointed. Instead, it held one arrow in its fist, which it had snatched out of the air. It was the only arrow that it had not dodged, fortunately the goblins behind him were not so swift. Zhirin made a vertical swipe with his blade but a punch to his gut stopped him in his tracks. Another gauntleted fist screeched towards his face but he dodged it by stumbling to right. He made it seem as though he was going to thrust from the angle he was in but instead, he kicked at the goblin's side with his left leg. It seemed that he too could catch the creature off guard and deliver a well placed strike.

Moments later the goblin was still standing. Zhirin had given Rix a few openings to attack but every time, the goblin dodged the arrows and let those behind him take the shots. The blade master had some bruises from a few hard punches. A trickle of blood made its way down from the right side of his lip after a left hook had taken him by surprise. He had not done too bad himself though. The goblin had some well placed wounds from Zhirin’s blade along with a broken nose from the blade master’s right knee. Zhirin knew that the goblin he was facing was definitely unusual but he knew that he would have to kill it nonetheless. Well there’s my chance. Larissa had struck a goblin in its eye. The bewildered creature stumbled into the goblin facing Zhirin. The blade master thrust upward from a low angle. His blade dug into the chest of the gauntleted goblin as it tried to squirm. The blade slid out as both Larissa and Zhirin continued to fend off the oncoming wave of goblins.

Silk's leg had seen better days. Right now, a Hobgoblin's shortsword had wedged itself straight through the shin and out the calf of the poor Fist Fighter, and every little twitch was pure agony. He would have to remove it, that was for sure, but just as you don't want to go to the doctor's office for the pain, so did Silk not want to remove this blade. Yet as he looked down at his shin, he saw the blade going through his Snow Panther, which he turned dark with all the blood, then out the back of his calf, flecks of white bone still attached to it. Luckily, this weapon had not been poisoned, or he would've already felt the effects, but right now he desperately needed to remove this weapon, but he himself did not have the guts.

"Nyren..." he gasped through tortured breaths, "... remove it... do it now..." With a dark nod, the Heavyblade gripped the hilt of the weapon and pulled with all his might. Silk screamed his heart out, the pain like lightning through his whole body, coursing up and down his nerves, his brain on fire with the agony. Finally, when his ragged breathing calmed, he looked down at his leg, and saw that the dagger was still firmly wedged in his leg. Nyren hadn't pulled hard enough. "Do it... again..." Reluctantly, not in any way desiring to complete a horrid task that no man would want, the Heavyblade tried again. Again, he pulled, trying to dislodge the weapon -- and this time the dagger slid out, bloodied with the Fist Fighter's life fluid.

"Ol Repth."

So that's what the sword he carried was... a Life Sword. The Heavyblade's spell was a level two healing spell, more than 300% stronger than a normal Repth, and probably more than enough to rid Silk of his woes. For a moment, Silk pondered whether or not these warriors actually were comitting some sort of foul play. Maybe they truly were innocent of any sort of backstabbing or betrayal. But no, he must not let his guard down, he could not let his vigilance falter for even an instant. He looked up and saw to his amazement that the Ol Repth had effected the others in the team. Everyone seemed to be totally revitalized, and this gave new hope to the warriors as they attempted to put a halt to the oncoming horde. Zhirin and Larissa were doing quite well, and Silk was especially shocked to see the dimunitive Twinblade actually holding her own against the demonic creatures, her dual weapons slashing with a speed that dared the eye to follow. Before he knew it, the Goblins were in a full retreat, unwilling to risk anymore lives against the stubborn quintet.

"Get down," came Rix's soft voice. Silk dove out of the way, while Zhirin and Larissa both pressed themselves against the walls of the passageway. Silk had some idea of what the archer planned on doing. "Flaming Arrow of Inferno," he heard the soft-voiced archer mutter, and the arrow that he had nocked upon his bow burst into to flame. Rix did not seem to notice, and he released the arrow with practiced precision, aiming it directly at the running horde, who truly had nowhere to run. They could not dodge left or right, and neither could they truly outrun it -- they would be roasted alive. Silk did not look forward to the smell. The arrow was there in an instant, and the insuing explosion was cataclysmic. Rix was already on the floor, as was Silk, but Zhirin and Larissa were thrown to the floor. Nyren, who knew what was coming, was already yards behind them, lying on his stomach and observing the fireworks. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which way you look at it) for Silk, Larissa had been standing directly in front of him when the explosion occurred, and now she was hurled backwards, straight to where Silk lay. Luckily for Larissa, the Fist Fighter was there to break her fall, but Zhirin would receive no such luxuries, and he hit the hard stone with a thump. The Blademaster was a tough warrior, however, and Silk knew he would be fine. Meanwhile, he watched the amazing show, and no, it was not the fireball, but rather, it was Larissa's body all over his own. Silk would be lying if he said he did not enjoy it.

Finally, the fireball subsided, and for a few moments, the horrible smell of burnt goblin eminated from the end of the passage. Then, the corpses dissipated into pieces of data, and along with it went the smell. Sadly, Silk watched as Larissa extricated herself from him, and then he also rose to his feet, dusting his pants off lightly. "Wowee, guys, was that awesome or what? Some shot, Rix, I think I should've switched to Archer instead of Fist Fighter!" Rix did not reply, but instead began to walk back into the main chamber, saying not a word to anyone. Silk continued to babble, which he was becoming frightening good at, as they walked out of the passageway to see if Rix's spell had left any survivors. Surprisingly, not a single one survived. "Wasn't that awesome guys, wasn't it? Wowee, so many goblins and we killed every single last one of them. Boy, I'm glad Rix was here to blast them all to hell, huh?" As the Fist Fighter continue to babble, he caught Zhirin's eye for an instant, and in that instant, Silk gave his friend the tiniest wink. He was pretty sure that none of the others had seen his little message.

They exited the vast dome with the green panels and headed towards another passageway. This one led to the next room, which turned out to be exactly identical to the last. "Hey, why don't we take a break for a little. I need to pause and go to the bathroom anyways. A little food couldn't hurt either," spoke Zhirin.

"Awwww... I wanted to keep going!" whined the Fist Fighter. Inisde, Silk beamed. This was a perfect idea, because then he and the Blademaster could discuss their plans on an instant messenger, away from the suspicious eyes of their accomplices.

"Yeah, let's do that. I'm really tired," spoke Larissa. Rix said nothing, while Nyren agreed heartily.

As he fought on, he heard Silk’s screams behind him. It was rather perturbing to hear those cries of agony but he knew that there’s was nothing that he could do to help, besides fight off the goblins. Soon he felt a soothing warmth that new to be a Repth. He had no idea how it had affected him though. Silk had probably been in too much pain to cast one and if Nyren or Rix had used it, then he shouldn’t have been affected. He wasn’t in their party, not that he was complaining though. With the renewed strength he new that both he and Larissa would be able to fend off whatever goblins came after them. Soon the depleting forces realized that they were actually loosing the battle and began to run for their lives.

The blade master heard Rix tell them to move out of the way. Both Zhirin and Larissa pressed themselves against the walls. Larissa to the left while Zhirin brushed up against the right side of the corridor. He heard the attack being called out and waited to see what kind of attack it would be. Shortly after, he wasn’t surprised to see a flaming arrow soar towards the fleeting goblins. Zhirin looked on as the arrow hit one of them and exploded with a furious inferno of flames. Suddenly he realized that he should have really dropped to the ground instead of up against the wall. Well I guess I will end up on the floor anyways. Were his thoughts as the power of the blast reached him.

Larissa flew backwards at full speed. Luckily, Zhirin saw that Silk was there to break her fall. The blade master on the other hand, was not as fortunate. The floor was not as soft as body nor was it very understanding when people crashed into it. He landed on his back…the first time. As his body bounced back up he knew that it was not going to be a pain free ride. He continuously crashed against the floor in very painful positions. After a few more excruciating moments he finally stopped. His body was plopped face down against the harsh stone floor. Zhirin thought he heard someone ask him if he was fine so he mumbled, “I’ll be fine. Luckily, the ground broke my fall?”

Zhirin stood up shakily and looked around. He saw that everyone was doing fine more or less and so h smiled lightly. They all walked back to see if any of the goblins remained but they were pleasantly surprised to see that there wasn’t one left. After one of Silk’s remarks he couldn’t but turn to look at him. His friend gave him a slight wink and continued on. Zhirin thought to himself before walking any further. Maybe Kalian has been drinking a little beer outside of the game. He sure is acting weird, though, it is pretty amusing. Suddenly as he remembered the outside world, another thought entered his mind as he

Instead of just thinking about it though, he voiced of his opinion. “Hey, why don't we take a break for a little. I need to pause and go to the bathroom anyways. A little food couldn't hurt either," said the blade master in a rather upbeat tone. He looked over to everyone who was staring a little blankly at him. Silk whined but Zhirin knew that he was either still acting or he really was drunk. The blade master looked over at the other three who were still a little dumfounded by his little comment. Gee maybe I should have eased them in a little before saying that. Well…no matter. Once more he looked towards them and spoke, “I’d offer you guys something to eat but I don’t feel like shipping off boxes of food at the moment. Maybe tomorrow.” Once more everyone looked at him but this time they gave him a funny look. Well everyone except of Larissa, who had now grown accustomed to his out of placed jokes and was giggling along side him. Zhirin nodded to her and addressed the others. “Alright, well I will try to hurry up so I should be back in a matter of minutes,” he said even as his character began to turn gray.
___________________________
Orlys took off the virtual reality headset, put the controller down, and ran for the bathroom. Not too long later he turned came out of the bathroom and walked towards the kitchen. He hadn’t been joking when he had said that he could use something to eat. As he opened the fridge, he saw two slices of pizza and his half drunk bottle of cranberry juice. He smiled and thought; Why not? He took out the pizza slices and started eating as he walked back to his room. When he was back at his computer he saw that there was a message from Kalian. “Huh. I wonder what this is about,” he murmured as he opened it.

Silk maximized the tab on his desktop, replaced his headset, and then put his hands on the keys as he was re-immersed into "The World". Larissa still appeared to be out of the game, but Rix and Nyren were ready to get moving. All they had to do was wait for Larissa, for Zhirin had also wasted no time in rejoining the party. So far, the dungeon had not offered them anything too unpleasant, and they were pretty confident that the worst was over. The wide, domed room that they had rested in was completely empty and bereft of any sort of adornments, save for the two doors leading out, one which was they door they had entered by, and the other, which was the only door available. They entered through the opening, expecting another room similar to the previous one, or at least another passageway, but were shocked to find something totally dissimilar: a subterannean sea.

Silk gazed out in shock at the huge underground body of water. The entire affair was faintly menacing, and the waters extended into the darkness which held their eyes at bay. Tall, spiky rock formations reached down from the ceiling, and equally huge spike-shaped rocks leaped upwards from the otherwise serene liquid surface. The water was like a wall, so smooth and opaque was the surface, and Silk was thoroughly creeped out by its mysteriousness.

Fortunately for them, a Viking-style Longboat awaited their arrival, and it seemed to have been placed just for their use. Tied up against a dock that stretched out from the earth, the Longboat did not even sway, so serene was the water's surface. And neither did the water's edge fluctuate, but instead, it stayed still as a pond water. "Oooh! A boat! Let's cross the lake with it." Silk continued his act, and he was the first to leap onto the dock and into the longboat. In the darkness, there was no way to tell what color the aqueous craft was, but the Fist Fighter was able to discern the silhouette of a tall sail attached to a pole placed in the center of the ship. Everyone piled inside hastily, not wasting any time at all, and then they were taken away, for without warning, the boat began to move away from the dock, as if by some supernatural force. The sail itself billowed open, but Silk could feel no wind, and just as he began to wonder about how they would see, two torches on either end of the craft came alight with fire, which burned heartily in the subterranean night.

The boat creaked as they journeyed forward, and the sound of the water swishing along the sides of the craft echoed and re-echoed through the cavern. The silence was palpable, almost sacred, and Silk kept quiet, as if making a sound would trigger something horrible, awful. Larissa huddled in the bow, as if the rickety wood of the craft would protect her from the terrors without, out there in the dark. Their boat was like a tiny island of light, shooting out its rays into the dark, but making no headway. In fact, Silk could not determine how far they had gone, as soon as they lost sight of the green panels on the walls on the shore. Now it was as if they were floating in space, a space with no stars, no planets... only black holes.

A startled cry rose up from the bow -- it was Larissa. "What? What is it?" cried Silk, a little bit too fast. He was mroe nervous than he thought, and it was slipping through. In fact, everyone was strung a little tight -- except for Rix. He was as quiet and calm as the waters that they traveled over. Larissa was almost sobbing when Silk reached, and she said, "I saw something under the water, I saw it!" A chill went up Silk's spine. Fighting a sea-monster here... it would be suicide. Despite their growing panic, the boat did not go any faster, and there were no oars to speak of to aid them in their time of need.

Another cry, this time from the aft side -- it was Nyren. "There it was, something's down there. I saw the glint of an eye, I swear it." The Heavyblade drew his weapon, and the others followed suit. Silk began to tighten the straps on his Fist Guards, while Rix, ever-calm, began to prepare his bow. The silence was torturous, but there was nothing for them to do, save for stew in their own worried thoughts. The calm before the storm. Silk stayed near Zhirin, who in turn stayed near Larissa, who in turn stayed near Zhirin. However, Nyren knew where the real protection lay -- Rix. Rix, however, stayed near no one.

The waiting was excruciating. Silk felt as if he could pull out a knife and cut a piece out of the fear that floated so densely on the longboat. Time was immeasurable, and Silk felt that he had been scanning the waters for hours, his eyes hurt so badly. Nothing appeared, until... "Oh my god..." breathed Larissa. It was a Mantis.

The body of the gray blade master began to retake its normal color as Zhirin joined them once more. His little conversation with Silk had not been quite as inspiring as he had hoped. The gist of it was; there was nothing that they could do, except follow the trio and be on their guard. Once he was fully back into character he realized that they were only waiting for Larissa. When she had returned, they all began moving again. All of them walked to the only door in the room that would not take them back the way they had come. They all expected to find another room or corridor but were stunned.

What they found was what appeared to be a subterranean cave. It was mostly a dark deep caveen that seemed to have no end, but they could see that there was water up ahead. Spires of rock clung to the stony ceiling while similar spires emerged from the surface of the water. They all walked away from the walls of the cave which provided the green light that separated them from the unknown. As they drew closer they were able to see that there was a boat in the water. The blade master heard Silk give one of his silly remarks and shook his head. The Fist Fighter ecstatically hopped into the boat. Everyone else followed soon after, though they were not as enthusiastic.

Slowly the boat began to move away from the dock. It felt rather odd though, there was no wind yet the sail moved as though a gust was striking it swiftly. The blade master brushed the notion aside and sat over on the right side of the boat as two troches came ablaze on either side of the craft. In the torchlight, everything seemed to be suspicious, even his companions. Everyone from Rix to Silk looked as though they were ready to attack. He was aware that it was only his imagination and the lack of light that were playing games on him but he couldn’t help but feel a little edgy. As he looked around, he noticed that everyone except for Rix felt the same. The archer was unusually calm while they sailed through the mystifying waters.

Somewhere throughout their travel, Zhirin’s character had returned to normal. He had completely forgotten about his façade as the boat sailed on. Realizing this, he looked up. Larissa had been looking at him when his head whirled towards her. He could see the torchlight shining off of her eyes and he suddenly smiled, as he didn’t want to her to see that he had momentarily left his façade behind. She smiled back at him but he merely shifted his gaze towards the waters that they were drifting on. He kept his demeanor friendly and smiled, even as he stared into the unknown darkness that lay before them.

Later, when they had traveled farther into the water, there arose a scream. Everyone turned to see that it had originated from Larissa. Silk moved over to her to see what had happened while the rest of them looked around. Please let it be her imagination. He hoped as the Fist Fighter question her. The twin blade said that she had seen something moving in the water. Suddenly another cry arose but this time it was from Nyren. In a nervous voice he told them that he had seen the gleam of an eye in the water. All but Rix drew their weapons nervously. The archer prepared his bow with the same calm that he would have if he were practicing on some shooting range. The Fist Fighter moved closer to the blade master, the blade master drew closer to the twin blade, while the twin blade also drew closer to the blade master. The heavy blade and the archer on the other hand, stayed away from anyone else. Zhirin saw both Silk and Larissa next to him and thought; Yeah, like I am going to be much help in this situation. Our hope lies in Rix, and both the speed and accuracy of his bow.

The creature emerged from the water. It was a Mantis, and it did not appear very friendly. Rix let loose an arrow rather calmly but it wasn’t very effective. Zhirin saw that the skin of the creature was rather harsh and that it would need to be broken through, if they wanted to damage the creature. He gripped his sword but that was just about all he could do for the moment. The blade master couldn’t exactly attack the creature with his blade, well, not unless it drew any closer. The difficult part about this battle would be that they had nowhere to run. They were at a complete disadvantage in the blade master’s eyes.

Rix released arrow after arrow but they didn’t seem to be doing anything to the Mantis. Zhirin thought about telling Rix to use the attack that he had used before, back in the corridor, but he knew that it would probably be disastrous. At such close range, the explosion would probably devastate them more then it would the Mantis. Zhirin rushed forward towards the edge of the boat and spoke to his comrades. He tried not to sound too nervous but it really was hard as he said, “We have to protect the ship. It will most likely be difficult but we have to. If this boat sinks…then so do we.” The arms of the Mantis plowed onto the warriors but they wouldn’t let any of them hit the boat. So far Zhirin and Nyren were having the best luck and that was merely because their weapons were larger than Silk’s and Larissa’s.

"Have at me, you bastard!" Silk called. Now that the battle had begun, and that the adrenaline was pumping, everything seemed less scary. The fight with the Mantis would be easy, but first, Silk had to actually reach the creature. Rix's arrows were doing little to no damage to the creature's thick hide, while Zhirin and Nyren could not get in close enough to really take a proper swing at it. Larissa and the Fist Fighter could barely touch the creature let alone hurt it, so they were out of luck in that category.

Silk approached the twinblade and said, "We should fire some Juk spells at the thing. I've got a Juk Kruz. What about you?"
"Well... I've got a Juk Rom," she replied.
"That'll be fine, let's go." The two fired Juk Roms and Kruzes like there was no tomorrow, and a veritable hurricane of leaves sliced through the air and collided with the Mantis's skin. The attacks were doing damage, to be sure, but not enough; the leaves were simply bouncing of the rock-hard skin, while Rix's arrows richocheted uselessly, and even Zhirin and Nyren's swords were deterred. There had to be some way to hurt this creature, before it tore the longboat in half, and that was becoming dangerously close.

"Rai Rom." Brilliant.

Zhirin's lightning tornado entered the water and caused the liquids to boil with crackling electricity. The Mantis's long feelers released and drew away, and the Fist Fighter could hear it hiss in agony. Silk's only regret was that Zhirin had not used the spell earlier. The intense reaction between the electric tornado and the water caused the once placid surface to erupt into a massive pillar, drenching the warriors in what turned out to be freezing cold water. Immediately, the Fist Fighter began shivering. Silk had a bad aversion to cold.

Suddenly, the Mantis actually flew out of the water, the marine creature shaped like a colossal Devil Ray, who's singular feelers were as long a cross as the longboat. The wingspan of the demon was so huge that the torchlight could not illuminate the end, and as for the tail, the same held true. No wonder they couldn't hurt it, Rix's arrows were splinters to this thing. Silk was frozen to the spot, mesmerized by the sheer hugeness of the creature. Rix, however, had other ideas. "Arrow of the Burning Stars." The thunder elemented arrow arced outwards, a tiny little light compared to the great blackness that blotted out everything. The arrow blinked out sight.

BOOOOM!

Silk was thrown to the deck, and he could hear the sounds of the others having an equally difficult time keeping their balance. The electrical surge crackled through the air, and the Fist Fighter felt his hair stand on end. He could actually see the light through his screwed shut eyelids, and the screams of the Mantis were so loud that he covered his ears to avoid their bursting. That thing did not like electricity, that was for sure.

"Rai Rom."

Zhirin had regained his legs, and now he was on his feet, firing off another lightning tornado. The thing's screams were deafening, and the incredible force of its beating wings threatened to knock the ship apart. Zhirin had barely been able to get off the Rai Rom before he too was knocked to his feet, but now it seemed that perhaps they would succeed and driving off the great behemoth. Rix could not possibly manage to fire off another arrow, that was for sure, but perhaps the Mantis had endured enough pain, and would now swim off to its deep subterannean home.

The blade master saw as a combination of Juk Kruz and Juk Rom collided against the rough skin of the Mantis. Larissa and Silk had done well but it hadn’t been quite enough. The Mantis was still standing and looked none too friendly about what had just happened. Zhirin looked down almost hopelessly and saw the reflection of the torchlight on his Silver Bracer. Of course! He exclaimed in his mind as he extend his left arm. The blade master grinned as he shot off a Rai Rom at the creature. As soon as the ball of electrical energy struck the rough skin of the creature, it exploded into a whirlwind of thunder.

A series of lightning bolts struck the surface of the water giving the attack even greater power. The blade master shook his head for not having used the attack earlier. He had been so stupid for not having done so. Electrical attacks were most effective when being used against creatures that were soaked in water. The light of the thunderous tornado lit the cavern briefly before allowing the darkness to creep back in. The tornado of lightning also drew up water into a pillar which crashed down on everyone in the boat. Zhirin then saw that they had more to worry about then just drying their clothes.

The Mantis actually flew out of the water. They were all surprised at its total size. If they included the wing span and its tail, then they couldn’t even see the entire creature. Zhirin took a step back to get a hold of his footing. The ship rocked as the waves that the Mantis had created brushed against it. Immediately Zhirin heard Rix call out an attack. And arrow enveloped in lighting was released from his bow. The blade master saw how the arrow traveled unerringly towards the Mantis. As it struck the body of the creature it disappeared. Then suddenly, an explosion took its place. The ship rocked once more as the force from the explosion caused everything in the surrounding area to shake uncontrollably. Zhirin stumbled back and fell but he immediately pushed himself back up. He knew that Rix’s had indeed been powerful and that it alone could probably take out the creature but he wanted to make sure.

Once again he gathered his skill points and shot off one more Rai Rom at the Mantis. Again the tornado of lighting blazed up around the creature as the thunder from the archer’s attack died down. When the lightning from his attack faded he saw that the body of the Mantis was charred and that it was well beyond dead. The blade master didn’t give any credit to his attack for he knew that the creature had probably already died when he attacked with his spell. The ship rocked horribly and he suddenly found himself teetering to the edge of the ship. Another waved crashed up against the boat, forcing him to tumble.

Zhirin was barely hanging on the side of the ship while his body dangled in the water. He sheathed his sword while hanging from the side of the ship, which seemed rather odd. With his other hand now free, he tried grab a hold of the ledge. Unfortunately Larissa had also succumbed to the boat’s powerful shake and she too teetered overboard. Zhirin grabbed a hold of her arm as her body crashed into the water. He wasn’t about to let go of her, but he also had no way of getting back onto the boat. As if by some stroke of luck though, Silk had seen what had happened. He was there in an instant and was doing his best to pull the other two up. The Fist Fighter grasped Zhirin’s arm and started pulling, yet it seemed that fate was against them.

The massive body of the Mantis was falling into the water. Most of it had already become mere particles of data but it wasn’t enough. A massive wave arose from the waters that were already giving the group a hard time. Zhirin knew that there was probably no way that he and Larissa would be saved now but he still had to believe. His body was covered in water, as was Silk’s, and it was becoming quite the problem. The blade master’s arm was slowly slipping away from his friend and there was not much that he could do. If Silk used both hands to pull them up then he too would fall overboard. There only hope was that Nyren or Rix could lend a hand but as the wave hit the ship, Zhirin knew that he and Larissa would not step foot back in that boat.

Despite his will to cling to his friend’s arm, the power of the wave wedged them apart. Both Larissa and Zhirin drifted away from the ship at an incredible speed. Though the surface of the water seemed placid, there was a terribly strong undercurrent. Zhirin could hear the twin blade cry out for help but there was nothing more that he could do for her. He was holding on, and at the moment, that was all he could do. The blade master had not been able to hang on to Kalian but he sure as hell was going to maintain a firm grasp on Larissa. Zhirin yelled at her to hold tightly to his arm and to not panic. Not panic? Like that will happen. I can barely keep my thoughts straight. He had no clue if she could hear him but he spoke anyways, “Trust me! We can make it out of this! Just, no matter what, do not let go of my arm!”

The blade master was surprised as he felt her grip tighten around his forearm. He responded by tightening his own grip on her forearm and praying that they would be fine. The cavern had grown dark and now appeared even less friendly then it had before. There was no light coming from anywhere. Larissa and Zhirin were just traveling with the current. Zhirin was aware that the boat was long gone and that the end was probably near. A sudden splash of water on his face made him snap out of his growing hopelessness. He tried his hardest to see if there was anything around them but he just saw the silhouette of Larissa. The currents were carrying them swiftly but there was no telling where they would end up. Zhirin sighed and spat water out of his mouth while trying to maintain his hold on the twin blade’s arm. There were a few thoughts that fluttered through his mind but one of them stood out the most. Maybe going to the theta server and agreeing to go on a quest with Kalian wasn’t such a great idea today.

Silk huddled helplessly in the bow of the longboat as the titanic waves from the Mantis's corpse came tumbling onto the tiny ship. The torches had long since been doused by the water, but electrical energy still crackled through the air, illuminating the hellish seen every few instants. He scrunched his eyes shut, hoping that he'd be able to survive this encounter of colossal proportions. Surprisingly, the seemingly rickety ship held up well against the mighty winds and high tides, and for a moment, Silk thought that all was well. Another flash of lightning revealed otherwise.

One instant, Silk was looking at Zhirin, who was clutching at a rail with all the strength in his body. Nearby, the dimunitive Twinblade was clutching to Zhirin's leg with all of the strength in her body, and both of them were gettign pretty banged up by the continual waves. For an instant, the Fist Fighter saw Larissa release her hold, and quite an inopportune time it was, for also in that same split-second, a powerful wave shook the poor ship to the core, knocking Zhirin over the side. Larissa, quite startled by the abrupt disappearance of her friend, looked over the side and was soon tossed out as well. Silk feared the worst, and he dashed over without a care for life and limb.

When he reached the side, he saw a single hand gripping the rail with strength gained from panic. With a quick glance down, he saw Larissa gripping Zhirin's remaining hand, her eyes as big as plates, the fear clearly painted across her face. Quickly, Silk grabbed his friend's hand with his right arm, while using his other arm to anchor himself against the railing, but the horrible waves seemed intent on destroying their grip. Each consecutive wave pulled Zhirin away, and simultaneously loosened his hold. Things were not looking well, and Silk could already see where this was heading. Nyren and Rix were conspicuously absent.

Inch by inch, Zhirin's fingers slid down his own, until finally... he was gone. The Fist Fighter let out an anguished roar, loss and frustration coursing through his body, and then he was pulled back from the railling by a strong arm. It was Rix. "Get back from there, or you will shortly follow your friend to the grave." Silk flared at the archer's flippant tone, and he lashed out by punching the man as hard as he could in the jaw. Fortunately for everyone, he missed due to another shake of the ship's deck, and Silk soon met with the wooden boards, coming down hard with a thump.

Now the fire was out, and the darkness had sent in. Silk realized how tired he was, and soon the lightning spells had gone their full course. Without another word, he slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Silk awoke to a jarring shake. The had landed. Looking up, he saw that someone had relit the torches, and he also saw that the familiar green panels were present as well. Silk hated those panels. Rising to his feet, his body aching all over, he recognized Nyren and Rix standing on the dry land. Neither of them seemed to upset about Zhirin and Larissa's deaths, and they had not been standing their for too long. As if he was a zombie, the Fist Fighter trudged off the ship and onto dry land. Without a word, the trio made their way into the only door available on the sandy shore, leaving the longboat where it landed.

The next room was occupied as usual by the hateful green panels, but also their stood a monster. A single Metal Emperor stood in their path, his shining armor an impeneratrable wall. He wielded no weapon, preferring to his his steel gloves to deal death where he saw fit, and he was undoubtedly a skilled opponent, worthy of respect. Despite all of this, Silk muttered, "Leave him to me." Nyren merely grinned, while Rix prepared his bow.

Anger coursed through his body now, no longer was he a useless husk. He charged, his upper body turning at the waist slightly as he ran, coiling his right fist back to launch like a missile. The Metal Emperor was not to take this insult lightly, and he swung with all the force bestowed upon his body, but Silk was too fast. He halted his charge with incredible agility, and, displaying further how fast he could be, he accelerated back to full speed in no distance flat. His fist came around like a hammer, slamming into the Metal Emperor's head, and then his left came around, knocking into the creature's side with colossal force. The Emperor staggered backwards, cradling his side with one huge arm. But Silk was not done yet, no, not by a long shot. The Fist Fighter charged in again, giving the Emperor no time to recover, and his leg shot out in a vicious roundhouse, slamming into the creature's head again, exactly where he had attacked previously. Still, he was not finished, and he attacked thrice more with the same roundhouse, each time going successful lower until, on the final one, he altered the kick to a forward high kick, thrusting his leg out and hitting the Emperor in the chest with full force, knocking the once formidable monster into the wall with such power that he actually destroyed some of the wall and the panels. He was no more.

Breathing heavily, the Fist Fighter regained his composure. Without a word, he walked towards the remaining opening, and as he entered, the green panels came alight. In a sudden surge of rage, he punched one of the panels with all his might, utterly crushing it. As if nothing had happened, he walked on.

A sudden softening in Larissa’s grip forced Zhirin to turn towards her. Through the darkness he could see her. She was merely at arms length but she no longer appeared to be moving. Zhirin tightened his grip around her forearm and pulled her closer to him. Damn, this can’t be happening she can’t be…oh thank god. The blade master relaxed a little when he heard her heavy breathing. She had merely passed out, he didn’t need to panic. Still, with her passed out it would be much harder for him to keep them from drowning. His legs were already getting tired as was his free arm, which in reality wasn’t free as it was moving back and forth in an attempt to keep him afloat.

Minutes later he found that everything was suddenly growing darker. The sounds were fading away as was his grip on the twin blade. Water worked its way down his throat, forcing him to cough. He suddenly realized that it wasn’t that everything was getting darker and getting quieter, it was that he too was slipping into unconsciousness. He jerked up his right arm and slapped himself in the face. With his face all cold and damp along with his wet hand, the slap felt like a sharp sting that kept him awake. The blade master looked over at the twin blade’s face and shook his head. Now that she was unconscious, she didn’t seem so frightened. His eyes widened as he realized that he could actually see her face. Before, he had only been able to make out her silhouette, now he could actually see her. There had to be more light, but from where?

For a moment, he no longer felt tired. There was hope for them after all. Zhirin looked around frantically in search of light. The tides weren’t as strong anymore which allowed him to move around a little. Off in the distance he could see something. It was far off but it stood out. It was darker and it rose from the water. At first he believed that it was creature but he soon saw that there were many more. They aren’t moving. What the…are those? Can they be? Zhirin tried to swim closer but a sudden pain jerked him back. His left arm ached severely. He had known that it would happen sooner or later but he had hoped that it wouldn’t happen at all. His left arm was finally giving out on him.

It would be easy to let go of Larissa and make an attempt to save himself, but, he knew that the easy way was not always the right way. Besides, he actually liked Larissa, and he wasn’t about to let her fall to her death. Though he did wish that she would wake up. His left arm still ached but he knew what he had to do. Zhirin pulled her onto his back with his right arm and turned back towards the dark, unmoving figures. Despite the pain, he grit his teeth and started swimming. Every stroke with his left arm felt as though the limb was ripping out of its socket. It was worth it though if he could save himself and the twin blade.

Slowly, he approached the figures. If they are monsters than I am just swimming towards our graves. But what other choice do I have? I can only hope that they are what I think they are. Suddenly the current of water began to shift in his direction. It didn’t take long before he didn’t even have to struggle to swim. Zhirin drew closer to the figures, hoping that he was right. He was glad to see that they were as he had hoped. Multiple spires of rock graced the surface of the water. Zhirin couldn’t be more happy to see a bunch of rocks. With some effort he swam away from the current and grasped a hold of the nearest spire. He pulled himself close to it and sighed. Finally he had caught a break and boy did it feel good.

The blade master nudged Larissa’s face with his right shoulder but it was ineffective. She was out cold. He climbed up the spire a little and looked around. Out of the water the body of the twin blade didn’t feel so light. He saw that the water up ahead slanted down. More importantly though, he could see even clearer now. Zhirin looked down where the water slanted and saw more spires. After some thought he made up his mind and moved back into the water. The water no longer seemed to have great strength but he was too tired to notice. With a few strokes from his right arm he was at the next spire. There were many more spires that he would need to get past if he wanted to go farther through what now appeared to be a stream. He was resolved to make it down though and pushed himself off of the rock.

How far down he had gone was something that he hadn’t really paid attention to. The only thing that mattered at the moment was making it down, and that became even truer as he saw a slight glow at the bottom of the stream. With a sudden burst of adrenaline Zhirin reached the bottom by zigzagging his way from one spire to another. He saw that there was an opening much like the previous one that he had seen before they boarded the boat. Zhirin walked past a few more spires and saw that there was a different glow emanating from the glyphs. But even as he stared at them, the glyphs began to glow the same eerie green as all of the others. He walked over to the wall and placed Larissa down. He sat down next to her and breathed heavily. His body ached and he felt like sleeping but he couldn’t. If he did and they were attacked then they would certainly be killed.

Zhirin looked around reclined his head against the wall. He drew his sword and placed it on his lap. Larissa stirred a little but only enough for her body to recline against his shoulder. The blade master pushed her back but a few minutes later she merely slumped back onto his shoulder. Again he pushed her back up against the wall but again the same thing happened. Minutes later he gave up and let her just rest there. Besides it wasn’t bothering him, he had other things to worry about than someone sleeping on his shoulder. They probably think we are dead. Worse thing is, I don’t even know where we are?

The dungeon had morphed into a dim haze of hatred, pain, and rage. Aching loss warred with raging anger, suffocating frustration lashed out at unbearable sorrow, and all of them added to the growing pressure on Silk's mind. As he journeyed down into the core of the dungeon, he grew more and more emotional, and less and less in control. His only outlet became battle, battle and simply exertion of brute force. He began to relish the battles as the only time when he could get away, and the only time he could tap into the primal energies that were inside of his body, that so wanted to hurt something, to get back at whoever had done this to him. To Zhirin.

Now, Silk was in the process of defeating yet another opponent, this one a Fresh Valkyrie. Dead Valkyrie described him better. The raging Fist Fighter had made short work of the monster, whose long polearm should have been an excellent defense against the close-ranged warrior. Should have. With fury-driven speed, the Fist Fighter had evaded the thrusts and sweeps of the Valkyrie with ease, driving him back and back with weak and strong punches and kicks alike, toying with him, prolonging his pain. Sometimes when the Fist Fighter had the chance to finish the creature off, he would simply disable it further, but never kill him. Never that. That would be too easy. Finally, when the monster was broken, on the floor, sobbing for death, begging for release, only then would Silk destroy him. He had to beg. Only then.

At one point, Silk lost it so completely that he destroyed every single panel in a room, Rix and Nyren onlooking with a mix of fear and pity. The Fist Fighter was treading a very thin line, and if he went over to one side, they might be the next targets of his feral rampage, not some simple glyphs. His true conscious was there, alive, but instead of trying to put a stop to all of this, he stayed huddled in a corner of his mind, hiding from the demons that were destroying his mind. He could not even decipher his motives, and the why of what was going on was lost on him. No, it was just some animalistic behavior imbedded deep inside his instincts, and now it had been released. Silk could not remember a time when he had become like this, and he was generally a pretty calm fellow. But now... now he did not know if he could ever get away from this. Ever.

Battles came and went, fleeting like so many little birds, and he might as well have taken on the entire dungeon alone. All the rooms, all the passages, all the fights -- they were all one in his mind, and he could not differentiate through the haze that was his emotion. Valkyrie, Scarlet King, Fiend Menhir -- they all fell to the chaos in his mind, the double-edged sword so sharp that it cut open his heart and dragged his entrails over his eyes, creating illusions and demons for him to face. The Fist Fighter was alone and surrounded at once, but there was no aid. No aid.

Rooms, rooms, he was in a labyrinth of rooms, so many passages for him to lose himself in. Corridors and doors, all around, he was surrounded, drowning, running, fleeing, dying. Pain and agony and thought and consciousness -- they were all gone as he was reincarnated in fire, an inferno so hot and strong that his friends' hands were devoured as they attempted to free him from his prison and his paradise. Prison and paradise.

He was in a sea, or a lake so huge that it might as well have been an ocean. Floating, alone, darkness all around, he treaded with energy that was dying all at once, diminishing to nothing, until it flared into a fit of terror, and then died off. He was afraid, he was terrified, he could not run or swim or hide, but he could scream. Yes, he could scream and punch at the walls that were closing in, closing in always. Screaming, the Fist Fighter punched and kicked and drowned and lied and then it was over.

In a sudden flash of conscious thought, Silk pondered on himself and his friend. If Zhirin was truly gone, the friend that had been with him since almost the beginning -- no, he would not think of it. Blocking the dire thoughts from his mind, the Fist Fighter allowed himself to be retaken into the chaos, the chaos that was agony and bliss at once, the chaos that would be his salvation and his destruction. Armageddon had fallen on his mind, and he would pay for letting it get so close.

If he thought he was insane now... if he thought this was pain and agony that he was experiencing... if the demons in his mind seemed like they were invincible now... then he would never, ever in a million years be prepared for what was to come.

Take the long way home... take the long way home...

The spires almost appeared to dance in the unusual green radiance that was provided by the glyphs. Zhirin had lost count of how many times he had gripped the hilt of his sword because he believed that there was something hiding out there. With Larissa sound asleep on his shoulder as he sat on the cold stone floor, there was no need for false appearances. If he did, he would only be fooling himself, or trying to, at the most. Once more he seized his blade as it rested on his lap but once again he released it. What could possibly be out there? Obviously it couldn’t be that horrible if it hadn’t even attacked them when they were defenseless. No, it was only his imagination and his paranoia that were causing him distress.

It was odd to be sitting there, doing nothing but protecting the sleeping twin blade. His eyes shifted from one spire to next. Over and over, vigilantly making sure that nothing would take him by surprise, he would watch the stones. The look on his face was no longer friendly and inviting. It was now a mix between seriousness, anger, frustration, and despair. Surely if Larissa was able to see that look now, she would back away from fear of being attacked. Zhirin realized this and toned it down a little. He now appeared as he usually did. His posture was no longer that of a casual player, it was rigid. The blade master’s face was serious while his eyes were stern. Those eyes that not long ago seemed so friendly now looked so callous. He was searching among the spires once more but he found nothing.

Larissa opened her eyes and found that her vision was crooked. It didn’t take her long to realize that she had been sleeping on Zhirin’s shoulder. She glanced at his face from where she was. The twin blade had a hard time seeing the warrior’s face from the angle she was in combined with the subtle green glow from the glyphs, but she saw it. She saw the same look on his face that she had seen on the boat. It was so different from what she knew of him. That look completely shattered all of the jokes and smiles that he could possibly give. His eyes seemed so cold and bleak that it almost terrified her. She remembered seeing the torchlight reflect off of his eyes in the boat and how much that had scared her. Twice she had seen that look but that was enough to prove to her that he was not completely who he appeared to be. Yet he was still who she hoped he was. There was proof of that. He had saved her life more than once, already. Zhirin had rushed in to save her when she had foolishly let herself fall behind and get surrounded by goblins, and then there was this. The last thing she remembered was him falling off of the boat, her following soon after and him grabbing her by her arm. The rest was a little hazy but a sudden vision came to her. Zhirin had been holding on to her after he had slipped away from Silk’s hand. While the water carried them away, he had never let go. Even after she passed out he must have held on to her. The proof of that was that she was there with him.

The twin blade knew that he must have dragged her along with him to where they now sat. If he truly was a completely callous and stern individual as his eyes claimed, then he would have let her fall to her death. But no, he saved her, and kept her close by so that nothing would happen to her. Again she glanced at his face and saw the same look as before. Not wanting to believe that, that was really who he was, she closed her eyes and moved her head slightly. She made it appear as though she had barely come to. When she opened her eyes she was glad to see his familiar, friendly face smiling down on her. It was hard to believe that he could have two different sides to himself as she had seen in his eyes, but neither seemed to be actually fake. And if his smiles and friendly nature were a complete façade, then he sure was good at it.

She was a little surprised when she heard him speak, but then again she was busy trying to figure out who he really was. “Are you okay?” was all he had to say.

Larissa, upon hearing the tone of his voice, stopped caring. For the moment she would just comfort herself in that he was taking care of her. She promptly responded with, “I am a little tired but I think I will be fine.”

Zhirin gave her a warm smile and said, “Good. We should try to find the others. I don’t really know where we are. It was too dark for me to tell how far we drifted. There is a doorway a few feet next to me. We should move quickly.”

Larissa merely nodded but decided that she needed to at least thank him. “Hey…thanks, for not letting me drown. I really appreciate it.”

Once more he smiled at her. “You’re welcome. Next time, if there is one, could you please try to not pass out. It makes things more difficult.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his last comment. Zhirin laughed with her for a split second before standing up. He took his blade into his hand and then promptly sheathed it. As Larissa tried to stand she saw that he had offered her his right hand. She gladly accepted the gesture and let him help her to her feet. He looked around once more before walking over towards the doorway. Zhirin kept his right hand gripped firmly on his sword as it rested in its sheath. They could still be attacked and he was going to be ready if they were.

Both of them walked into a corridor that was not very wide. At the end there appeared to be something and it was moving. Larissa gasped as she noticed that it was a set of Goblin Nights. She turned to Zhirin but found that he was gone. The twin blade almost panicked but she heard him say, “Let me handle them,” in a austere tone. She turned back towards the goblins and saw that he was already five feet ahead of her with his sword gleaming in his hand. She gave thought to helping him seeing as it was a trio of Goblin Knights and due to the fact that he must be severely tired but remembered what he had just said and decided to stay out of it.

The twin blade gawked in disbelief as the blade master began his attack. Despite the fatigue, he was swift. More so even than she remembered. His blade parried blow after blow relentlessly and then attacked in the same manner. It was actually quite a spectacle to see him maneuver the sword in such a fashion. There were times though when she felt as though she should run up an help. The two most urgent ones were when a sword worked its way into his left shoulder and then when another managed to slice alongside his right ribcage. Even as she had grasped her two blades, she had seen a perseverance in him that forced her to leave her blades in their sheaths. The blade master continued to attack and defend regardless of the injuries that plagued him. Suddenly she saw one of the goblins fall, then another. Moments later she saw him do something strange. He had leapt back and with his sword behind him. The blade scraped against the stone floor as he dashed forward. Then suddenly his blade leapt forward from the ground in a snakelike manner. The blade zigzagged rapidly towards the goblin and then suddenly, Zhirin was walking back towards her.

Larissa saw the blood dripping onto the floor from his left arm and gasped. She ran forward and stopped just in front of him. The twin blade placed one of her hands on his wounded shoulder and watched as he winced. She cast a Repth and watched as the blood seeped back into his skin as the blue light washed over his body. Zhirin thanked her and brushed himself off from the battle. Mostly water dripped down from him and he realized how cold he really was. Larissa also took notice that she too was wet and shivered as her drenched clothes chilled her body. Zhirin looked at her and motioned his head towards the other end of the corridor. He watched as she smiled and nodded. They both walked away from the battle scene in search of their friends but they were both thinking different things as they walked.