Berd has been here before.

Vast structures of ice.  Near unendurable heat.  Archons moving about, passing through spaces which are divided from the drake by walls which are as thin as the gossamer threads of an orb web, and sumultaneously as massive as entire worlds.  Berd is in the specific place and time which had been called the War Room.  It is empty now, the shattered remnants of the crystal columns are gone.  No trace of them, or the attack which laid waste to them, remains.  Nothing.

There is, however, a sort of residual psychic echo of something else.

Seven hundred and forty three Archons have died in this room.  Recently, and painfully.  Berd's mind is filled with their cries.  One word seems to be repeated in every one of those echoes...

Harbonah.

Whorls in the fabric of the universe meld with those from nearby worlds.  Concepts such as space and time are non-constant and, to some extent, overlapping.  Berd uses the confusing geometry of reality's peaks and valleys, coupled with his own cloak, to render his very presence unseen while he hunts for the controls to this world.  In order to prompt Harbonah to listen, he will first need to produce a mailed glove.  A big one, he suspects.

And, of course, not refer to the Archon as 'Harry'.

The echoes of the death-agonies sicken him.  For the sake of everyone, even the Archons, Harbonah must be stopped.  Whether that be through words or action remains to be seen.  As does Berd's capacity to affect such a result.

The drake forges multiple pinprick tunnels to the underflow, to provide both energy and escape, should it become necessary.  One of his minds keeps a close eye upon the wyrmholes.  Another head of the hydra slowly usurps what control it can over the twisted reality of this world.  Others prepare Berd's strongest defenses, mirror-bright shields of mind, body, and spirit, psychic decoys, a cyclotron of preternatural energies slowly revving up within his tiny body. Yet more silently, stealthy search the world itself, hunting for forces, devices, creations of interest.

He finds a perch upon which to sit - something inoffensive, but solid.  It creates the proper message.

And Berd waits to see how solidly he may lay his will upon this many-folded world.

Time, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, passes.

Shapes emerge from the walls around Berd, or rise from the floor.  All of them composed of ice.  Some are simple geometric forms, shifting through various iterations - point, line, square, cube, tesseract, penteract - before crumbling away.  Others are more complex - a tower, inclined at an angle of precisely 3.97°, a tree whose leaves sprout, expand, and fall, spinning to the floor.  A rabbit...

Finally a woman appears, stepping out from behind the tree.  She holds a harp, and she vanishes almost instantly, falling as a shower of ice crystals.  As the crystals fall they seem to whisper a single word, "Bird!"...

One thing becomes clear.  Berd has some limited control over this domain.  The more complexity and control is required, the more difficult it is for the forms to maintain themselves.  He will not be entirely helpless here though.  Wherever "here" is.

A new shape appears in the room.  A wheel of lightning.  This time it is close enough to perceive Berd, and slides through the last few layers until it matches locations exactly...

+ WHY ARE YOU HERE? +

His experimentation finished, his routes of egress planned, prepared, and perceived by at least one of the hydra-mind, Berd considers his next move - making contact.  There are nearly as many as there are worlds (though not here; this place lies outside, within the Underflow itself), but as he considers, he finds it difficult to pin down the best possible route.

How does one approach a creature like Harbonah?

Events, as often they do, spiral away from him as he ruminates, and discovery occurs without prompting.  One of the herenethi...interesting.  The danioti have their purpose, the eshuranti their own, fiery personality...but what of the herenethi?  Thus far, Berd has only spoken with one of theirs of the Nephillim.

He focuses, ensuring a strong front.  It would not do to appear a foolish beast, not now.  His mind remains cloaked, hidden behind curtains of darkness and mirror-bright walls.  And his eyes burn like stars.

Greetings, Archon of the herenethi.  I am Berd.  I seek discourse.  Debate.  And perhaps understanding.

+ I AM RAZIEL. +, replies the herenethi, and then Berd's words register, + YOU ARE THE DESPISED ONE? +, the Archon asks, sparks leaping from it to the floor, and to the walls around it.  + I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE LARGER. +

+ NO MATTER.  HARBONAH WILL REWARD ME FOR DISCOVERING YOU HERE, IN THE FORTRESS.  YOU ARE FOOLISH TO COME HERE.  THIS IS HARBONAH'S STRONGHOLD, AND YOU WILL NOT BE PERMITTED TO LEAVE. +

I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Raziel.  He knew a Raziel, once.  Nothing like this one, of course.  Berd listens politely, dipping his head at his 'naming'.  I have been so called, he admits.

I am not here with the intention of leaving, Berd notes.  All the while, one of the hydra probes 'about' the creature, searching to see if it attempts to make contact of others...and if so, whether said contact would be blocked.  Of course, while you have discovered me, you do not know my true intentions, he continues.  But by all means, summon Harbonah hastily.  A deliberate choice of words.

Call him here, and never know why.  Berd's eyes sparkle, and he raises his head.  Or perhaps Harbonah will disseminate the information once he gleans it from me?  Is this not his way, to share information freely?

The Archon says nothing for a few moments, as electric serpents of green lightning writhe across its form.  Finally, though, it does speak, + TELL ME WHY YOU ARE HERE, AND I WILL DECIDE WHETHER, OR NOT, YOU ARE WORTHY OF HARBONAH'S ATTENTION. +

Raziel moves a little nearer, and shrinks somewhat.  + FOR THE MOMENT, THOUGH, YOU DO HAVE MY ATTENTION.  WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE?  IS IT THAT YOU WISH TO JOIN FORCES WITH HARBONAH?  OR WILL YOU REQUEST MERCY, WHETHER FOR YORSELF, OR FOR YOUR MINIONS?  HAVE YOU, PERHAPS, BECOME INSANE, AND BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN ASSAULT HARBONAH, HERE, IN A PLACE OF POWER? +

Berd, perched on the crystal outcropping, rears his head back, an amused smile dancing on his narrow-snouted features.  I thank you, Raziel.  Calm discourse is in short supply these days, I find.

Join Harbonah?  No.  The drake grows more serious.  Neither do I come to assault him - were that the case, I would have arrived in a different fashion.  As for mercy?  The little dragon cocks an eyeridge.  I think we can both agree that requesting that particular gift from Harbonah would be fruitless.

No, I come to speak of this war.  Of its costs.  To seek...a bridge, perhaps, between myself and Harbonah.  Or, perhaps, between myself and other archons - Harbonah's people, so to speak.  The Seraphim.  His eyes burn as he leans foward, but without threat.

I seek understanding.

I do not search for your strategies, your secrets.  I only wonder why.  Why do you overturn the Myriad Worlds?  Why do you grind millions of creatures beneath blade, flame, and lightning?  Why do you fight?

Raziel's answer is, perhaps, only to be expected.  + BECAUSE WE CAN. +

The Archon falls silent, and for a few moments it seems that it will say no more.

Finally, it decides that saying a little more might be reasonable, + AND... BECAUSE WE REQUIRE THESE WORLDS.  MOST ARE UNSUITED TO OUR NEEDS, BUT THEY CAN BE ADAPTED.  THEY BECOME BROOD WORLDS AND FORTRESSES. +

+ ONCE WE HAVE DESTROYED THAT WHICH HOLDS THEM IN SHAPE. +

Interesting.  Berd ponders for a long moment, considering the answer.  I thank you for your candor.  I have more questions, if I may?  You, of course, may ask in return.  I would not wish this to be an unfair exchange.  I would rather stick to considerations of reasons at the moment - I will not insult you by asking after your strategies.

More consideration follows.  Then,

Raziel, I find myself confused.  You say you destroy because you can.  Can you not also withhold destruction?  If so, why one and not the other?  There is no wheedling in Berd's question, no insinuation.  He merely seeks comprehension.  And, perhaps, for the creature to find a greater understanding within itself.

And once you have destroyed that which holds the Myriad Worlds in shape, all will collapse, he muses.  You will have your brood worlds, and your fortresses, indeed.

What then?

Then concern sparks in his mental voice.  And...against whom do these fortresses protect you?

+ THE FORTRESSES ARE BUILT FOR DEFENCE AGAINST OTHER FACTIONS, OR AGAINST OTHER CREATURES WHICH WOULD FIGHT US: YOU, YOUR MINIONS, OTHER, OLDER ENEMIES. +

Raziel starts to move, following a circular path.  It resembles nothing so much as a human pacing back and forth as he speaks.  + A FORTRESS ALSO REPRESENTS PRESTIGE AND STRENGTH.  IT IS A LOCATION WHERE A POWERFUL ARCHON CAN SUMMON UNDERLINGS, TO ISSUE ORDERS AND RECEIVE REPORTS.  THE CONSTRUCT REMINDS THOSE UNDERLINGS OF THEIR PLACE.  IT ALSO REMINDS RIVALS THAT THEY WOULD BE WISE NOT TO CHALLENGE THE ONE WHO DWELLS THERE. +

+ BROOD WORLDS PRODUCE MORE ARCHONS, WHICH IN TURN PROVIDE NEW FOLLOWERS FOR POWERFUL ARCHONS, AND RIVALS FOR WEAKER ONES.  EVENTUALLY WEAK ARCHONS ARE REPLACED BY STRONGER ONES.  IT IS THE WAY OF OUR KIND. +

The pacing stops, + YOU ASK WHY WE DESTROY...  WE DESTROY BECAUSE WE NEED TO ALTER THE WORLDS TO SUIT OUR NEEDS. +

+ WHY DID YOU DESTROY HOSK?  THE ARCHONS THERE WERE YOUNG, NEONATAL EVEN.  THEY HAD NOT YET SELECTED FACTIONS.  BY SMASHING THE WORLD, YOU CERTAINLY ROBBED YOURSELF OF ALLIES, AS WELL AS ENEMIES.  YOU ALSO PROVIDED MANY RECRUITS FOR THE SERAPHIM CAUSE.  HOSK HAS BECOME A RALLYING CRY FOR US. +

Understood, Raziel.  The fortresses are integral parts of your society.  They serve their purposes as gathering points, defensive structures, social facillitators.  They are your homes, then.  Your cities.

He falls silent, then, when the Archon speaks of Hosk.  For a long moment, he considers the proper course.  Then Berd releases strategem and manipulation, lets go his plans.  Raziel, it was not I who destroyed Hosk.  A renegade of my own faction took it upon himself to attack that world.  We sought to stop him, but failed.  The drake's eyes dim, their glittering slowing as he remembers their panicked attempts to halt Dorian's plot, his own lack of capacity to block the spell, Luke's failure and agonizing near-destruction.  It must have hurt your people terribly.  Understandable, how it galvanized them to battle.  A war of conquest became a war of survival.

He remembers waking in agony, fallen far from before.  Reaching out, seeking to recapture his strength from those who had taken it.  And a world dies screaming.

I truly regret.

I, too, have lost children in wars.  Many, many children.  He lapses into silence for several heartbeats.  Then, And it perpetuates.

A single glittering eye fixes on the Archon.  You say you require the worlds you destroy.  But what of the people upon them?  Do they not require them, as well?

+ INTERESTING.  WE TOO HAVE RENEGADES WHO TURN AGAINST THEIR OWN FACTIONS.  USUALLY TO FURTHER THEIR OWN CAUSES.  PRESUMABLY YOU DESTROYED THIS RENEGADE AS A WARNING TO OTHERS WHO MIGHT BE TEMPTED TO EMULATE SUCH REBELLION. +

The Archon stops "pacing", + YES, WE REQUIRE THESE WORLDS.  THE NEEDS OF THE LOWER CREATURES WHICH INHABIT THEM ARE NO MORE TO US THAN THE NEEDS OF A PLANT, OR OF A PEBBLE, ARE TO THOSE CREATURES. +

+ ARCHONS WILL CONQUER AND TRANSFORM THIS REALITY, AS THEY HAVE DONE TO OTHERS BEFORE IT.  THIS IS ORDAINED. +

'As they have done before'.  Worrisome, that.  Of course, they had to come from somewhere.  Were they not driven forth, they may very well have come to colonize.

The renegade acted out of madness and grief.  He has been...imprisoned by his own creation.  Hopefully, in time, he will find some measure of peace within himself, and possibly be safe to release.

You have renegades as well.  I have, of course, heard of the Nephillim.

He pauses to consider his next foray.  The creature makes a valid argument...were it not for a few, key issues.

These lower creatures, however, value plants and pebbles.  They need them to survive.  Were they to obliterate these things, they themselves would perish.  But you have no need for plants, pebbles, or people, do you?

The Nephillim would argue differently, I suspect.  But I do not speak to the Nephillim now, I speak to Raziel of the herenethi.

What if, Raziel, it could be determined that plants, pebbles, and people had value to you?  What then?

+ THEN I WOULD SEIZE THEM FOR MYSELF, AND HOLD THEM AGAINST ANY WHO WOULD TAKE THEM. +

The Archon suddenly seems to revolve faster, + STILL, YOU HAVE GIVEN ME USEFUL INFORMATION.  HUMANS REQUIRE PLANTS AND PEBBLES TO SURVIVE... DESTROYING THOSE MIGHT BE A MORE EFFICIENT METHOD OF ENDING ANY RESISTANCE FROM A WORLD'S INHABITANTS. +

I SHALL PRESENT THE IDEA TO HARBONAH.  PERHAPS I WILL BE GRANTED A REWARD. +

Another might curse their misstep.  Berd does not.  Every bit of information he bestows upon Raziel increases the archon's knowledge.  Knowledge that may, in some way, bring about a change in the creature's philosophy.  If it does not...well, knowledge that plants and stones are necessary to humans is almost certainly part of the Archon database by now.  After all, they did hold Cyan for some time, and foodstuffs would have been necessary.  Raziel might well find itself at a sharp end of a stick for wasting Harbonah's time.

Cyan....

Abruptly one of Berd's minds, still under the cloaking, peels away to investigate a nearby issue, it's concentration narrowed to a single, furious point.  The other minds await answers with barely leashed patience, returning to their own situation and work.

Indeed?  Well, I wish you the best of luck with your revelation to Harbonah.  Will you be leaving now, or shall we discuss further? Berd inquires, then continues as if the answer were the latter.

And what would you do, after seizing these things of value, Raziel?  What would you experience?  What joys would this bring you, what pain would this hold at bay?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:57, Mon 16 Mar 2009.

Raziel is silent for a short while, while electricity flares and pulses across across it.  Then, having considered its hypothetical options, + IN MY POSSESSION THEY WOULD BECOME A WEAPON.  WHOEVER HOLDS A THING CONTROLS THOSE WHO DEPEND ON THAT THING.  OR DESTROYS THEM. +

+ IF HUMANS NEED PLANTS AND PEBBLES, WHAT HAPPENS IF THEY ARE PREVENTED FROM HAVING THEM? +

I see.  But you have sidestepped the question, Raziel.  What joys would this bring you?  What sorrow would this present?  Berd considers.  Perhaps your answers would be, 'the joy of controlling something I did not control before', and 'the sorrow of losing to an Archon with greater assets than myself'.

I believe there is more to life than such things, but to each their own, of course.

He ponders for several long moments, humming a curious song in his dragon-voice.  One of Cyan's, naturally.  Then, You ask me why people require plants and pebbles.  There are many reasons, some simple to explain.  Consumption - food, nourishment.  A place to stand, to put one's feet, for not all creatures can fly within the void, nor swim within the Underflow.

But there are other reasons, Raziel.  Would you know them as well?  Berd glances around the chamber.  They must be shown, for they are difficult to comprehend.  If you desire, I can attempt this.  We would need to travel, of course - I cannot show you mind-to-mind, and I do not believe you would allow such an intrusion.

+ I, RAZIEL, WOULD POSSESS THEM, AND OTHER ARCHONS WOULD NOT.  THERE IS THE JOY.  POWER.  DOMINION.  OWNERSHIP.  CONTROL! + the Archon's voice rises in volume as it speaks, and then drops, to little more than a whisper, + THERE IS NOTHING ELSE IN LIFE? +

It listens to Berd's words, and finally says, + KNOWLEDGE IS IMPORTANT, BUT ONLY AS A MEANS TO GAIN MORE CONTROL.  I WILL SEE THESE THINGS AND, THEREBY, GAIN KNOWLEDGE. +

Berd had anticipated as much an answer.  He had not, however, considered that there might be doubt.  A lever, he knows, that can move the world.  Archimedes would be pleased.

Gaining knowledge is, indeed, a valid goal, he agrees.  In a way.  There is pleasure to be had in knowing something, is there not?  Follow, then, Raziel of the Herenethi.  I must leave this place hidden, of course, else I will have a trail of your associates...which I do not believe you desire.

This is to be yours, and yours alone.  For now.

The drake expands his cloak to include the archon, then falls into the Underflow, knowing full well the creature will follow.

You are accustomed to this place, are you not?  I have noted your kind's skill at traversing its flow.  How does it feel, Raziel, to enter this place underneath it all, to glide through its currents, to study the intelligences which swim through its depths?

How does it feel to enter this place I term the Underflow?  And what is your name for it, I wonder?

For me...it is as though I return home - somewhere safe, somewhere familiar.

+ THIS PLACE, THIS UNDERFLOW, IS NO DIFFERENT TO MY KIND THAN ANY OTHER PLACE.  WE SPEND AS MUCH TIME HERE AS ELSEWHERE.  THERE ARE SOME WHO NEVER LEAVE IT, EVEN BRIEFLY. +  the Archon moves easily alongside Berd, with no more difficulty than a fish in still water.

+ CARE MUST BE TAKEN, THOUGH, AS I AM SURE YOU KNOW.  OUR HISTORY IS FILLED WITH TALES OF MINDS WHICH WERE SCATTERED BY THE CRETH, OR DRAWN INTO THE VOID. THERE ARE SOME WHO SAY THAT THOSE WHO CHOOSE TO LIVE HERE HAVE SUCCUMBED TO A KIND OF MADNESS. +

+ THE THINGS WHICH SWIM IN THE DEPTHS, AND DEVOUR DEAD WORLDS, ARE THE LEAST OF A TRAVELLER'S WORRIES HERE.  FOR THIS REASON, WE HAVE ALWAYS ADVISED CAUTION TO YOUNG ARCHONS ABOUT TO ENTER IT FOR THE FIRST TIME. +

Curious.  I was not aware of the potential for madness, here.  *amusement*  Then again, for a time I, myself, was quite mad.  Brought about by my fall, but perhaps perpetuated by the forces of the Underflow.  Perfection, lost long ago, now eludes me.  Information freely given, in exchange for Raziel's thoughts.

Madness.  The Logrus - a whorl in the Underflow, grown in power to a veritable torrent.  Was it possible that other whorls, smaller whorls, drew in travellers and spat them out, changed, broken by their experience, and yet gifted with power?

Might there be lesser cousins of the Logrus existing within the Underflow?  Not like its bastard children, calcified by the Pattern's order more and more the further one travelled through the Myriad Worlds, but actual pure forces of chaos, yet smaller, less localized?  Less...permanent?

Something to explore in the future.  Not now.

You are wise to care for your younglings.  And yet, there is such competition between your people.  How do you reconcile this?  Where are the lines drawn?  Something Berd has always found interesting, and faintly disturbing.

As he swims the brilliant river, his mind's eye seeks a particular world - one with which he has only passing familiarity from a visitor and a native.  Cyan has been there, once.  And he has touched the mind, read the signature of one of its luminaries.  Tasted the power of one of its creations.

He does not believe it to be destroyed, nor fallen to preparations for war.  Not yet.  In this land, he knows, there will always be beauty.

+ IT IS THE NATURE OF THINGS.  THERE ARE FORCES HERE WHICH ARE MORE POWERFUL THAN MERE MINDS CAN COMPREHEND.  WHAT THEN, CAN A MIND DO TO DEFEND AGAINST THOSE THINGS?  THE ONLY TRUE DEFENCE LAYS IN AVOIDANCE.  IF A THING CAN NOT REACH ITS TARGET, THEN IT CAN NOT DO IT HARM. +

+ BUT NOT ALL OF THOSE THINGS ARE WITHOUT MINDS OF THEIR OWN.  SOME WILL SEEK OUT THEIR VICTIMS.  IN THOSE CASES, AVOIDANCE MIGHT BE VERY DIFFICULT. +

Berd's question regarding boundaries and the care of younger Archons, brings a laugh which booms through the Underflow like thunder directly overhead, + THE LINE, AS YOU PUT IT, IS DRAWN WHERE THE VICTOR DRAWS IT.  IS IT NOT SO IN ALL PLACES. + Raziel answers, simply.

The pair veer suddenly, and a world rises towards them, like a bubble from the depths of some ocean...

More information regarding the Underflow - Berd files it away for future reference.  Regarding the Archons...

Not in all places, no.  There have been, and will be, other ways of drawing lines and boundaries.  But that is not what we are here to discuss.  Not yet, in any case.

The world expands before them.

I ask that you respect the beings of this world while with me.  Observe, but do not interfere.  It may be that we will discuss with one or more of them ideas of interest to you.  But we will not harm them, nor will we harm the world.

One gleaming eye fixes upon Raziel.  This is not negotiable.

In a flare of invisible energies, cloaked to the naked eye, Berd and the Archon explode into the sky high above a brilliant, cerulean ocean.  Ahead, the sun glares into their vision, its rays shimmering atop the blue expanse.  Below it, mountains rise, pale and icy atop, then growing verdant robes that coat the hills below.  The trees grow tall, as tall as the redwoods of earth, reaching up to the sun, above.  The forest flows down to the coastline, where a coral reef surrounds a golden, sandy bay.

While much of the forest remains pristine, a section before the bay shows signs of habitation.  Structures dot the tops of the trees, small houses and homes.  Others rise from the ground, below - almost as if part of the forest, rather than an invasion.   An aircar hums on its way in the distance, fans nearly silent, its small exhaust emission-free of all but water.  And shadows move upon the golden-sugar beach - several humanform shapes, going about their business of setting up for the day, some having already begun their 'work' before the sun had risen.

Welcome to Escher.

Raziel blurs and dwindles away, becoming no more than a spark, which expands to become a tall, humanoid form, clothed in lightning.  Its feet touch the ground, and the Archon looks about, with evident interest.

+ I WILL NOT HARM THE CREATURES HERE, UNLESS I AM ATTACKED BY THEM, IN WHICH CASE I WILL USE WHATEVER FORCE SEEMS NECESSARY TO DEFEND MYSELF. +

The creature's attention seems suddenly drawn to the highlands and forests further away from the shoreline.  + ARE YOU AWARE THAT THERE IS A PORTAL HERE?  AN OPENING TO ANOTHER WORLD.  IT IS CLOSED AT THIS TIME, BUT I SENSE THAT ARCHONS HAVE BEEN HERE. +

I would expect nothing else.  Self-defense is something Berd well understands.  I am aware archons have been here in the past, but not as to the specifics.  A portal?  Have they come more than once?  I know of only one instance.

A glimpse of a memory in the fractured mind of his poor child - tinted glasses fallen in the waves, the smokey threads of blood tainting the pure water.

Berd bites back his fury, relaxes his spirit.  One mind remains alert, hard as diamond.  Prepared.  The others focus on diplomacy, on philosophy.  On forgiveness.

The drake turns toward the sunrise as he wings down to the beach, remaining cloaked from vision for the moment.  Observe your surroundings, Raziel.  Consider what you see.  Of course, you will see it from a single point of view - your own.  Berd's bejeweled eyes sweep over the beach, the waves, the sunrise...over the small groups of artists, gathered to observe, record, create.

He waits.  Patience will be necessary.  This could take a long, long time.

+ I WOULD SPECULATE THAT THE GENERAL WAS HERE, AND RELATIVELY RECENTLY.  I CAN FEEL HER SERVANTS, THE TWO TRAITORS.  THIS WORLD IS FILLED WITH THE TRACES OF THEIR PRESENCE. + howls Raziel, reducing in size until it is no bigger than the drake which accompanies it.

+ BUT OTHERS HAVE ALSO BEEN HERE, MANY OTHERS, OVER A LONG PERIOD OF TIME.  THE PORTAL IS PROBABLY THEIR DOING, SINCE IT FEELS OLDER THAN THE FADING AURAS OF THE TRAIRORS. +

+ WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THIS? +

The Archon stops, hovering before a column of stone which stands among the trees, its surface carved with dozens of bas-relief images.  Most of the designs follow a common theme - men battling mythical beasts, while a woman often watches from a little way off, usually bound to some solid object.  The images are worn, and partly obscured by moss, but they are still recogniseable.

Most of the monsters appear to be larger relatives of the Berd.

More archons, here?  Interesting.  One of the hydra-mind peels off, searching for these traces, seeking to isolate them from the world's natural emmenations.  Now that Berd knows they exist...

The purpose?  Berd stares critically at the sculpture.  Undoubtably this was a column, a weight-bearing pillar for a structure at one point in time.  The pictures, however, were created to make it more pleasing to the eye, to bring forth emotions based upon the viewer's past relations with common stories.

The pillar carries poor likenesses of his son, he judges.  But that is legend for you.

Tell me, Raziel - and this is relevant to our journey - what makes you feel?

The Archon stops dead and falls silent for a while, save for the crackling of lightning across its form.

Then, + THAT WOULD DEPEND ON WHICH EMOTION YOU ARE DISCUSSING.  A LESSER ARCHON IMPEDING MY EFFORTS CAUSES WHAT HUMANS WOULD CALL ANGER.  THE SUCCESS OF A RIVAL MAKES ME FEEL ENVY AND ANGER.  THE PRESENCE OF HARBONAH INSPIRES FEAR. +

Raziel starts to orbit the pillar, and sparks leap from the creature to the surface of the stone, revealing the presence of minute flecks of copper.

+ THERE ARE IMPURITIES IN THE MATERIAL.  THE DEFEAT AND HUMILIATION OF A RIVAL GIVES PLEASURE.  IS THIS WHAT YOU MEAN? +

Berd slowly nods his head.  Understandable, these things.  And what, Raziel, makes you feel pleasure?  No doubt the crushing of an enemy, but are there other occurances in your life, times that have not involved diminishing another, when you have felt pleasure?  Pride?  Relief?  Or even comfort?

He turns away from the archon to face the pillar.  This pillar...do you Archons have stories?  I am certain you do.  Let me place this in a frame of reference.  No doubt you now speak of the Worldkiller, tell stories of how he destroyed your nursery world, murdering untold infants of your kind.  I can guess at what emotions this story engenders.  Rage.  Fear.  Hate.

Imagine, if you would, the Worldkiller dying at the hands of an Archon.  And that being the ending of the story.  What would any Archon feel at hearing this?  Envy, that they were not the one to defeat the Worldkiller?  Perhaps.  Relief, that he would no longer threaten the young?  Pride, that an Archon vanquished such a foe?

Consider a statue built to commemerate this ending.  To remind Archons of the story in its entirety.  What emotions might boil in Archons viewing that statue, of the Worldkiller's defeat?

He returns his gaze to the Archon.  <b>Here, you see images from one of the stories of these people.  Here, one of their own defeats a savage beast, to save another.  Had YOU, Raziel, slain the Worldkiller before he destroyed the nursery world, it would have paralleled this image.

This...sculpture evokes the emotions that story engenders in these people.  When they see it, part of them remembers the story.  Remembers the desperation they felt, when they first heard it.  The anticipation.  Then the sudden relief, the pride in this man, exemplary of their race, who saves his people by defeating the beast.  All of these emotions stirred within, simply by looking at a carved column.

His eyes glitter, but his power remains leashed.  This is one aspect of art.

+ YOU SHOULD NOT SPEAK OF THE WORLDILLER.  YOU ARE PART OF HIS ENTOURAGE. + Raziel awings around, almost as if Archons have faces, and it wants to look directly at Berd, + THE LAST THING YOU SHOULD WANT TO DO IS INVOKE THE EMOTIONS THAT HIS NAME ENGENDERS. +

And then the moment passes, and the Archon goes back to its study of the carvings.  + IT IS A MATERIAL REPRESENTATION OF A MOMENT AND A LOCATION, AND OF THE EVENTS THAT OCCURRED AT THAT CONJUNCTION OF TIME AND PLACE. +

+ INTERESTING. +

+ THOUGH IF THEY WANTED TO PRESERVE THIS EVENT, THEY SHOULD HAVE USED A MORE DURABLE MEDIUM.  I COULD DESTROY THIS WITH JUST THE BRIEFEST THOUGHT.  ONE OF THE DANIOTI COULD DO IT ENTIRELY WITHOUT THINKING. +

Hardly in his entourage.  We attempted to prevent it.  Berd's eyes dull.  To my shame, we were too late...my faction has turned from such things, Raziel.  We will not again bring such destruction upon your people, regardless of how the war proceeds.

I tell you this - I feel sorrow such an event transpired.  Yes, sorrow for you and yours.

I would die before I allowed it to happen again.

He regards the pillar silently for a long moment.  Yes.  Easily destroyed.  But it had to be created, did it not, Raziel?  It needed to be shaped - by tools, by hands.  There are limitations to the durability of such materials.

And this is only one such sculpture.  I am certain that if you spend sufficient time in this world, you will see many such creations, each by a different artist, each from a slightly different perspective, evoking slightly different emotions in its viewers.

He slants a glance at the archon.  Do you know why that is, Raziel?

Raziel is silent for a time, contemplating the carved stone or, perhaps, considering Berd's statement about his own feelings regarding the events at Hosk.

Finally the Archon darts upwards, flips into a horizontal position, and descends rapidly to the ground around the pillar.  Further, in fact, it burrows into the earth for a couple of feet.  When it lifts again, the pillar is gone, leaving only a hole in the ground with walls of cooling glass.

+ I DO NOT KNOW WHY HUMANS WOULD CREATE SO MANY.  I WILL TAKE IT FOR FURTHER STUDY. +

If you desire.  Its creator has likely long-since passed away.  But do not harm it, as per our agreement.

Berd flits about before landing on a branch, perching to stare at the archon.  What would Cyan say?  How would she deal with this creature?  The drake cudgels his mind.  Please, daughter.  Show me the way, for I am not what I once was...

Perhaps something of his creation has rubbed off in their time together.  Inspiration strikes.  So you cannot see why so many people would make slightly different interpretations of the same event, Raziel?  I understand.

Consider.  Are your feelings identical to those of other archons?

...or are they unique to you?  The drake arches one eye-ridge, studying the crackling creature.  And if you saw another creating a 'memory', forging a piece of artwork that held its own interpretations of an event, might you be interested creating your own, to show others your special, unique feelings regarding that event?  To let them feel more closely what you feel?  Would that not be interesting, to have others comprehend your feelings, perhaps even feel those feelings themselves, when they regard your...creation?

Berd pauses for a long moment, hoping that might sink in.  Then...

And having created your own interpretation for the world to see...might you then become interested in how others have seen it?  Might you then seek out other people's artwork, to study it, to better understand their interpretations?

Their feelings?

For by understanding that, might you not better understand them?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:35, Mon 01 June 2009.

The Archon is silent for a while, poised motionless in the air.  The sun slides down the sky, and drops below the distant hills, and  stars appear overhead, peeking through breaks in the clouds.  The clouds disperse, until finally the sky is like a sheet of velvet, strewn with with all the gems in the world - in all the worlds.

And then, at what Berd estimates to be about midnight...

+ I BELIEVE I UNDERSTAND.  EVERY CREATURE VIEWS EVENTS FROM ITS OWN PERSPECTIVE.  EVERY UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE IS FILTERED THROUGH A UNIQUE SET OF FEELINGS, AND PLACED IN CONTEXT BY A UNIQUE SET OF EXPERIENCES.  THE PERSPECTIVE, THE FEELINGS, AND THE OLDER EXPERIENCES, ALL SHAPE EACH NEW EXPERIENCE.  THAT, IN TURN, RESHAPES THE PERSPECTIVE AND THE FEELINGS. +

The Archon's voice holds... something, + AND PERSPECTIVE, FEELINGS, AND EXPERIENCE ALL AFFECT HOW A CREATURE EXPRESSES ITSELF.  THOSE EXPRESSIONS ARE THUS UNIQUE TOO.  INFINITE DIVERSITY IN INFINITE COMBINATIONS. +

That something, in Raziel's voice, seems a lot like wonder.

Time flows.  The sun falls, burning the sky, and on the distant beach, the painters seek to capture the moment.  The stars pinwheel above.  And Berd waits.  When necessary, he has patience.  Too much so, at times...but then, when one has eternity, when one has been eternity, what matters a few hours?

Finally, the Archon speaks.  And Berd replies with a voice like a choir of twelve.

YES.

A long moment of silence passes, as the little dragon watches.  He waits.  This is the crucial point - Raziel may use this knowledge in many ways, some contrary to his former purpose, some not.  But whatever comes of this, even if the Archon returns to darkness, Berd is finally satisfied.

He needed to see it happen.  Experience it firsthand.  But these creatures, these Archons - they are not simply a deadly virus upon the Myriad Worlds.  They can change.  They can grow.

They are worthy.

And despite an urge to push, to speak, to make a comment or ask a question beyond his affirmation, the drake waits.  The single word is enough to show Raziel that he, Berd, understands as well - understands the statue, understands the underlying point, understands the Archon as well.

When understanding comes, when one is understood, one is no longer alone.  And when one no longer feels alone...might one grow past a blind need to take, to hold, to control?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:26, Wed 10 June 2009.

Further silence... Raziel is apparently deep in thought.  As immobile as an Archon can ever be.

And then it descends much closer to the ground, and thunder booms out across the world, a continuous peal, like the laughter of some dark god, as bolt after bolt of lightning strikes the earth around the spot where the column had once stood.

When the noise and the glare cease, and the smoke clears, there are two perfectly drawn spirals of cooling glass inlaid in the ground, both centred on the shallow pit which once housed the stone, carefully interleaved with each other, never touching.

+ INTERESTING.  I CONSIDERED HOW WE CAME HERE, TRAVELLING FAR, AND DRAWING IN TO THIS MOMENT WITH INCREASING SPEED, AND THIS IMAGE CAME TO MIND.  TWO LINES PULLED, IRRESISTIBLY, INTO THE CORE. +

+ THERE ARE PLACES WHERE ENTIRE WORLDS ARE BUILT UPON SUCH PROCESSES - FORCES WHICH CAN NOT BE DENIED, WORKING TO CREATE STARS, AND HOLD THEM IN PLACE.  IT HAD NOT OCCURRED TO ME THAT SIMILAR FORCES OPERATE TO GUIDE OUR OWN EXISTENCES. +

Another pause, the only sound the crackling of electricity over the Archon's form, and then it moves to replace the stone at the heart of the design.

+ AND NOW IT IS COMPLETE, I THINK.  AT LEAST, IT SEEMS AS COMPLETE AS IT CAN BE AT THIS TIME.  AND, AT THIS TIME, I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT I WILL TELL HARBONAH OF YOUR PRESENCE IN THE FORTRESS.  AT SOME POINT, I MAY REPORT IT, BUT FOR NOW, I MUST CONSIDER FURTHER WHAT YOU HAVE SAID. +

+ CREATING... THIS... WAS ODDLY SATISFYING. +

Berd stares, fascinated, as the Archon...makes an attempt.  A good one, as it turns out - metaphoric, symbolic.  Powerful in its simplicity.  He nods slowly at Raziel's explanation, his eyes burning with barely leashed interest.  Where will the Archon go from here?  What runs through its alien mind?

Indeed.  Future travellers will come, will see this piece you have created.  They will study it.  Consider the implications.  Place their own views upon it, some of which will no doubt nearly mirror your own.  Awash with curiousity, they will wonder about its creator, how the artist might have captured something that resonates so with their spirits.

There is more to the worlds than simple physics, matter, and energy flow, and yet the patterns echo throughout it all.  'As above, so below.'  You have captured this truth here.

Then the archon takes it a step further, replacing the original carven stone, and Berd falls silent.  There is poetry here, and the herenethi...amazed, Berd realizes Raziel has the eye of an artist.

What you have created...  Berd flits about it, but does not intrude upon the design by landing.  Some may come, drawn by the sound.  And I think when they see what has been wrought here, they will bring more - to study, to interpret.  He chose wisely with the world, Berd sees - in another place, the new sculpture might be torn away for a museum, or reworked into its original shape to 'preserve tradition'.  But this is Escher.

I thank you, Raziel, for your forebearance.  You have taught me much, and for this I am grateful.  The drake cocks his head, landing upon a branch.  I hope to speak to you again in the future, that I may learn more.  And that I may see more of your art.

No empty words.  From Raziel, Berd has relearned hope.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Tue 16 June 2009.

+ I WOULD APPRECIATE FURTHER CONTACT. + Raziel replies, quietly by Archon standards, + I TOO HAVE LEARNED FROM THIS MEETING.  WEIGHING THE POSSIBILITY OF OBTAINING FURTHER KNOWLEDGE AGAINST THE POSSIBILITY OF HARBONAH DISCOVERING OUR CONVERSATION, I BELIEVE THAT THE VALUE OF ADDITIONAL KNOWLEDGE OUTWEIGHS THE POTENTIAL RISK. +

+ ONLY THE TRACKERS KNEW OF YOUR PRESENCE AT THE FORTRESS, AND THEY LACK THE MEANS TO COMMUNICATE THAT INFORMATION, EVEN IF THEY REMEMBER IT STILL.  THEY ARE SIMPLE CREATURES, EXCEPT WITHIN THEIR OWN FIELD. +

The Archon moves, slowly circling its artistry, as if studying it from various angles, + I MAY RETURN TO THE FORTRESS SOON, OR I MAY SEEK PLACES WHERE I CAN LEARN MORE.  THIS IS SOMETHING I NEED TO CONSIDER.  WHAT OF YOURSELF? +
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:37, Fri 17 July 2009.

It is settled, then.  We shall meet again.  Berd studies the Archon, settling his psychic signature further into place.  Given time, he can now locate Raziel across the Myriad Worlds, bespeak him over vast distances through the Underflow.  Sometimes one must risk all for the chance to seize a prize.  His eyes glitter.  Can knowledge of the universe and one's place within it be of lesser worth than any other goal?

The drake unfurls his bejewelled wings, stretching.  That is good news regarding the Trackers.  His eyes darken as he considers the creations, impregnated with a sliver of Cyan in order to better hunt their prey - a clever means of attuning them to her psychic vibrations.  For myself, I must consider.  I meant to speak with Harbonah, to see if we might find some means of halting this war.  I do not know if that is possible, but...  Again he regards the Archon; again his eyes darken, but this time with sorrow.  After meeting you, Raziel, I am more convinced than ever that the conflict must end without further destruction to either side.

It is likely the Archon does not yet feel this, not entirely.  But he might, if he continues to follow his line of thought.  He might.

And so.  I may return to my people, though I will tell them no names lest yours somehow fall from their hands to Harbonah's.  Or I may return to the fortress.  Or...I may consider these things you have shown me here, today.  Again his gaze goes to the sculpture, studying its simple perfection.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:26, Wed 10 Mar 2010.

+ I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT HARBONAH WILL END THIS WAR VOLUNTARILY. + Raziel responds, after brief contemplation.  + NO OTHER LEADER HAS EVER BOUND THE SERAPHIM TOGETHER QUITE SO COHESIVELY AS HARBONAH HAS.  TRUE, SOME OF THAT COHESION STEMS FROM VIOLENCE, AND THE THREAT OF VIOLENCE, BUT MUCH OF IT IS FUELLED BY THE PROMISES OF RICH REWARDS WHICH RESULT FROM TRIUMPH - DOMAINS TO RULE OVER AS WE SEE FIT, TERRITORIES TO EXPLOIT AND CONTROL... ENDLESS SPACE FOR THOSE ARCHONS WHO FIGHT FOR THE SERAPHIM CAUSE, AND NOTHING FOR THE OTHERS. +

+ WITH SUCH PROMISES MADE, HARBONAH SIMPLY CAN NOT AFFORD TO END THE WAR UNTIL THOSE THINGS CAN BE GIVEN TO THE SERAPHIM.  TO DO SO WOULD MEAN REVOLT AND DESTRUCTION. +

There is a low rumble of thunder from the Archon, a sigh, perhaps, + THE SPOILS OF WAR ARE BEST OBTAINED THROUGH VICTORY. +

+ AND FOR ALL THAT WE SERAPHIM MIGHT CLAIM THAT IT THIS WAR IS A CRUSADE, A JIHAD, IT IS, IN THE END, A WAR OVER TERRITORY. +

Berd's head droops.  And yet, Harbonah offers nothing in the end.  For already there is endless space within even one of the Myriad Spheres, and your people are dissatisfied with even that.

Even if he gains what he seeks, how long before your people begin to battle again?  If borders are expanded, soon the desire grows to match.  This is the way with all people, not only yours.

And the Seraphim will hunt down those who are different.  The Nephillim, for example.

All that will remain will be war.  Forever.

Berd heaves a sigh, vapours rising from his muzzle.  As a drizzle commences - nothing to one of the herenethi - his eyes stare into infinity.  This is my issue, Raziel.  There is no true 'winner' in this conflict.  If we win - less likely, I admit - it will be at a terrible cost, not the least of which will be the utter destruction of the Seraphim - for I cannot see your people surrendering.  If you win, all of this will cease to exist, and from what I have seen, nothing shall remain but eternal war in an ever changing, ever twisting infinity, where nothing is stable, with no room for growth.

He closes his brilliant eyes.  Only by stopping the war can these fates be avoided.  And yet how?  Kill Harbonah?  Even if I chose to do so and succeeded, another would likely rise to take his place, or the Seraphim would fracture into a dozen factions...and the war would continue.

The eyes open.  A war over territory, you said.  Does the key lie here?

Abruptly Berd turns away from Raziel, considering.  Unfair of me, Raziel.  I have asked much of you, about yourself, yet given little in return.

If you have time, there is something I would show you.  The drake's eyes glitter as he stares through the myriad spheres, seeking one in particular - a very familiar one.  It is a small place, of little import to the universe, but of great import to me.

Raziel turns away (if such a term can be used of a creature which does not seem to possess a front or back, in any easily determined sense of the word) from the newly created artwork, + THE WAR WOULD CONTINUE, EVEN WITHOUT HARBONAH.  MY PEOPLE HAVE SEEN WHAT THERE IS TO BE GAINED, AND THEY WILL NOT EASILY FORGET THAT VISION.  YET WITHOUT HARBONAH'S OVERWHELMING AND UNIFYING CONTROL OVER THE FACTIONS, IT IS LIKELY THAT THEY WOULD TEND TO FIGHT AMONG THEMSELVES.  THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE RESULTING FROM SUCH WARFARE MIGHT BE FAR LESS THAN THE DIRECT DAMAGE PRODUCED BY AN ASSAULT ON A WORLD. +

The Archon shrinks, until it is no larger than Berd, + I FEAR THAT SUCH AN INTER-FACTION WAR WILL RESULT, WHATEVER HAPPENS.  IF YOU CAN NOT BRING DOWN HARBONAH, THEN IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THREE OR FOUR POWEFUL ARCHONS MANAGE TO SET ASIDE THEIR DIFFERENCES LONG ENOUGH TO DO IT. +

+ HARBONAH PROBABLY KNOWS THIS, AND IT IS LIKELY THAT THOUGHT WHICH DRIVES HIM, EVER FASTER, TOWARDS HIS GOAL. +

+ THIS PLACE YOU SPEAK OF... IS IT AS INTERESTING AS THIS ONE HAS BEEN? +  The herenethi can not conceal its curiosity...

Berd things furiously on Raziel's words.  The answer lies within them, he is certain.  From where did the Archons originate?  What if they could find a way back into that place?  Did it still exist?

I would have your people cease this war entirely...but I can see it would require a major shift in their way of thinking.  Such shifts are not impossible, but remain unlikely, and difficult to achieve.  An understatement, to be sure.

How?  How to stop the war?

As to the other place...  Berd breathes out slowly, amusement colouring the smoke with hints of fuschia.  All places can be interesting, though not to all people.  Subjective preferences, yes?  The drake ponders for a long moment.  It is precious to me, and of great import.  And yes, there are things you might find very interesting - possibly upon the level of what little we have seen here.  I believe it might capture your attention.

Follow, if you would!

With that, the drake dives deeply, falling out of reality's grasp into the void beneath the Myriad Worlds, then spearing into the Underflow like a kingfisher into a pond.

The Underflow seems different as Berd descends into it.  More turbulent...

Raziel moves closer, + WE MUST MAKE HASTE.  SOMETHING IS COMING.  NOT ARCHONS, I THINK, BUT ONE OF THE THINGS WHICH LIVES HERE.  IT MAY DECIDE TO DO US HARM IF IT SENSES US.  OR IT MAY NOT... AND STILL DO HARM BY THE SIMPLE ACT OF PASSING. +

So the two fall through the Underflow, seeking a place that Berd knows.  The currents are disrupted, though, and the journey takes longer than expected.

+ IT IS BEHIND US, THOUGH I SUSPECT IT DOES NOT KNOW WE ARE HERE.  I BELIEVE WE ARE BENEATH ITS NOTICE.  WHICH WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE, OF COURSE, IF WE ARE CONSUMED WITHOUT EVEN BEING DISCOVERED. +

Finally, Berd finds what he searches for, and rises towards it like a gleaming bubble emerging from the darkest of ocean depths.  Beneath and behind something passes, a shadow something, large as a world and shaped like fear.  In the wake of its passing, Berd and Raziel struggle to maintain their course.

Finally they are cast out of the Underflow, like storm-tossed mariners on the shore of some ocean.

They are in a mist-shrouded forest, and there is a cabin close by.  In front of the cabin is a giant spiderweb, suspended between two trees, and seemingly constructed of glass.  It is wet with dew, and dead leaves cling to its surface.  Closer examination reveals that large parts of the brittle structure are cracked or broken, but enough remains to give an indication of its original form.

Berd peers 'over his shoulder' as he rises from the flow into the proper world, his eyes wide and whirling.  Too close.  The Underflow grows more threatening by the day - ancient beings move, perhaps disturbed by the travel of vast armies...

And into the world.

Materializing before the shattered remains of the spiderweb, Berd stares at it sadly for a long moment, wings beating frantically.  Creation of one of the creatures of a world the Seraphim sought to conquer.  Beautiful creatures...but not why I am here.  One of his minds begins to draw out a memory of its former glory, focusing on the details.  Whirling in the air, Berd shakes off the last of his malaise and turns to the structure in the middle of the clearing.

I spent a great deal of time upon this world.  Insignificant, by the standards of most - far from great hubs or fonts of power.  Here, I raised the child of my spirit, forged of dust and sunlight by my mind.  My own daughter.  The one you may have known as The General.

Longing, brilliant eyes study the small cottage.  Berd breathes out a small, flickering cloud.  Lightning crackles from its base, then the scintillating creation disperses into mist, then sparkles, then...gone.  And the door to the cottage swings open.

+ THE INHABITANTS OF THE UNDERFLOW ARE SELDOM CONCERNED BY THE MOVEMENT OF LESSER CREATURES.  THEY ARE ONLY PERIPHERALLY AWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF SUCH CREATURES.  THEY FEED ON DEAD WORLDS, AND OTHER CREATURES ARE TAKEN ENTIRELY BY ACCIDENT. +

Raziel glides closer to the cabin, rotating faster.  Sparks flare from the Archon's surface, crackling through the damp air.

+ THIS INSIGNIFICANT DWELLING WAS ONCE THE GENERAL'S HOME?  THAT IS INTERESTING, YES. +

+ HARBONAH HAS, OCCASIONALLY, EXPRESSED AN INTEREST IN DISCOVERING HER ORIGINS.  NOW I KNOW SOMETHING WHICH HE DOES NOT, AND I FIND THAT I AM NOT, AT THIS TIME, INCLINED TO PASS ON THE INFORMATION. +

Berd files away the information regarding the creatures of the Underflow, and considers the possibility of the Gatherer.  Was that, perhaps, where it was found?  Small to begin with - a child stolen from its parents, marooned upon the world, slowly growing as it consumed?

I thank you, Raziel.  This house...this home has little to no strategic value, but rather holds much personal interest to me.  I would not see it destroyed.

My daughter...the General...I am unsure if she even recalls it.  Her mind is damaged - badly - her memories in disarray.  He sighs once, deeply, and with a flick of his tail to Raziel, flits within the rustic cabin.

Within is the same living and kitchen area as before - out of habit, Berd banishes the dust with a thought - and, as always, the paintings.  Paintings on walls, on easels.  Paintings in watercolour, in oil, art in mixed media, in charcoal.  Paintings of lost lands, of people (alien and human both), of Berd himself.  All in the same style - Cyan's style - but demonstrating a growth of skill, of eye, of artistic expression itself.

These are her works.  She, like you, was an artist, though of a different sort.  I say was, for since Harbonah shattered her, she has not put brush to paper.  Has shown no desire, even after returning to her own mind.  Berd hangs his head.  That part of her may be forever broken.

She sang once, as well.  Created music.  Tiny sprites materialize, male and female.  Like brilliant, dancing comets, they spiral to the tall, free-standing harp in the corner - Berd decides for them that it remains in tune, and the twain flit from spring to spring, plucking out a complex, sorrowful song, whispering of evil ascendent, of terrible loss, but ending with a refrain of hope.  A Thousand Tears - her work, inspired by the fall of Menegroth.  The little dragon lands on the back of a chair, its wood well-worn from the grip of his claws, and hangs his head, eye dull.  Though she has regained her harp, my daughter has ceased to sing.  And a little more light dies in the universe.  The war steals from us more than it gives.

This, too, Harbonah has wrought. 

+ THE LIGHT DIES, LITTLE BY LITTLE.  HARBONAH IS NOT EVEN AWARE OF THE SPARK, AND YET IT IS EXTINGUISHED AT HIS COMMAND. +  Raziel's voice is quiet again, thoughtful sounding.

+ MORE ENERGY IS REQUIRED FOR CREATION THAN FOR DESTRUCTION, YET CREATION GIVES FAR MORE BACK TO THE WORLD.  THE ENERGY OF CREATION IS NOT USED, BUT... REDIRECTED.  IT BECOMES SOMETHING ELSE.  SOMETHING GREATER THAN THE ORIGINAL ENERGY AND MATERIALS. +

The voice rises again, + I AM FILLED WITH SORROW THAT YOUR DAUGHTER SINGS NO MORE.  I HAVE HEARD THE SONGS OF THE DEHUDAR... I DO NOT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO CALL THEM... THE WORLD IS COMPOSED OF TINY PARTICLES, WHICH ARE COMPOSED, IN TURN, OF YET SMALLER PARTICLES.  THE SMALLEST OF ALL ARE THE DEHUDAR, SO SMALL THAT THEY CAN BARELY BE SAID TO EXIST. +

+ YET, AS THEY MOVE UPON THEIR PATHS, THEY VIBRATE.  THE ARCHONS CAN, IF CONDITIONS ARE RIGHT, AND IF WE SO CHOOSE, HEAR THOSE VIBRATIONS.  THE UNIVERSE IS BUILT UPON A SONG - THE SONG OF THE DEHUDAR IS PART OF ALL THAT EXISTS.  SONG IS FUNDAMENTAL TO EVERYTHING.  +

+ BUT SONG HAS BEEN STOLEN FROM YOUR DAUGHTER.  AND HARBONAH WAS PROBABLY ENTIRELY UNAWARE OF HER SONG.  SUCH WASTE IS FOOLISH. +

You hear the song of the universe, Raziel.  Fortunate - few races are so lucky.  But all races, somewhere within where the light lies, can feel that song resonate within them, within others, should they tune themselves to hear.

He stares sadly at the forgotton, forlorn artwork, a few pieces half-finished, possibly never now to be completed.  I thank you for your compassion.  As would my daughter, were she here.  If she even comprehends what she has lost.  Foolish.  Waste.  Loss.  All these things.

Creation gives, yes.  It inspires.  It grows.  Destruction is necessary to keep it within balance, but balance is now lost and the universe slides towards destruction.

Harbonah...does not understand.  He has not seen.  He cares nothing for the song, for the light, for he has never experienced it, I suspect.  I wish I could show him, but I fear he would not listen.  And if he did, still would not comprehend.

I can hope, though.  That is why I was in his stronghold - to meet with him, to seek some sort of understanding, to see if it would be possible to end this.

He casts his burning eyes upon the crackling herenethi.  Privilaged was I to have met you, for you have shown me things that give me hope.  You give, Raziel.  You have given back, and the universe is a brighter place for it.

Even if the war does not stop, if the universe shatters, I take hope in what you have shown me.  For it means the light does burn within you, within your people, and even if all falls it will shine.  Feebly in the beginning, perhaps, but shine it will.

A rueful smile displays his needle-teeth.  Of course, I will prevent that fall if I can.

+ AND I SHALL ASSIST YOU, IN ANY WAY THAT LAYS WITHIN MY POWER. + Raziel responds, sounding distinctly angry now.

+ HARBONAH HAS KEPT MUCH FROM OUR PEOPLE, INTENTIONALLY OR NOT.  THERE ARE THINGS WHICH MAY HAVE UNKNOWN AT THE START OF THIS, BUT WHICH HARBONAH MUST HAVE BECOME AWARE OF BY NOW.  IF OTHERS CAN BE MADE AWARE, THEN... +

The Archon pauses, then flares, bright as a sun... + THE SENCATHI! +

+ THE SENCATHI WERE A TYPE OF ARCHON, LIKE THE HERENETHI, OR THE DANIOTI, OR THE ESHURIANTI, BUT FAR FEWER IN NUMBERS.  MOST OF THE LOWER ARCHONS, THE YOUNGER ONES, KNOW NOTHING OF THEM.  I ONLY KNOW OF THEM BECAUSE OF MY PLACE IN HARBONAH's FORTRESS. +

+ SHORTLY AFTER WE FIRST CAME TO THIS UNIVERSE, AFTER WE WERE RELEASED, HARBONAH SLEW THE SENCATHI, ALL OF THEM, IN A SINGLE HOUR.  THEY CLAIMED TO HAVE FOUND OUT SOMETHING ABOUT THE WAR.  HARBONAH DECLARED THEM TRAITORS, PLOTTING TO DESTROY ALL OTHER ARCHONS, AND HAD THEM SWEPT FROM EXISTENCE.  PERHAPS THEY HAD DISCOVERED WHAT I AM NOW SEEING FOR MYSELF. +

About to agree, to question what else Harbonah may have kept secret, Berd freezes as Raziel's output skyrockets with his shock and fury.  Horrified, Berd listens as the archon describes Harbonah's crime, his stomach turning over as the herenethi finishes his terse tale.

Genocide...in the name of conquest.  As always.  Sickened, Berd hangs his head.  Harbonah has always demonstrated the capacity to strike at his own people.  But I never suspected he would obliterate an entire sibling race.

Slowly, his eyes begin to burn.  He would, I suspect, be pleased were he the only being left in creation, lording over the corpses of all in creation.

Raziel, is there any possibility the sencathi might have survived?  Any of them?  Might Harbonah have kept some of them imprisoned for his own purposes?

+ THAT IS UNLIKELY.  KEEPING ONE ALIVE WOULD RISK AN ESCAPE, AND THE REVELATION OF WHAT HAD OCCURRED.  EXTERMINATION WOULD BE THE SAFER OPTION. +

The Archon falls silent, and then, after a brief pause, continues, + BUT I SUPPOSE IT IS, JUST BARELY, POSSIBLE THAT SOME ESCAPED.  A FEW.  THERE WAS CONFUSION AT THE TIME.  THE ARCHONS HAD JUST BEEN RELEASED FROM THE FIRST PLACE, AND THE WORLD AROUND THEM WAS FAR FROM WHAT THEY HAD EXPERIENCED PREVIOUSLY.  THEY COULD SCATTER.  SPREAD OUT. +

+ SOME OF THE SENCATHI MAY HAVE SCATTERED SO FAR, AND SO FAST, AS TO EFFECTIVELY BE IN HIDING.  THEY WERE, REPORTEDLY, EXTREMELY FAST, EVEN FOR ARCHONS. +

Berd takes a deep breath.  So much to do.  So little time.  And he misses his daughter, more than he could have imagined.  How long has passed for her?  Days?  Weeks?

Years?

But he has a responsibility.  And she would tell him the same.  The fire in his eyes intensifies.  Then I shall find them, Raziel.  I will seek out your fallen cousins.

I will speak to them, telling them of this war.  Of the lies Harbonah has used, of how they have been forgotten by nearly all.  Of how not all of their cousins have fallen.  Of how if all is not protected now, all will surely fall, leaving nothing but madness and hatred and constant, bitter war between Archons, in a cold, dead universe.

I will speak to them of Raziel, who with his words has given them the chance to step forward, with allies to protect them from Harbonah's wrath and bilious hatred, and help make things right.

Already the hydra splits, its minds sending feelers into the myriad worlds.

I know not where to begin, but I will find them.

Raziel - they would have sought a means to hide.  Would the Myriad Worlds cloak them?  Or must they find a place outside?  Perhaps a place of power, where their own emmenations would be shadowed by the tides of force.

+ IF THEY ARE HIDING, THEN IT WILL BE DIFFICULT TO FIND THEM. +

Raziel pauses for a while, seemingly deep in thought, and adopts a slow movement from side to side, like the swing of a pendulum.

And, at last, + THERE MAY BE PLACES WHERE THEY COULD GO, WHERE OTHER ARCHONS COULD NOT.  PLACES WHERE ESHURIANTI WOULD BE EXTINGUISHED, HERENETHI DISSIPATED, AND DANIOTI CRUSHED AND IMMOBILISED. +

+ OR THEY MAY SIMPLY RELY ON THEIR SPEED TO STAY AHEAD OF THEIR ENEMIES.  MOVING ALWAYS. +

Speed is an illusionary escape.  If one runs far and fast enough, one finds oneself face to face with what one wishes to avoid.  But hiding in a place where the other archons cannot, will not enter...yes, I believe you have it, Raziel.

Water.  Damaging to both herenethi and eshurianti, but useless against the danioti.  Gravetics and magnetism - deadly to the danioti.  There are other potential areas I must consider, but wherever they have fled, it will be to a place most inhospitable by any standards.  Perhaps even their own.

Poor creatures.

His eyes narrow, halving their burning light, though not their intensity.  Raziel.  Can your people change themselves?  I have seen all of your kind take upon different, temporary forms.  Might it be possible for an archon to alter itself on a more permanent basis?

+ WE CAN SHIFT FORMS, YES, BUT I KNOW OF NO ARCHON WHO HAS CHOSEN TO DO SO PERMANENTLY.  IT IS SIMILAR TO CHANGING SIZE, SIMPLE TO DO, IF YOU KNOW THE METHOD. + Raziel says, slowly, thoughtfully.  + BUT THERE ARE RESTRICTIONS.  ALWAYS WE RETAIN THE ESSENCE OF WHAT WE ARE.  ONE OF THE DANIOTI COULD, IF IT WISHED, AND IF IT HAD SUFFICIENT WILL, ADOPT ANOTHER FORM, BUT IT WOULD ALWAYS REMAIN A THING OF METAL.  LIKEWISE, ONE OF MY KIND COULD BECOME HUMANOID, OR A BIRD, OR EVEN AN INSECT, BUT THAT FORM WOULD STILL HOLD LIGHTNING WITHIN IT. +

+ AND WE CAN NEVER BE STILL.  MOTION IS ESSENTIAL TO US, AS BREATHING IS TO HUMANS.  MORE SO, FOR A HUMAN CAN PAUSE IN ITS BREATHING FOR A SHORT WHILE.  WE CAN NOT STOP MOVING. +

Berd considers.

Not disguised, then.  As you said before - hidden somewhere the others cannot find them, or continuously moving.  In the latter case, I would expect someone - one of your people - would have seen them before now.  And talked.

So, most likely the former.  A torment, for creatures used to moving so freely.

Berd slowly breathes out, glittering mist surrounding him, then fading.  Too long away from daughter, away from friends.  It hurts, but he has a task to carry out.  Much more rides upon this than his pain.

I will consider, Raziel.  I was most fortunate to meet you.

Of curiousity, what did the Sencathi resemble?

+ AND I FORTUNATE TO MEET YOU.  I HAVE LEARNED MUCH CONCERNING... + and Raziel laughs then, a crashing peal of thunder, which fades away at last, + I ALMOST CALLED YOU MY ENEMY, BUT I NO LONGER CONSIDER THAT TO BE TRUE.  LET US SAY, INSTEAD, THAT I HAVE LEARNED MUCH CONCERNING OTHER BEINGS. +

+ THE SENCATHI ARE SIMILAR TO THE DANIOTI, IN THAT THEIR FORM IS COMPOSED OF SHARDS OF SOLID MATERIAL, BUT IN THEIR CASE THAT MATERIAL IS CRYSTALINE FROZEN WATER. +

+ IN SHORT, THE SENCATHI BORE THE SHAPE OF A WHEEL OF ICE. +

Berd grins his needle-toothed smile, genuinely pleased at Raziel's conclusion.  We have both learned a great deal about other beings, I think, and are the better for it.

He considers further Raziel's words and his own plans.  Finally he speaks.  I must find the Sencathi, then.  Perhaps they - if it is not too much a play upon words - might help cool the fury of their cousins.  But I must also inform my daughter of this, and determine what she has discovered.  Perhaps there is more we might do...

There must be a way to stop this war without either side being decimated!

He eyes the sparkling, dancing form before him.  Strange, how something becomes so beautiful once the menace is gone, once some understanding is achieved.  Perhaps that is the key, after all.  If both sides understood one another, saw one another as worthy creatures...it would be no magical seal over the war, but it might accomplish a great deal.

Raziel, I fear we soon must part.  May I call upon you in the future?  I shall be...circumspect.  I will not 'give you away' to others, to endanger you.  Nor will I speak of you or your name save to those I hold in strictest confidence.

But before that...is there anything you wish to ask me?  Or do you have a different plan in mind?  I am open to suggestions, he finishes, in a wry tone.

+ I HAVE DECIDED WHAT I MUST DO. + Raziel answers, after barely a moment's hesitation, + I SHALL RETURN TO HARBONAH'S FORTRESS, AND CONTINUE IN MY DUTIES.  BUT I SHALL PROVIDE WHAT INFORMATION I CAN TO HARBONAH'S ENEMIES, WHO ARE NO LONGER MY ENEMIES. +

+ I SUSPECT THAT THE NEPHELIM WOULD BE PLEASED TO KNOW, IN ADVANCE, IF HARBONAH PLANS TO STRIKE AGAINST THEM. +

The Archon considers briefly, and then adds, + I MAY BE ABLE TO USE HARBONAH'S FEW REMAINING SCRYING DEVICES TO SEEK THE SENCATHI.  HARBONAH WOULD, DOUBTLESS, DO THE SAME, IF THEY WERE STILL CONSIDERED A THREAT. +

+ I WOULD WELCOME FURTHER CONTACT, AND WILL ATTEMPT TO INITIATE IT, IF I DO LOCATE ANY OF THE SENCATHI. +

Berd wilts a touch under the weight of Raziel's decision.  True, it is the archon's choice, but a dangerous one, a choice Raziel would never have taken had he not interfered.  And yet, would it be better for the herenethi to blithely continue on a path to destruction?

No.

Straightening, he peers up at the crackling wheel with lambent eyes.  A brave decision.  I will be speaking to the nephillim, but shall not disclose your name.  For all we know, there are spies amongst them.

I will not forget, Raziel, and most certainly I will contact you...when prudent to do so.  You have my spirit's signature - no doubt you have means to contact me, should you require assistance, or find word of the sencathi.

I will do the same.

Rising up, Berd fans his wings in the air, preparatory to leave-taking. Fortunate I am to have met you, Raziel of the herenethi,  Raziel the artist.  Your insight and enlightenment has clad my certitude in diamond - this war can end without genocide or apocalypse.  You have my gratitude and respect.

Perhaps a little much, but as Cyan is wont to note, the difficulty with conversations with Berd is two-fold - first, pushing him to speak; second, pushing him to stop.

+ AND YOU HAVE MINE, FOR SHOWING ME THESE THINGS. +

Raziel starts to move away, but hesitates, + BEWARE BERD.  HARBONAH'S HOUNDS WILL BE HUNTING FOR YOUR PEOPLE.  THEY WILL NOT REST UNTIL THEY FIND THEM, AND ONCE THAT HAPPENS, HARBONAH'S FORCES WILL BE CLOSE BEHIND. +

And then the Archon simply grows, expanding and fading until it is gone...

The Hounds, yes.  Berd knows of them now, how they operate, how they hunt, all thanks to Raziel.  Another debt to lay at the feet of the herenethi.  Silently the drake ponders this problem, before coming to a conclusion.

The Hounds are a threat, but they also provide possibilities.

The door opens and the dragon soars forth, by habit leaving the house before leaving the world.  In an instant, a wind stirs the remnants of the spider's glassy web, rustles the leaves in the tree.  And once again, the clearing is empty, the little cabin waiting patiently for its owners to return.

Berd swims the underflow like a dolphin, rising from time to time to take his bearings.  The Hounds.  He must find a means to stall them.  One of the Hydra peels away, beginning work - an overlay, a creation that mimic's Cyan's own signature, her unique vibrations in the aether.  It may confound them, confuse them.  Keep them from his daughter until she is ready to face them.

There will be battle.  She will need that black sword of hers.

Other heads of the hydra quest, hunting for the sencathi - for word, for a scent, for a legend.  Into the depths they peer, then sweep the worlds above.  One shoots off into the Void itself, seeking any sparkling lights that might glimmer distant from the Myriad worlds.  Dangerous, dangerous, and yet...what choice do they have?

If only he found the shadow of a dark horse, Berd laments.  But Typhon he left far, far behind, aeons ago.

Word comes from the hydra-head with Cyan.  We seek Soqed Hezi.  Immediately, one of the minds peels off; recalling the psychic vibrations of the danioti it pulls a trick Cyan would appreciate, sending that vibration through the underflow as if it were a 'trump' or palanquet, then waiting for the echoes.  Only once - a single 'ping', in sonar terms, set to a specific vibrational frequency.  Any more might be picked up on by the wrong people....

As luck would have it, the echo returns to Berd almost immediately - Soqed Hezi is nearby, comparatively speaking.

But that echo is not the only thing... on the periphery of Berd's senses, a shape moves, following after the mind which lays the false scent.  It drags itself through the Underflow, tendrils of dark matter lashing out to fasten upon worlds and haul its pulsating bulk forward.  More of those tendrils reach out, seeking the source of the psychic scent.

And then something as big as worlds rises from the depths.  A mouth gapes, deeper darkness upon darkness, and the Hound is gone as its attacker sinks back whence it came.

There will be more Hounds, of course, but one less is a small improvement.