When the pair make it back to the halls where the scholars normally work to copy any documuments which are placed before them, it becomes clear that something is very wrong...

There seems to be a palpable air of terror about the place.  The normally quiet scholars are in a state of panic, dashing about to gather up whatever items they can carry.  Stopping one and asking garners the explanation that they have been instructed to evacuate the building, "The city is ablaze.  A conflagration, which started at the Guildhall, has been transmitted to other structures, carried by the wind.  Nobody here has the ability to prevent it destroying the entire city."  The creature turns back, briefly, as it moves away, "Flee!"

Roman shakes his head.  You;d think that they had precautions against fire...  But maybe he can help, a little.  ""Keep the documents safe,please." he tells Baerin before taking to the skies again.  Calling on the Logrus he seeks the heaviest rainstorm in nearby Shadow.  If it can be diverted to arrive at this place, maybe it will slow the spread of the fire, at least.

For several minutes Roman appears to do nothing, leaving Baerin puzzled...

And then the air around him seems to darken, as if something is casting a shadow over him.  The rain starts, light drizzle at first, but gradually growing heavier as clouds gather around Roman, forming into a vortex which gradually spreads across the heavens.

And suddenly the lightning comes, ripping open the sky, and the clouds surge outwards, stretching from horizon to horizon while the lightning blazes in a ceaseless coruscation.  Thunder echoes across the rooftops of the city, so constant that each peal almost drowns out the previous one.

On the ground Baerin runs for shelter as the rain becomes so heavy that it is as if an entire ocean is falling.

All across the city, the glow of the fires, already almost invisible in the actinic glare of the lightning, starts to fade as even the moisture laden air dampens down the flames...

Roman lands, and starts to look for Baerin feeling rather tired.  Nearer to Amber that might not have gone so well.  Time to move on, probably, and hope that the locals learn to take precautions to deal with an outbreak of fire.

Two hours later, and the inhabitants of the city, encouraged by the torrential downpour's dampening effects on the fires, have started to rally a little.  Teams have formed to fight the fires, and it seems that much of the city might actually survive relatively intact.

Roman and Baerin have moved on by this time.

They find themselves riding along a road which, by all appearances, has not seen any rain in some time, let alone a downpour such as the one which had been drawn to the city.  The road surface is dry and dusty in the mid-morning sun, and the land to each side is an endless expanse of dry, brown grass dotted with odd spires of stone.  These are obviously not natural formations, being far too regular in shape.  However they are not large enough to be dwellings for, while easily thirty or forty feet tall, they are only about two or three feet wide at the base, tapering rapidly to a needle-sharp apex.

As they top a low rise, Baerin points along the road before them, "Village ahead."  Roman, looking where the man points, sees a handful of thin plumes of smoke rising from beyond the next ridge.

Roman has rather soured on involvement in local affairs after recent events.  "I think we'll bypass it" he says, setting up the necessary Shadow-shifts to make sure of it.  He is eager to get back home, and start the process of reviewing the documents.

Roman has rather soured on involvement in local affairs after recent events.  "I think we'll bypass it" he says, setting up the necessary Shadow-shifts to make sure of it.  He is eager to get back home, and start the process of reviewing the documents.

The road forks before reaching the next rise, and the route that Roman chooses takes them off to the left.  When Baerin looks back a short while later, there is no sign of the smoke...

And so the journey continues for some days.  The road remains constant, though its nature changes constantly, but the landscape around it varies.  The only common factor is that, as much as possible, Roman skirts around settlements when he can.  Sometimes, of course, these settlements are unavoidable, and on such occasions they sometimes hear news of a great war which is raging, often drawing whole worlds into conflict.

Sometimes they are fought by monstrous creatures which bear death and destruction to everything in their path.  But more often it is the people of these worlds who fight, using weapons which they barely control and which slaughter even those who do not go to war.  Cities burn, oceans boil, the air is poisoned, and the earth itself sickens.

They hear, too, familiar names: Archons, Harbonah, The General, Jonnee Kay, Aaron of San Anyn...  Never have the people uttering these names met the people they speak of, but always they are somebody that the speaker has heard rumours of...

But the stories become fewer, the further south Roman and Baerin travel.  The lands are still ravaged by war, but the communities are smaller, more isolated, less interested in anything beyond their own local woes.

And then, one day, they come to a place that Roman knows of.

A slope leads down into a fog-shrouded bowl-shaped valley, beneath a sky streaked with red and green clouds - a sky which reminds Roman of that above his home.  On the slope, just before the path descends into the fog, stands a tree, or rather the fire-blackened remains of a tree.  The leaves are long gone, as are most of the smaller branches.  The bark has been cracked by heat, and the wood beneath charred.

Ash lays ankle-deep around the burned tree.

The destruction seems pointless.    The tree had some power, but enough to be worth destroying ?  Feeling a little sick, Roman approaches the tree to see if it might somehow retain some small remnant of life, have some message to pass on.  As he moves in he explains some of this to Baerin. "This is the place that marks the border between Amber and Chaos. The tree was planted by the Lords of Amber, and it was not without power.  I've never heard of anyone wishing to destroy it, though."

"Archons." Baerin asserts, "They do as they will, and what they will is usually destructive."

He watches as Roman investigates the burned and broken tree.  After a while he opens his mouth to ask a question, then closes it again as Roman leans closer to the blackened and twisted form.  A different question then, "Found something?"

Roman stands up, straight.  He answers Baerin with two words.  "Yes.  Hope"  Gathering the Logrus to himself again, he continues "Time to be moving on."  Maybe, if left alone the power here will heal, restore itself...  But not if the Archons learn of it and return.

The two men continue down the slope, into the fog-shrouded valley below.  The sound of the horses' hoofbeats changes - there is a hard-packed, rutted dirt road beneath them now, and Roman judges they are far enough from any remaining power in the area.  The Logrus reaches out, finds what it seeks, and there is a sickening lurch...

The fog is still there, but now filled with the sound of running water.  The road remains, but it has become smooth and black, leading away into the swirling gloom.  At Roman's urging, his horse starts forward, and it seems to the Chaosite that it moves faster than its pace should allow, as if the road itself carries it along.  It's hard to be sure in the fog though.

The vegetation by the roadside is familiar - types that Roman has seen close to the Courts.  That, even in the absence of the other signs, would be enough to tell Roman that he's in the right place.

The Black Road.  Or at least a fragment of it.

They follow the road south, through the fog and darkness.  The flowing water drops behind them, and the fog bears the smell of marshland.  But the road is firm and they make good speed through the unchanging but ever-shifting fog.  Sometimes the cry of some animal reaches their ears, but the beasts do not approach the road itself...

And after a couple of hours, there is a change.  The fog continues to swirl around them, but the road is no longer empty.  There are shards of metal scattered across it, some of them embedded in the surface.  The surface of the road bears deep gouges in places, and there are a few bodies scattered about - not human.

Roman examines the battlefield, to find out what befell here.  The metal shards - fragments of danioti Archons ?  The defenders, what sort of creatures ?  Have the forces of Chaos met the Archons at last ?  If so, who won, and at what cost ?

The bodies are almost human, though their skins is a pale blue and lightly scaled, and the blood that stains the ground around them, as well as the corpses themselves, is a darker shade of the same colour.  They appear to be wearing uniforms of some sort, or their entire race has little imagination when it comes to their mode of dress.

The weapons they carried are identical too, spears and curved swors with holes cut through the blades near the hilt, probably to lighten the weapon while still allowing the tip considerable inertia.

Dismounting, Roman crouches close to one of the metal shards embedded in the road.  It certainly looks like it might have come from one of the danioti.  He touches it, careful to only lay a finger against the flat side, not the edges.

It's vibrating.

Then he hears a voice.  It sounds weak, speaking a language he does not recognise, somewhere close to the road, but hidden in the fog...

"Ainuro tathot chikem t'nosh... hiven... tathlotchi... chaer.  Ainuro tathot... chikem t'nosh hiven... tathlotchi chaer." it keeps repeating.

Wondering what weapon might have helped these people fight successfully against Archons - their standard gear seems hopelessly inadequate for even fighting danioti  Roman follows the sound of the voice.  Cautiously.  It wouldn't be good to catch his leg on one of the sharp fragments of metal embedded in the ground - nor does he know who is talking.  The Archons are known to employ members of other species - and it may be that even the dead are servants of the Archons, not their enemies.  The victors may be someone else, entirely.

The ground to the side of the road is soft, marshy, but not dangerously so and scattered with pools of dark, greenish water.  The person who had called out is laying half immersed in one of the pools.  The main difference between this pool and the others nearby is that this one is tainted by considerable quantities of the blue blood of its occupant.  She looks similar to the bodies on the road, the same blue scaled skin.  In place of the uniforms worn by the others though, she wears a dress of green and silver brocade.  Her shoulder length hair is white, and her eyes are violet, and her right hand lays on the ground a short distance away, having been severed just below the elbow.

A strip of the brocade fabric appears to have been clumsily tied around her right bicep.

She watches warily as Roman approaches, and finally speaks again, this time apparently addressing him directly, "Ain... ainuro tathot chikem... t'nosh hiven tathlotchi... chaer."

Roman kneels, to see if he can help.  Speaking quietly, gently, he states "I am sorry, your tongue is strange to me...Do you speak Thari?"   As he speaks he evaluates the woman - she is clearly not a warrior, but competent enough to bind her arm, to stem the blood loss.  A sorceress ?  Such might be more likely to have some understanding of Thari...

She studies Roman for a few heartbeats, opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it again.  Finally she utters a single word, "Yes.", before closing her eyes and slumping back to the ground.

Baerin comes up behind Roman, "I looked around.  Far as I can see, they're all dead 'ceptin' her.  If ye're wantin' ter find out what happened here, ye'd best hope she wakes again."

The woman's eyes flick open again, and she half-whispers, "Not... sleep."  Her one hand grabs at Roman's arm.  "Help"

Roman grasps her arm.  "I will help, if I can." he answers.  He looks to Baerin.  "If you have any healing, now might be good.  I believe the term for the immediate problem is 'shock'. "

Baerin shakes his head, "I know little of healin' me, an' naught of healin' blue lizard women, but I'd say she's tried ter stop the bleedin', so that'd likely be a good thing."  He moves closer to assist Roman, "Let's get her up out of the water, where we can take a proper look at her, an' maybe start a fire ter warm her up a bit."

The woman shakes her head violently, "No.  Stay... in water.  Water heals.  Need food... too... for strength.  Fruit... tubers... roots.  Good."

Baerin backs away again, "Right.  I can do that.  I'll see if I can find somethin' ter eat round here."

As he turns to leave, the woman gasps, "My thanks."  Then to Roman, "My... name... is Adine Valdea... Moch... Moch'aldar Deneas Ste Nothok Ste Chuvacto... Argedda Hossako... Hossakotadea VosAeadren."

"Thank you, Baerin" Roman says to the departing man.  Staying and talking, helping the woman to keep awake seems the best course.  "Is that all your name ?  May I call you something shorter ?"

She draws a deep breath, and beckons Roman a little closer.  When she answers, it is in a faint whisper.  "Adine Valdea Moch'aldar Deneas Ste Nothok Ste Chuvacto Argedda Hossakotadea VosAeadren is my name, yes.  If it is too much for you, Vos is acceptable."  She manages a weak smile.

"I... I was travelling with my retainers and guards, and my friend, Pammon.  We were attacked on the road.  Pammon said it was the... the army of the Great Enemy.  They were too strong for us."

"My people... did you find any still living?  What of Pammon?"

"I am sorry..." Roman replies "...we found none other alive.  Your people did well to bring down the enemy before you were slain.  I believe I know them, and they are fearsome foes.  They seek to destroy all, and may have the power to do so."

Vos closes her eyes, and begins to emit a low pitched hum, a single, drawn out, monotonous note.  It continues for some time, and after a little while, Roman notices that tears have started flowing down her cheeks,

Baerin returns, but says nothing.  Instead he just gives the woman a curious look and places a round shield face down on the ground close to her.  There is quite a bit of vegetation on the shield - roots, leaves, stems, various berries, some fungii.  He also has a pack, presumably belonging to one of the dead.  He opens it to show the contents to Roman - one of the uniforms, a whetstone, a sewing kit, and a box, made of thick, stiff paper, containing a number of bandages and some small ampoules.

The humming stops and Vos opens her eyes, wiping away the tears with her remaining hand.

"The enemy?" she says to Roman, almost as if there had been no break in the conversation, "How do you know them?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Wed 04 Apr 2012.

"Thank you" Roman tells Baerin.  Looking to Vos he asks "Is this adequate to your needs ?"

While he waits for her to inspect the items, he answers her other question.  "I first encountered them at a place named Charyk....A host of them came against that place  There was much destruction, but we beat them there.  The true enemy is just one faction of the creatures.  Others fight with us, against the Enemy, who name themselves Seraphim.  Others have turned renegade, working only for themselves....We can win battles against the Seraphim, the renegades, but the war still hangs in the balance."