Time passes...

The consciousness comes awake. At first it wanders around what now has become a star, so compact has the energies woven itself over the eons. It looks upon the lifeless star and is touched by his first feeling, sadness.

With his hands outstretched he, Logos, took it upon himself to create life. For days he shaped what would become the world Carnac. At first he created the lands, the tallest mountains and the deepest valleys. He then created the clouds and the sky. He thought he was finished and he was content.

He watched the world from the mountains, reveling in the cools winds that swept its peak. He touched the clouds and felt a wetness like he had never felt before, he liked the feeling, the cool wet feeling of water. He tasted it and was amazed by its purity and how refreshing it was. He thought about this, and he looked down to the land beneath him. It was dark and dry, and for the first time he realized that apart from the mountains the world did not look beautiful, and though the world turned it was not alive. It did not speak, it did not grow. It would merely spin for eternity, not unlike the energies it was molded from.

He thought of the moisture in the clouds and remembered the joy he felt in the experience. He wanted the lands of feel as he felt, he willed the clouds to rain and so it did. It rained for 49 days and the water carved the rocks, flooded the valleys and created the ocean. Soon the world was a splendid blue, like a turquoise jewel hanging in the colorlessness of space. But there must be those who can experience the splendors of the rivers, oceans and lakes. The rocks and mountains as Logos had learned were lifeless.

Taking the remaining energies from the clay he did not use to fashion the mountains he created life. First he created the fishes to swim in the water he loved so much. Then he planted the trees who would forever favor the presence of its moisture. Later came the animals then the soaring birds that further graced the world with life. Lastly came men whom he created in his likeness, they too had the power to mold the world to suit their needs and the first seeds of mankind he placed near the great rivers which had been created. There they would have all they need to prosper.

For a time all was well, Logos now a God was content. And all his creations rejoiced and prospered in the land bestowed to them. But all was to be undone. In his haste to create mankind in his own image a piece of clay was left unused. The clay lay forgotten in the darkest valley of the new world. There it lay for centuries, waiting for its turn to be molded into something beautiful. At first it was patient, Logos has a special plan for me it thought to itself, maybe he has not yet decided what to mold me into. But as with everything with consciousness its patience waned, and it grew bitter. Made of the very fabric of the world and instilled with a mind not unlike Logos himself the forgotten piece of clay willed itself into existence. Bit by bit it transformed and with each transformation it grew ever more hateful of being forgotten.

By the time Logos recalled the forgotten piece it was far from too late. Already an entity which named itself Patos was formed. It rivaled Logos in power but contained none of the compassion, love and the desire to create as its counterpart. Instead it longed to twist what Logos had painstakingly created. As revenge, Patos?Z first act of power was to instill change, change which Logos from the very beginning hated.

From his act came the four seasons, day and night, life and death. But this wasn?Zt enough; Patos wanted Logos to experience the pain and abandonment he felt, taking a handful of sand he infused within every grain what would be known as the sins of men. Each grain he took and planted into all of mankind, and with that act men turned away from Logos, the learned greed, lust and had a desire to dominate and destroy.

Powerless to stop it, Logos wept.

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The Beginning of Chaos

It has been sometime since Patos changed the world. But while it wasn't his intention, by bringing about the distinction between life and death a new player of this game between the Gods came to being. When there was no death there was no need to create new life for all endured, this was the vision of Logos, an enduring world which would retain its splendor for all eternity. But with the onset of death the fabric of creation shifted, for if those with life were to die, new life had to take their place. While Logos had the power to create he did not posses the power to renew, why this is so is not known. The duty to recreate life from the energies left behind by the dead fell to a new god, the Goddess of Life, Akara.
Unlike Logos and Patos which interacted little with the world Akara was in constant contact with every living being. She watched the old wither and die and she nurtured the young to take their places. She learned to understand the creatures which inhabited the world, she learned to love them as her own even though she was not their true creator and they paid her no homage. Overtime she felt Logos grow ever distant in his grief; she knew that Logos now neglected his creations for he could bear not the pain of them having been changed. While she did not fault Logos or Patos, she despaired that life no longer prospered as it once did under the guidance of the creator.

"Perhaps," she thought, "I should adopt these children as my own."

As fate would have it the petition to claim all of creation as her own was turned down. Logos feared that he would loose his creations even further. He promised Akara that he would resume his responsibility; the goddess was satisfied with this answer and lay the matter to rest. After all, all she wanted was the world to be cared for, it mattered little to her who claimed stewardship, though she herself may not realize it, but deep down she wished she had that honor.

But just as Logos began keeping his promise Patos reemerged. This time he decided to warp the very first of Logos' creations, the very mountains in which Logos first felt the winds and touched the clouds. With ease Patos called up fire from deep within Carnac's core. The pent up forces erupted through mountain peaks creating fiery craters of molten lava. Horrified at the destruction of his beloved mountains Logos was slow to stop Patos as he struck a mighty blow cracking the sides of every volcano causing their destructive forces to flow unheeded to engulf and ignite all that stood in its path. Forests and their inhabitants were destroyed, rivers boiled to nothingness and men standing petrified at the horror unfolding before them lost their lives.

Generations later, many of the forests that were destroyed Akara regrew. Animals once again walked the earth in abundance and rivers again flowed as they once did. Men too recovered their losses and many of the new generation knew nothing of what their fore fathers experienced. To them the silent mountains had always spewed fire every so often, and they had learned to be wary of its captivating beauty. In fact, most had never set foot on a mountain let alone gazed down at the beautiful world from it, as Logos once did. Due to this, Logos again retreated into his own despair and cared not a bit for the world that was no longer his own.

This time Akara was determined to take over Logos?Z supposed responsibility. But she knew he would never give it up easily, for the good of life itself she conspired to rid the world of the weak hearted Logos and the disruptive Patos. Unbeknown to the other gods, Akara knew of one other. There was still the god Cypher, who knew of nothing but destruction and deceit. It is generally believed that it was Cypher who using methods unknown who planted the ideas of bringing about destructive changes to Carnac. For while Patos was responsible for change it was not in his nature to destroy, many a historian would debate this issue in years to come.

Being told of the existence of Cypher, Logos grew wary and questioned Akara about this new "god".

"How Cypher came into being is not known to me, but what is certain is that the power of creation he has not. He cannot weave dust into mountains, change the rain into snow nor can he bring life into the world. What he can do is grind the tallest mountain into the finest dust, fire snow into vapor and smite every living thing. He has the power to destroy, nothing more, nothing less. It is his power you need to be rid of Patos".

Upon hearing this Logos was elated, he immediately left to seek out this god, Cypher. Logos had dreams of his world returning to its prior form and did not see the goddess' faint smile.

~

Once found, Cypher was not the image of power which Logos had envisioned. He was the anti thesis of magnificence, he looked frail, worn and possessed none of the aura of the other gods. Regardless, Logos trusted the Goddess of Life and proceeded to ask for the favor.

Unknown to him, Akara had already approached Cypher and had told him of the opportunity to destroy their predecessors. "You should kill Patos first", she had said. "Logos is idealistic and weak, him you can kill at your leisure". Cypher trusted Akara as well, for the purity of life held no evil and life after all was her domain.

In preparation to confronting Patos, Logos reached out and drew the clouds around him. From the clouds he fashioned a blade so beautiful it masked its deadliness. This blade he gave to Cypher, and together they journeyed to the deepest valley of Carnac where Patos resided.

At the mouth of the valley stood a massive fortress, strange a god of change would choose to reside in something so unyielding and unchanging. But as they approached, Patos stepped out from the shadows. In his hand he brandished a spear of finest wood, tinged with green. It radiated life itself and there was a certain calmness to it, the calm of a peaceful forest, there could be only one who could have created such a weapon.

The one who had warned Patos of the arrival of the other two was now patiently waiting for what she thought inevitable, the end of Logos, Patos and with luck Cypher as well.

The battle was swift yet furious, no words were exchanged by the combatants as Cypher charged, his gleaming sword held high. Patos merely stood blocking blow after blow with his spear while counter attacking when he could. Logos merely stood watching the fight unfold, praying that Patos would meet his end.

Evenly matched the gods turned to their individual powers to given them an edge. At first Patos swept away the sun and the stars sending the world into darkness. Cypher already unused to the dark valley found himself ever more blinded. Patos lunged, his spear grazing the shoulder of his opponent. Angered, the wounded god rained destruction upon the valley setting all but the rocks aflame. Recovering his sight and catching Patos totally off guard as the other stared at his burning fortress, Cypher slashed and severed the left hand of Patos.

Like thunder Patos screamed in pain as his lifeblood drained out of him. But while Cypher and Logos looked upon him triumphantly something happened. Subtle changes occurred within Patos and Cypher, their appearance did not change but their demeanor, their life force if you will, shattered and reformed into the image of each other. Patos through some means of magic now resided in the body of Cypher, whereas the essence of Cypher now lay in the torn body of the one he had wounded only moments earlier.

Though in pain the spirit of Cypher refused to just die. With a last act of will he hurled the spear he clutched at his own body, the body that was stolen from him. Patos who was reflecting upon his own genius managed not to avoid the spear thrown at him by the Lord of Destruction.

Patos now lay dead, with Cypher about to join him. Cypher grew ever weaker and with Logos having fled when he called fire down to the valley he was on his own. It was then when he realized his powers were no longer confined to the destruction of things but with some effort he could induce change much like how Patos was renowned for. Focusing his fledgling abilities on his severed arm he first stopped the blood from flowing. He then pulled at the sinew and bones making them expand until they eventually took the shape of the missing limb.

Fully recovered he stood and with new found strength he shouted for all to hear, "I am reborn, fear me for I am now unmatched!"

As a display of strength he shattered the valley and out of the rubble fashioned a monument not of stone but of glass. The monument while not beautiful, with its sharp edges reaching out in all directions was no less magnificent. Men flocked to marvel at its construction and to pay homage to its creator, the god Cypher.

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The Tale of The Pianna Knights

The fabric of creation is a fragile one. With the changes brought about by Patos and then the new Patos-Cypher entity Carnac itself began to show gradual signs of change. At first it was the insignificant changes, the smell of flowers fading, the seasons being more unpredictable and ground water occasionally coming up brown, as though rusted. These things men took little notice of; there was no need for explanations sometimes "just happen".
All these was not Cypher doing however, for he himself was too busy lavishing in the attention of his new found subjects. Years later humankind had divided themselves up into the six great kingdoms, war monger Hellsgarem of the Deserts, Buegrant with its ports and ships of steel, the white city of Arrdeam, Planisad famous for magnificent harvests, the center of commerce, Brisbia and finally El Morad on the west coast.

It was around this time when strange creatures began appearing all over Carnac, at first they were thought to be wolves, bears and others animals whose intentions could be violent. But they were not, they were different. And with each passing year their difference just grew and grew, some had sighted beings of stone, magic and worse of all those who used to be friends, now resurrected into animated corpses bent on bringing all life to the level in which they understood, death.

Before long those "hellish creatures" had grown in such numbers that even human cities with their high walls and staunch defenders could not repel their might. The first to fall was Planisad thus food resources were scarred. Soon others, Brisbia and Arrdeam fell. Even the mighty babarian kingdom, Hellsgarem did not survive, torching their city instead of letting it fall. The few survivors flocked aboard the ships of the Buegrants who themselves were abandoning their city, fleeing for El Morad by sea.

King Manes then ruler of El Morad took in the refugee's without prejudice. Those able were given places in the army, further bolstering the defenses of the city which had not yet been attacked. New battlements were raised, and before the attack came supplies were brought in, weapons forged and armor polished. The citizens of El Morad were determined not to let their city fall and those who had already fled were resolute in their loyalty to their new home, for if El Morad fell there was no one else to turn to. The insignificant El Morad through a turn of events had now become mankind?Zs last stronghold. Should it fall, the seeds of humanity would cease to exist.

Having been prepared the defenders repelled what should have crushed them. After that initial trust random sporadic attacks continued to come. For seven long years they fought and for seven long years King Manes prayed to the gods who seemed to have turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to the sufferings of their children. Though history will tell little beyond their suffering, our heroes after the first two years of fighting had grown accustomed to the random attacks. They were even prospering, to a fashion. They again dared to venture beyond the safety of their walls. Tunneling into the mountains behind the city they had a source for metals, wood they harvested by sending armed bands into the forests. Food proved a problem at first, but by relocating much of the populace into the mountains and underground, enough space was vacated for crops to be planted.

By the third year seasoned veterans had begun hunting these monsters. Traveling in small numbers these parties sought out and killed the weaker creatures and those which had strayed too far from the others. These warriors brought back stories of adventure and glory. Soon these parties organized themselves into what would be known as the Pianna Knights. They lived apart from El Morad and dedicated their lives to their work, some of them would even learn the arts of magic and healing. Arts long lost when men gained mortality.

On the last night of the seventh year, something extraordinary occurred, red rain began to fall over El Morad. Far away a green fog inched ever closer. A warning had sounded and for the first time in years all had run for the gates and more than one would admit that they were afraid.

King Manes once again prayed to any who would listen. This time Cypher answered.

"It is you, for so long I have prayed. Why do you only now answer"? King Manes asked. The gods had never answered before, and many doubted their existence.

"There was no need", came the reply.

"Everyday my people die, is there no greater a need"?

"There is no need",

Determined to see salvation the king begged, "You have the power, only will it and all will be right again, we are but your humble servants".

"Servants are off no consequence, this day I show myself for the end is near. Though I did not will this destruction, its flatters me to admit that my power brought its beginning".

The King grew angry, "You may be a God, Cypher. But nothing can not be brought low". Standing drew his sword and pointed it at the direction of the voice, "If you will not help us, we shall meet our doom, together". But Cypher was no longer there.

~

"There must be something we can do", one of the council members said wiping sweat from his brow, while another beside him tried hard to suppress a yawn. It was late afternoon and the lords and leaders have been discussing the matter since the night before, when Cypher appeared.

A Planisadian lord stood and repeated his intent on escaping the encroaching green fog. None of the scouts had yet returned and he believed it sound to escape first then reevaluate the situation. It would days to move everyone and time was already growing short.

"No, we stand and fight, kill Cypher and all should be well again", an overly bold Erenion sweeping his hand in an arc, nearly knocking over a weary servant who was refilling his goblet. "We have run enough".

The council was in uproar, it wasn't the first time someone suggested and while they all knew that was the only solution they were reluctant to fight a god. "Are you mad"? someone shouted, "Cypher is a GOD"!

"We will stay, but we will not fight",

The room was stunned into silence. To stay but not fight? Then what should be done? Just die? Surely some believed that the king had finally lost his senses. Already many had to be persuaded to believe that Cypher truly did speak to his majesty.

"Send for the Pianna Knights".

~

The Pianna Knights rode through the castle gates amidst the cheers of the entire populace. Here were the heroes of legend, those who would save them all. In their newly fashioned armor and polished swords they looked every bit the story book heroes of old. Not one who saw them believed that they would fail.

Near two hundred strong they rode in search for Cypher. Legend has it that he had a built a monument of glass centuries ago and that he resided near it, tended by his early followers who saw to his every need.

Guided by no more than stories told to young children the Pianna Knights rode into the wilderness away the most obscure of human settlements, which of course were now nothing more than ruins. In the forests they killed every creature they encountered, but those were few and far between. It was as though each and every one of those vile beings had been picked up and stored away. One may even take a walk in the moonlight and return unharmed.

One night a wave of fatigued washed over them and they each in turn fell asleep.

They dreamt of a place near a valley, there were people there. And at first their semi-conscious selves were elated, for they had thought they were the last. But as their dreams were guided closer they saw the despair in the faces of the people, how tired they looked without an ounce of joy in their souls. But they did not understand, here was a peaceful place and uncomplicated haven of rainbow colors when light struck the edifice of glass. Realization dawned upon them, here was the lair of Cypher and those humans were not his adoring subjects but his slaves. Their consciousness turned towards the monument, at the foot of it a fortress stood, it was of dark stone and it absorbed the lights as though it never existed. They drifted closer, but as they neared the structure they felt rather than saw a hand reach out and block their view.

The dream ended, but they did not stir till morning.

While the Pianna Knights were troubled by what they had seen they were no less determined. However, their knowledge was not limited to what they had. They were being drawn to the west as though they knew there was where they had to be. And in their minds and hearts rang a verse, a prayer long forgotten:

We are your children,
Though long forgotten,
Do not forsake us.

Towards the west they rode, as quick as the wind, never had they been inspired so. They rode without stopping for days, neither they nor their animals felt hunger or exhaustion, they rode until a sight caught their eyes. An enormous monument which sparkled like a diamond stood miles away. Even having seen it up-close in their dream did not prepare them for the magnificence before them. The neighing of one of their horses snapped them out of their reverie and again they continued.

By dawn the next day they reached what appeared to be an impassable barrier, the monument just beyond. There was nothing there but the horses refused to go beyond the invisible line. Even the knights that dismounted found themselves unable to bring themselves to cross it. It was as though the desire to enter that "zone" left them the moment they approached. One would account later that the feeling was akin to one looking at his favorite dish. He knew he wanted it, but yet opening his mouth, he lost his appetite.

By noon none had passed but the terrain was changing. The forests and grass which enveloped them dissolved as though nothing more than an illusion. The ground seemed to dry up leaving nothing but dry earth behind. It dried so quickly that it began to crack, scarring its smooth surface. Suddenly, the ground in which held the knights gave in and all fell into the crevice. Many were injured in that fall and some lost their lives. But most of them now found themselves in a dark cavern having landed in the middle of a host of every monster they had ever faced, and some which they have never before laid eyes on. Standing there so tall as to almost reach the stalactites was Cypher himself. They did not know him, but they knew they faced whom they sought.

With the barest of a nod, the Pianna Knights were assaulted from all sides. They formed a circle of shields, holding back the enemy as best they could while protecting the injured and the healers within the ring. The knights were skillful in war craft and they only lost a brother with the felling of beasts ten times that number. But as the battle wore on their numbers had dwindled significantly and there seemed to be no end of their tireless foes.

Down to than fewer fifty men, the beasts stopped their assault. They backed away as Cypher approached, seeing him up close for the first time they saw what Cypher truly was. Besides his gigantic form he looked little better than an old man. He wasn't the fierce warrior god all expected him to be.

"Welcome, Knights-Pianna. I see you must be tired", he mocked.

The Knights did not answer, instead those inclined to sword play each picked a target and rammed them thru. Those gifted in the mystic arts opened themselves up the their powers and fire and lightning scorched all those who stood in their path. So fierce was the attack that Cypher could only watch as the few hundred beasts he had left were killed mercilessly. More men were lost but it was all over, not a single creature stood standing, and those that still lived lay bleeding on the blood soaked cavern floor. They circled Cypher, but to defeat a god by sheer physical strength and the little magic they could command was sheer folly. Cypher knew this and he was unafraid. Already the corpses of the fallen were stirring. Soon they would rise again, but would remember no face be it friend or brother.

As the very first of the zombies closed his hardening fingers on a fallen sword words of fire burned in the minds of the survivors. Without knowing the reason, they began chanting the prayer which had come to them before.

We are your children,
Though long forgotten,
Do not forsake us.

More and more of their fallen brethren were standing and rearming themselves. Never in their lives had the Pianna Knights felt such fear while feeling such hope. They continued.

We are your children,
Though long forgotten,
Do not forsake us.

Louder and louder the words echoed through the cavern, resounding of the ancient walls and reverberating off the shivering stalactites. More verses came out of their mouths.

We are one again with you,
You can hear us,
Listen to our plea.

Cypher unheeding their pitiful prayer flared his powers, the ceiling began to collapse on our heroes and more than one was crushed by the falling granite. Yes they stood unwavering.

It is the end,
We wish to return,
Welcome us home.

Like lighting there was a flash of light as something streaked from the heavens. Logos, the God Creator lifting his mighty bow had let fly a bolt of energy fueled by the long prayers of salvation from generations past to present. The bolt pierced the clouds, the cavern ceiling and struck the startled Cypher above the shoulders. In a brilliance that would have blind all that had not the blessing of Logos, Cypher was no more. Only his final cry for vengeance vibrated softly on the walls.

Another voice more subdued but so clear and so full of love said.

"Welcome home".

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Abandoned Once More

With the defeat of Cypher the green fog lifted and the jubilant Pianna Knights rode home to find the whole of El Morad in celebration awaiting their return. Tales of their adventures spread quickly among the people of El Morad and very soon shrines and temples dedicated to the god Logos were raised in his honor. Humanity began to prosper once again and for a time not one remembered that Cypher vowed revenge.
Now that peace reigned many began to venture out of the city, at first little farms sprang up just beyond the scarred walls and battlements that once protected them, soon plantations growing crops of every kind and villages to support the farming community mushroomed along side them. With the blessings of Logos all prospered.

But peace was not to last long in the land of El Morad.

Twenty years has now passed since the defeat of Cypher, and El Morad has become the capital of humanity. Gone are the makeshift houses and simple establishments that served the defenders during their bitter struggle. With the advent of peace and new found prosperity, beautiful boulevards and magnificent sculptures raised in remembrance of those who gave their lives during the "dark times" filled the newly constructed and expanded walls. Many new towns and villages graced the countryside. While the villagers pledged their loyalty to the crown those who roamed the highways did not. Wealth brought about greed and bands of brigands preyed on the trade routes and hijacked many a caravan foolish enough to travel unguarded. While King Manes still lived these incidents were few and far between and all in all his citizens were content.

~

Paul set on an empty wheelbarrow as he watched the commotion around him. The king had just passed, having died suddenly in his sleep. Many believed it was old age but some weren't too sure. It was a popular rumor that the council of lords were eager to take command seeing that King Manes had no heir. Either way the villagers were taking no chances and were preparing rations and packing up daily necessities in case the latter was true. Violent changes in establishment very often had equally violent consequences on lower society.

Being only nine years of age Paul did not understand most of what was happening but he reveled in the excitement of it all. There was sound of riders approaching and a woman, probably his mother scooped up the nine year old and taking him ran to the basement under their home to hide. The riders may be friendly as was usually the case but no one was taking any chances. Only the men, all armed stood in the village square to receive the riders. They turned out to be soldiers from the city, here to officially proclaim the king as dead and the council taking command. These riders were friendly but soon it would not be so.

The Council was in power not yet a year when taxes were raised and large portions of the army were retired. Without sufficient protection bandits grew braver and even caravans running under guard were often attacked. Those who could not afford guards or mercenaries were at the mercy of the goddess of luck, if there was such a god.

While peace was still largely kept it was obvious that it was deteriorating. Besides the rise in highwaymen the common populace also felt less inclined to be cooperative with one another and especially with ranking officials, whom made unreasonable demands while doing next to nothing to ease the troubles of the common folk. Petty in discrepancies became full blown squabbles and more than once a person of rank found himself dead and the perpetrator hauled off to the gallows.

Over the years Paul grew up just like any other boy, thin and of average height and just like all boys his age he had often listened to the soldier's talk of heroic battles and awesome adventures. Now that he was of an age to take up a profession, he hoped he would be accepted into the ranks of recruits and one day win glory for himself just like the soldiers in the stories. He imagined himself one day sitting under the village cherry tree telling children of his great tales and adventures in much the same way he used to listen.

Full of hope he wrote down his name on the log book used for such matters, it already contained countless names of those who had visions such as he. Signing his name he took one last look at the book and walked out of the army registrar's office. Now he only had to wait for the summons.

~

"All of you are called to serve your people, you will serve until you are no longer needed or until you die", the herald intoned the call traditionally used to call civilians to take up arms for the good of their country. "Do you accept this call"? he asked looking over those assembled before him.

A loud shout of agreement confirmed their acceptance and Paul, standing behind everyone else felt the surge of emotions as all gathered took the first step towards a life of daring and adventure.

That was so long ago.

Paul snapped out of his reverie as prisoner began clanging his metal cup against the bars which held him. The prisoner indicated he was thirsty, and though it was not allowed Paul took the cup and walked towards the back of the room which housed the many cells. He was only allowed to get them water, but walking up towards a keg he filled the cup with ale reserved for those who were to have their last meal. It was a small gesture but the prisoner took the cup, he did not speak but his eyes showed how thankful he was. "The prisoner" as Paul thought of the man he was keeping an eye on was nothing like the hardened criminals in the next room. He may look ragged and dirty but his features did not possess the mean streak common among the thieves and murderers. He was just a poor shepherd who was a few months back on his taxes. There was a time when the law was more lenient towards those such as he.

Inside the merchant's quarter a large crowd had gathered to protest against the taxes which increased significantly every year. The taxes could be tolerated if the leaders did something to curtail the rampant rise in bandit activity on what was called the traders "highway". Many had begun whispering that greedy officials were actually masterminding the bandit activity and that some of the bandits may even be soldiers in disguise. This however was unlikely since there would be more money to be made through taxation rather than the utter ruination of the livelihood of the merchants. But either way it was ready fuel for the already raging emotions and many were inclined to believe it just because they wanted to.

As the crowd grew, drawing in both supporters and those curious enough to stick around soldiers were dispatched to break up what was slowly turning into a violent mob.

The next morning there was no market. The entire space was taken up by what would be the first public execution in the history of El Morad. The executioners were masked men clad totally in black if not for their green tabards marking them as members of the council's newly formed secret police. It was their unit that had so efficiently caught and convicted the masterminds behind yesterday's demonstration. The secret police had the power to judge any man guilty on the grounds that he may be a threat to the peace.

Those gathered around the raised platform stood in silence as the "guilty" were brought forward and their crimes announced. A total of twenty men stood on the platform awaiting their fate. Some showed fear and not a few openly wept. But most of them stood silently standing proud and erect as their last act of defiance. Once their crimes were read they were unceremoniously beheaded, one by one. The crowd was shocked but many seethed with long pent up anger.

~

Flame engulfed the center most portion of the city. Citizens ran in all directions as armed men advanced towards the Center Precinct where many council members and those in support of the rulers resided. The center of the city also housed the wealthiest and the most influential men in the city. These were the ones the raiders were aiming for, those who had been not only unjust, but greedy and corrupt. The raiders numbering many times the number of city guards and soldiers stormed through the streets chasing down and butchering all those who had oppressed them. No one saved the soldiers stood in their path, for in truth there were no men left. All not sworn to defend El Morad were among the rebels.

Civil war had begun.

The wars did not last long, but many who found themselves on the wrong side died. Paul was among the casualties, the idealistic young man who was forced by circumstance to fight his countrymen. He was killed at the doors to the council chamber, the last barrier between the council and the revolutionists.

If that victory spelled long awaited peace Logos would have been pleased, but as hard as he tried to think otherwise he knew that his sons and daughters were forever changed by Cypher all those years ago. When the old council fell all rejoiced but many outlying towns took the opportunity to declare independence, never again did they want to bear the yoke of being ruled. But when the new council or "The Just" as they fashioned themselves to be called consolidated their power they to were unable to give in to human nature. They wanted control and had effectively convinced themselves that a united race, united by any means, was to the benefit of all. Thus conquest began.

~

A presence hovers over a small village. It surveys the surroundings; no more than a hundred live here. They have a mill to grind the wheat and an inn for the weary to have a drink or the have a game of dice, this was all they had. The presence pauses, and looks down at a crowd gathered.

The crowd were made up mostly of men, they were armed and many were veterans, the revolution being hardly a year ago. But when the newly formed cavalry charged through their ranks every lance found a target. These men some were old soldiers of the previous regime and many were highway bandits now in the employ of the city. They excelled at fighting from horseback as they would have done when they hijacked caravans. Facing men of such caliber the defenders did not stand a chance. As an example to the others, not one who stood their ground was spared.

The presence rose higher and higher until the blood soaked ground was nothing more than a pinprick below the clouds. This time the presence vowed never to return.

More destruction followed but fearing for their lives and families most re-pledged their loyalty with minimal resistance.

While the human race was once again united albeit through force of arms, life began to return to normal. But Logos had given up on humanity once and for all and without his presence and power of Cypher's long forgotten curse began its' strangle hold on humanity. But it would be a generation before the first noticeable signs of the curse took hold and before then a new race would come into being, the Elves.

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The Legend of the Elves

Let me tell you about the elves. The Elves never were part of the human world. While they resembled us in many ways, they are taller, leaner but most importantly they are immortal or so it is claimed. It's believed that they were created by Logos when finally turned his back on humanity which he viewed as incorrigible.
It is also believed that the Elves whose image was modeled after humankind lived in very much the same way as did our ancestors. They lived simple lives hunting, gathering and farming. The only difference was that they preferred to live the dense forests of Carnac rather than the wide open plains favored by their cousins.

While real, Elven kind hovers between myth and legend within the tomes of human understanding. Only a few have ever chanced on meeting an elf for their forest home is well protected by Logos and none knows of its location. Some even believe that the forest "El Lura Lastach" or "the forest where the Elves sing" exists not on El Morad but somewhere between reality and inexistence. In layman's terms the forest resides on Carnac, yet it does not. There are many theories regarding this phenomena but this concerns the realm of priests and wizards not those who are more interested in listening to a good story told.

These remarkable creatures are again divided into two groups or so legend tells. The Iladhel and the Vladhel. The Iladhel are their spell casters, our own wizards believe them weak for they only delve in the power of nature. But weak they are not, our magic users have obviously never experienced a year without winter and yet the forests of the Elves remain in perpetual spring.

The latter are akin to what we understand as rangers. They're tracking skills are unmatched and darkness do not impair their sight. They use long bows of the like we have never seen. Their bows measure a height of a man and their bolts can hit a target at 300 yards.

It is also believed that the Elves live in harmony singing and dancing throughout the night not having a care in the world.

Not much more is known about these eternal beings and some of what we do know may even be tall tales spun for the amusement of little children. But perhaps one day, we will know more about those who are different, yet not so different from the rest of us.