Disclaimer and Other Stuff
Sam and everything associated with the Dog-Eared Barmaid belongs to SamanthaHolden.
GileSan and everything associated with the Knight of the San belongs to GileSan.
John Starlight, S.M.B.'s, Christopher Draconian, Frito, Main Plot of this Story, oh never mind. Most of the rest of the stuff belongs to me.
So, without Further ado...
-The Lion Stone-
Chapter One
The S.M.B.'s European Headquarters stood upon a large rock way out to sea off the coast of Ireland, a great mass of turrets, towers, and arches. It was originally constructed in 1436 when a highly regarded 'Seer' produced a prophecy telling of a highly educated warlock who would creep into the world of the Dark Arts and be lost to it. He would try to suppress his evilness upon the innocent White Magic Users, and turn the world into a place of sadness and despair, in which he would rule all, teaching only what he deemed suitable in his New World.
So, Volmert's (the name of the Dark Lord in the prophecy) Institution had been constructed, in hopes that Volmert would spare Ireland when he saw what its people had built him.
Volmert's Institution had decayed over the years, many of its courtyards filled to the brim with dreary vines, and its walls crumbling into rubble. The Dark Lord had come but he had also fallen; though, Volmert's Institution had not gone unnoticed. Voldemorte, as the Dark Lord had been officially called, had given it to his trusted allies, the S.M.B.'s (Science and Magical Breakthroughs in Wizardry), in hopes of them establishing a permanent base near his homeland, where he could keep a closer eye on them. However, shortly after, the Dark Lord was finally and fully defeated. So the castle once again was deserted, as the S.M.B.'s moved back to there original establishment in Colorado.
Yet now, the old castle was once again bustling with activity. For a reason of setting up a temporary base of operation had arose. The S.M.B.'s had finally created a potion that could wipe out entire continents, devastating millions, plunging the world into darkness; the reason that Voltemort had allied with them in the first place. However, the potion was stolen shortly after its creation, and it was believed to now be in the hands of a man by the name of John Starlight, who had taken up residence in Scotland...
GileSan went flying across the room, hitting the bar leaving a large crack on it from the impact. He slumped down onto the floor, splashing into his own blood. Bill Man leapt over to the knight from the Realm of the San, and began punching him in the stomach with enough force to knock over a car. There was no way someone could be that strong…
Bill reared back like a wild beast and came down upon GileS again, serving him several forceful blows with his fists. Samantha Holden sat upon the stairs, trying to block out the unpleasant sounds coming from the bar where she worked. There was a loud scream from GileS, that sounded as though he was in pure agony. Sam's dog-like ears twitched nervously, and she could not bear it any longer. She had to look.
Her boyfriend was lying on the ground, blood pouring from his chest, where Bill was digging his sword deep into GileS rib cage. GileS gasped, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Sam gasped as well, and she dove herself to where GileS had thrown his dagger earlier. She clutched the blade in her hand and ran towards Bill. She threw herself on top of the ferocious man, and brought the blade swinging through the air.
THUD.
The dagger sunk several inches into Bill's back. He gasped, but then turned around, his face in what looked like a look of triumph. He reached behind his back, and Sam heard an unpleasant noise-like water boiling and some one squishing, a wet, sloppy substance- and when Bill pulled his hand back out to the front, the knife was clutched in his hand. He grinned, and flung it as hard as he could at Sam. She just had time for a small squeak before the knife pinned her to the wall, her leg now bleeding furiously.
Bill turned back to face GileS, but a bright white light illuminated the room, and when it had cleared, Bill was no where to be seen, just some scorch marks where he had been standing. GileS tried to get up, but the pain was too much, and he let himself fall back to the floor.
John Starlight bustled over to GileS, putting his robe's hood down so he could see better. "Un sportsman like," he commented to GileS, as he crouched down next to him. "Yet, affective." John began examining The Ranger's wounds, pushing his usually less than affectionate attitude to the back of his mind. He ran his finger over a deep cut, then called upstairs to where he had token his house elf, Frito, earlier. "FRITO! Bag me!" Frito tossed down the bag of his magical dust, and John caught it in both hands. He began to tend to GileS wounds, as he talked. "I noticed something about that Bill character. His blood was kind of green, but I don't know if that means he's a zombie, or a…" John continued like this for some time, as he sprinkled dust on GileS, and wrapped bandages firmly around the sores. "…but the blood could have been black, and I just didn't see properly. But it looks so green." If GileS hadn't felt like a train had just hit him, he would have probably broke John's jaw, just to shut him up. "All finished," he declared, getting up to go tend to Sam. However, GileS' foot shot out, and tripped him. John fell to the floor. GileS wanted to heal Sam. John shrugged.
"Have it your way," he sighed, and headed upstairs to comfort his house elf. He found Frito cowering under a table in the hallway outside the room they were staying in.
"Hi, Frito," John ventured, gently. The houself whimpered, and John handed him back his bag of magic powder. "The fights over…" Frito shook slightly. Apparently, he had heard the whole fight from his hiding place. "Do you want to go lie down?" John asked him.
Just as John reached for the door, however, he heard movement inside the room. John retracted his hand slightly. Not wanting to scare the young house elf, and wanting to keep the potion safe, in case the people in the room where the S.M.B.'s, John tried something desperate.
"Frito? Why don't you go downstairs? I used some of you powder on GileS, and I'm not sure what the long term effects will be…" The elf nodded, and John pulled out the long slender bottle witch held the potion. "Just hold this for a while, okay?" Frito nodded again, and took the potion lightly form John's hands. He put it gently in his short's pocket and hurried off down the stairs.
John turned his attention back to the room. He grasped the doorknob firmly and turned it. Immediately hands shot out of the room and pulled him in. The door slammed shut behind him.
John found himself being thrown out the window, and John heard a familiar voice.
"Be careful, you fools!" Alan Night called. "You'll break the bottle!" John hung limply in the air, someone holding his hood firmly. "What are you waiting for!?" The angry voice of Alan Night hissed. "Pull him up here already!" John was swung up onto the roof, and he saw something that startled him. There was Alan Night standing on the roof, and so where the usual henchman (the one's that GileS hadn't killed, anyway), but he was flanked by a forth man, one that resembled-
"Me?!" John sputtered. Indeed, the man looked just like him, except his skin was a little darker.
"Remember," John heard Alan Night say to the look-a-like. "You are John Starlight. Frito is your house elf. You like Sam. You hate GileSan." The procedure looked like it was a form of brainwash, for a second later, the other John replied, with a faint accent.
"I am John Starlight," he said, stumbling slightly on the words. "Frito is my house elf. I like Sam. I hate GileSan."
Alan Night nodded, and grasped the man's shoulder tightly. "You are serving the universe well. The Dark Lord shall rise again, and you can be proud to know that you sacrifice will play a great part in his revival." The John beamed, before he was directed into the open window.
"Don't forget," one of the two other men told the John as he climbed into the window. "Point the wand at the fire, than you." The John stared back at him, looking puzzled as though he had not understood a single word that had came out of the henchman's mouth.
"You idiot," Alan repeated. "He can't understand you. It took us ages just to teach him the little bit he can recite." He rolled his eyes, and said something in a different and odd language that John did not understand. But, the other John apparently did, for he ducked out of view and snapped the window shut.
Alan turned his focus onto John, himself, for the first time since his arrival onto the roof. "Well, well, well," he grinned, a yellow grin. "Why are we looking so thin? Are John's troubles finally catching up to him?" He pointed to an empty alleyway. "Take him over there," he barked, before disapparating with a small pop.
John wasn't sure how he got to the S.M.B.'s headquarters or when. He just woke up in a large, dimly lit chamber; the only light coming from dark candles letting of pale blue fire; and with somebody's face leering close to him. It took John a few seconds to realize what must have happened, and as the person withdrew a few feet from John's head, his features swam into focus.
It was Christopher Draconian.