Greetings, true believers!
Okay, now that I've tried – and failed miserably – to channel Stan Lee…
It's been a long couple of months, and I've been rather active. Like I said before, I was surprised at how well-received my remake of "Thousand Year Door" was, and I can safely say, it was in no way as bad as the remake of Charlie's Angels. (Followers of my work dedicated enough to have read the whole thing will "get" that joke.)
Anyway, let's get the boring stuff out of the way. The Yu-Gi-Oh trading card game and anime is copyrighted and owned by Konami. (I'll have to make other disclaimers before this is over, but we'll cross those brides when we come to it.) This particular fanfiction uses current rules for the TCG game (including the American version of the Forbidden/Limited List) and the new rules for game structure have not been applied to this fic. (They were introduced as I was planning it.)
One small warning: note the rating. If you find this fic to be "darker and edgier" than most of my previous fics, that was the intent.
Now, a lot of people are asking just how much of the admittedly vague trailer was accurate. Well, you have to take into account the guy who was speaking at the time, and how trustworthy and reliable he is.
If I recall, I promised to tell you just who he was, but… I think I'll let him speak for himself…
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What are dreams? What does this strange link from the conscious mind to the subconscious tell the dreamer? Are they portents from dark and distant futures, ominous warnings of things to come? Or are they vestiges from the past, the dying whispers of ancestors, hoping that their heroic bloodlines survive in the generations to come?
Maybe both? Only the gods know for sure…
Last night, I dreamed a vivid tale of past events, a terrible, harrowing story of deception and betrayal. I thought I had shelved it to the farthest vaults of my mind, as it was something I had wanted so much to forget, but now, it appeared before my eyes so clearly, so plainly, pleading, demanding to be told one last time. I was left with little choice but to put it to paper with annotations…
Why? Call it a confession. It is a story I cannot deny my involvement in.
Shadowchasers
Conspiracy
A Fanfiction by Cyber Commander
Before the story I must pen begins, I must relate one that is well-known to my likely audience, which at the same time, is confusing, and has many mysteries and loose ends tied to it, one with many paths that have been explored for decades, all leading to dead ends. Perhaps I should say, many mortals on your world think they know this story, but just as many are uncertain of its key parts.
On November 22nd, 1963, 12:30 PM local time, Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone, assassinated President John F. Kennedy.
Well, at least that's what the Warren Report, the U.S. government's official report of the crime, claims. While the tragic event happened so long ago, many Americans, and indeed, many humans in general, don't believe it, claiming it to be all lies, and that the truth behind the assassination was a cover-up.
What was or is the truth? It depends greatly on who you ask. Not only have enough books on alternate theories been written to fill a library, you could probably write a decent-sized one simply on the subject of all the theories.
Some believe that the CIA was behind it. They were very angry at Kennedy over the whole mess with the Bay of Pigs. A name that comes up often with them in regards to this is David Sánchez Morales, a CIA agent who had lost several friends and colleges in the failed invasion.
Some suspect the Mafia. Attorney General Robert Kennedy had introduced many strict reforms against organized crime, and it stood to reason that killing his brother – the President – would be a subtle message for him to yield. Not to mention that the mob had lost a lot of business in Cuba when Castro took over, and might have blamed Kennedy for that.
One powerful figure in organized crime mentioned more than others was Sam Giancana who may have had a lot of reasons for wanting Kennedy dead. There were allegations by the Republican Party that he rigged the Illinois elections so that Kennedy would win, and some believed he was upset now because of the tougher reforms (of course, even if Illinois' Electoral Votes had not gone to Kennedy, he still would have won), OR that Kennedy had stolen his girlfriend, OR that Giancana was involved in some plot to assassinate Castro… Again, it varies depending on who the speaker is.
Then there was the theory that filmmaker Oliver Stone used, that the military-industrial complex was behind it, fearing the President would abandon South Vietnam to the communists, hurting their business. (You can blame the Red Scare on this. People those days saw a communist behind every tree, it seemed.)
Other popular theories to suspected masterminds: The KGB, who wanted revenge for being humiliated after the Cuban Missile crisis; Lyndon B. Johnson, who some thought feared would be dropped from the ticket in Kennedy's reelection; the Federal Reserve, who thought Executive Order 1110 was the beginning of a push to abolish them; the Cuban Exile community, who felt Kennedy had betrayed them at the Bay of Pigs (starting to see a trend here?); and on the flip side to that, Fidel Castro, who sought retaliation for constant attempts on his life.
There was even one theory that Oswald did act alone, but Kennedy was not his target. According to this one, his true intended victim was Texas Governor John Connally (who was also in the car). Why? Well, Connally was then Secretary of the Navy, and some felt that Oswald may have held him responsible for his undesirable discharge from the Marines. Oswald's widow staunchly believed this one.
Most theories include Jack Ruby, the vigilante who killed Oswald. They claim that he was "in on it", and had killed Oswald to silence him. Ruby was convicted of murder and sentenced to death, but died in prison – from lung cancer, the coroner's report said – while his sentence was on appeal.
When you look at all these theories as a whole, you realize they can't ALL be right. They conflict and contradict each other in several areas. They only agree on one thing: The Warren Report is a sham, and the government was lying.
Why don't these people trust the government?
Well… With conspiracy theories… That's often the case…
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Marseilles, France, January 6th, 1451.
A day commonly called the Day of Fools.
An elderly man in priestly vestments sat at an oaken desk in a fancy presbytery. He wrote in a small journal with a quill pen.
He paused midway through a sentence. He stopped to listen. Then he shrugged.
"Meh…" he said, as he went back to writing.
Then he looked up in surprise, as the doorway was thrown open. A well-dressed man walked in, and two others wearing uniforms followed. (Oddly enough, despite the fact that the uniforms suggested soldiers, the two were unarmed.)
"Archdeacon!" shouted the first man.
"Are you upset about something, young man?" asked the elderly man, with a slight chuckle. "I mean, come now, this is a holiday, you know…"
"Only a holiday of humiliation, Lafore," replied the man.
The old man looked at the small scar under his eye. He had seen it before on Dimitri… But had only recently learned what it meant. He slowly put the quill in its inkwell.
"I'd much prefer to be addressed by my title, Monsieur…" he said, sounding a little angrier this time.
"I'm not certain you're worthy of it," asked Dimitri.
"Who do you think you're dealing with?" asked the man. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Actually…" said Dimitri.
He quickly held something up in front of him.
"…I have a better idea than most. Take a look at yourself, 'Archdeacon'."
Lafore gasped. It was a mirror. And seeing his reflection… It was something he didn't seem to like. He backed away from the three Shadowchasers, covering his face as he grunted in pain… His vestments slowly changed from the spotless vestments of a holy man to dark, tattered, robes…
Then he looked at Dimitri, his face now a bare skull with glowing, cold flames for eyes.
"So tell me, 'Archdeacon'," asked Dimitri, looking at the diabolist lich with a look of hate, "did anyone you ordered burned commit any crime? Or do you consider the fact you hated them enough of a reason?"
"Oh, I had a reason," hissed the monster, "one neither you nor that mongrel you work for could ever comprehend. The only regret I have now is that I didn't take care of you sooner…"
A ball of cold fire formed in his hand, and he hurled it at them… But then, a weighted metal club appeared in Dimitri's hand.
Lafore's eyes widened in horror as he realized what it was – a Mace of Disruption. But the realization that Dimitri had come prepared was a little too late. The Shadowchaser swung and a wave of pure, holy light enveloped the room.
Lafore's bolt was vaporized instantly, and right before that happened to him too, he realized he actually had one more regret…
…that he had thought so lowly of these people. It seemed they had been smart enough to see through the ruse that no-one else had…
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Freemasonry is an American fraternal organization that has had some very famous names among its members, including George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Andrew Jackson. Even today, the organization tends to recruit a lot of politicians and Washington power players. This tends to make a lot of people credit them with power and influence that don't really have. In Catholic countries, some people claim that they are dedicated to the destruction of the Catholic Church and the spread of communism. On the other hand, in Imperialist Russia, they were believed to be behind the spread of republicanism, Napoleonism, Anglophilia, atheism, Catholicism… Basically, anything they hated. (Ironically, Catholics can't become Masons at all due to their own rules; they're very exclusive.) Author Dan Brown played with this idea in his novel The Lost Symbol, where the group played a role.
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Westminster, England, February 23rd, 1559.
In a court of law, a very unhappy-looking young woman was kneeling before a judge, guarded by two bailiffs.
"Thus, by the power invested in me," said the judge, "you are hereby sentenced to…"
"Objection!" shouted a voice.
"Eh," said the judge. "Who?"
Then the doors to the courtroom were literally kicked open. The two bailiffs turned around as the prisoner screamed and covered her head.
A man in courier's clothing walked in, followed by two in far less fancy attire. Despite this, the one dressed as the courier had clearly been the one who had knocked the door down.
"Bailiffs!" shouted the judge. "Apprehend them! They're clearly out their minds!"
"I beg to differ, Claudius, I never felt better…" said the courier.
As the two bailiffs rushed at him with their spears, his two companions stood in front of them, and then each punched one of them in the face. They both dropped their weapons and fell over, clutching the spot where they were hit.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the judge, as the courier walked up to his bench. "What…"
"…gives me the right?" asked the courier. "See for yourself."
He tossed a scroll onto the bench.
"What's this…" asked Claudius, as he unrolled it.
Then his confident look quickly faded as he read it.
"A royal decree signed by her majesty the Queen, Magistrate," he replied, "issuing a pardon to this prisoner and all others currently under sentence of execution by your order."
"Uh…" said Claudius, nervously.
He looked at the man, and saw the odd mark on his cheek clearly.
"There's also this…" said the Shadowchaser.
He tossed another scroll to him. The Magistrate's hand trembled as he opened this one. It had the Queen's signature on it too… But this decree applied to him…
"A lot of mistakes were made during her father's reign," continued the Shadowchaser, "and you were a big one. It will take some time to correct them all…"
His voice sank to a whisper.
"…but we have the time. A Magistrate with the belief that the only good Shadow is a dead one who has the authority to see that done was an important priority…"
Claudius made a nervous chuckle, tugged his collar, and then stepped down from the bench.
"You, uh…" he said. "You wouldn't strike a defenseless old man, would you, Sir Lane?"
Lane only reply was a cold look.
Then Magistrate made a snarl that didn't seem human at all. He reached under his judicial robe, and pulled a very large sword from it. Exactly how, it was hard to tell. Then he didn't look human in the least – the spell concealing his true appearance was gone, and his coal black skin covered with scales and bulbous nose was now obvious to the three Shadowchasers and the prisoner.
She screamed again, but she wasn't the only one this time – almost everyone in the room did… All but Lane and his two partners. As Claudius tried to strike, a blade appeared in his hand to block it.
"You don't seem so defenseless now, your honor…" grunted Lane. "I have to say, I'm surprised, I didn't think you were anything more than a very… ugly… human…"
The skulk made two more violent swings, but Lane blocked them both, and then he got over the initial shock, making an offensive swing of his own. Claudius took one step backwards, pausing for a second… One second too much. Another swing by Lane shattered Claudius' sword, knocked him into the bench, and knocked the powdered wig off his head.
The skulk growled as Lane and the other two walked up to him.
"You simpletons have no idea what's happening…" he muttered. "I'm nothing… It's all bigger than me… Bigger than you… Bigger than the entire legacy of the Tudors!"
Lane lifted him by the collar and shook him hard.
"Tell it to the real judge…" he said.
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The Bavarian Illuminati was a short-lived society formed in 1776 in Bavaria – naturally – that was devoted to free thought and the ideals of the Enlightenment. It had about two-thousand members at its peak, but disbanded when Bavaria outlawed such groups. Still, some people suspect that they're still around, and that they're planning world domination. Dan Brown (again) uses them as a hook in his novel Angels and Demons. (Of course, maybe they already succeeded in taking over the world a long time ago. After all, free thought and Enlightenment, their original goals, are very popular ideas in the western world these days…)
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March 3rd, 1693. A cave fifty miles north of Beijing.
One PM, local time.
A humanoid wearing a very stylish, lime-green kimono of the type worn by men with gold trim and wooden sandals paced back and forth. Bones were littered over the floor of the cave.
Calling him human would have clearly been wrong. His head resembled a bird of prey with white feathers streaked with black, and both his hands and feet were taloned.
Loud cries like those of monstrous birds of prey echoed through the air outside as he glanced at the fortified door leading in.
"With due respect, your highness," said a voice (not Chinese, but a strange language that was similar), "this is becoming more risky by the hour. Eventually someone is going to notice."
He turned to see a similar creature wearing leather armor of the type used by foot-soldiers in the Imperial Army.
"Calm yourself…" he said. "They might, but by the time everyone between here and Raging Mountain territory knows of it, that won't matter. We just have to…"
"Prince San!" shouted a sentry at the door.
"Who?" asked the leader.
"Humans…" said the sentry. "Uh… Only two…"
"Two?" shouted the tengu. "My father would have to be the biggest fool in the world to let two humans this far into…"
Then he was cut off as something shook the whole cave. Then it happened again, and the barrier started to crack. Then a third time, and it cracked and splintered even more. The fourth time, it wouldn't hold. It gave way, under the huge, glowing, green fist that had been ramming it.
It was indeed two humans… One of which knew powerful sorcery. As the first vanished, he and his two retainers saw them clearly, a man in plate armor and a younger man in a red kimono, but one that seemed designed with ease of movement in mind.
"To me, my warriors!" shouted the prince, as he lifted his hand.
The bones lifted off the ground with a pale, eerie light, and then fitted themselves together into skeletons… Not human skeletons, skeletons that clearly once belonged to bird-like creatures like him. The undead soldiers rushed the two humans, while the two retainers drew long blades.
"Allow me…" said the sorcerer to the armored man.
He quickly spoke a hasty incantation, and the undead creatures were propelled backwards under a spiraling cone of rainbow-colored light, breaking into pieces on the back wall of the cave. Then the sentry swung at the warrior, only to be disarmed with one swing.
He backed up, and the other one hesitated. The warrior made a beckoning gesture. They decided against it, and lifted their arms.
The warrior turned towards Prince Sen.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" asked the Yokai noble. "You wouldn't dare…"
"I would," replied the Shadowchaser, as he grabbed the tengu by the throat, hard, forcing him to his knees.
He looked the young prince in the eye.
"I never liked you people in the best of times, your highness," he said, putting an intentional sarcastic tone into the title, "but I figured that one redeeming quality you had was loyalty to your own Clan…"
He sadly looked at the broken skeletons.
"Seems you don't even have that… "I know exactly who you are, San, you're a liar and a murderer, and I don't bother with honorifics with that sort of person."
He slowly relaxed his grip, and the prince gasped for air.
"You filthy peasant…" he said, chuckling nervously. "We're in the middle of Howling Gale territory… How do you intend to leave with me as a prisoner? Magic or not, you won't get two miles. My parents will have you both drawn and quartered!"
The Shadowchaser looked him in the eye. Then the other one turned towards the door. Then he shoved him to the floor.
"What's your opinion on that, your excellence?" he asked.
They all turned towards the entrance. Someone else walked in.
It was a woman dressed in a feminine version of San's kimono, but far fancier. If not for the talons and clearly bird-like features, she might have been considered very beautiful.
"Mother…" gasped San.
The Bride of the Howling Gale sadly shook her head.
"How do you think we even got here?" asked the sorcerer.
"WHY?" gasped San. "You allied yourself with them? You hate humans!"
"I hate the House of the Creeping Night even more," she said, sadly. "When these two told me you were allied with them, I wanted so much to believe they were liars…
"But when I demanded proof, they showed me things more horrible than I've ever imagined… I tried to tell them you were being brainwashed or blackmailed, but they were even able to disprove that…"
Tears formed in her eyes.
"Mother…" he said.
"Don't tell me, please…" she said. "If I don't know why, maybe I can keep telling myself you were somehow coerced…"
She turned to the two Shadowchasers.
"Take him…" she said. "No-one will oppose you until you leave Howling Gale territory."
"Understood," said the armored man.
He and his partner bowed, but she looked away.
"One final word of advice, your excellence," said the sorcerer. "In three hours, the Lord and Bride of the Creeping Night will complete their ritual, but it will fail because San isn't here. Given the time and resources they invested in it, they'll likely be furious. When night falls, I would expect to see a horde of them with an intent to attack anything that moves."
"Then we will fight back," she replied, not turning around, "so you two had best be gone by sundown, lest you be caught in the middle."
They simply nodded, and then pulled San to his feet, giving the disgraced prince a shove as they left. His mother sobbed softly.
It had been a choice between helping them and fighting him herself when the ritual was finished… And she knew that taking the second choice would have been far worse than this…
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The Knights Templar were a group of skilled, pious, and occasionally highly educated elite fighters, cavalry, and bankers founded during the Crusades. By all accounts, there was nothing about them (well, most of them) that really suggested anything sinister; maybe they were just a bunch of guys with bad publicity that they didn't deserve. (They did have some involvement with the war where the vampires were wiped out, but then, many knightly orders did.) The fact that they ceased to exist practically overnight leads a lot of people to think that they're still around, and up to no good. You can find them in The Da Vinci Code (a novel written by – guess who? – Dan Brown), Foucault's Pendulum (a novel by Umberto Eco, who unlike Brown, doesn't even try to have it make sense), and the video game Assassin's Creed.
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May 1st, 1945. Berlin.
In a bunker that had been hastily constructed from a wine cellar in what had once been a restaurant, five German soldiers and one officer – the insignia on his dirty and soiled uniform indicating the rank of Colonel – were standing watching the barricaded door.
The officer seemed calm, but his five men, much less so. Their expressions combined anger and fear.
Then the room shook to the sound of a large explosion, seemingly only a block away.
"That one was even closer!" shouted one of the soldiers.
"Stay strong, men!" shouted the officer. "They'll be here in an hour!"
"You said that two hours ago!" shouted another solider.
Then another shell hit, and the room shook harder.
"Ugh…" said the officer. Then he froze. "Wait…"
He turned towards the door with a weird look in his eye. He cursed in German…
It came suddenly. The door broke open, and ten soldiers wearing the uniforms of the Red Army rushed through. They didn't say anything before opening fire. The five German troops tried to return fire, but were quickly cut down.
"Enough…" said the officer, in a very inhuman voice.
He simply lifted his hand, and the Russian soldiers screamed, dropping their rifles. The officer's human face vanished, a horrible, cold tentacled face replacing it.
As the enemy soldiers fell, the vile illithid in a Nazi uniform glared at them.
"You humans are so stupid…" it said.
"That is one of the biggest cases of the pot calling the kettle black I've ever heard," said a voice.
The voice wasn't in Russian or German, but English this time. The monster turned to the door…
The man who had spoken was fifty years old or so, with salt-and-pepper grey hair. He wore a uniform that was the same style as the type worn by American soldiers, but with nothing to indicate rank, position, or even actual allegiance.
Still, he had a weapon. An automatic rifle.
"Raise 'em, Qath," he said, pointing the weapon. Then he pointed to a small device that was clipped to his ear.
"Your mind blasts won't work on us while we have these, and without them you're about as dangerous as a snail out of its shell. Now raise 'em."
"You can kill me if you want," said the illithid, "but our Führer will…"
"You haven't heard?" asked one of the other Shadowchasers. "Your Führer is dead. The coward put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger."
"Of course, given what the Red Army would have done to him, I can't blame him," added the third.
The leader pointed the gun at him again.
"I'm not warning you again," he threatened. "As of this moment, I'm no more impressed by the title of 'Fuhrer' than I am of the powerless weakling an illithid is when it can't use its psychic powers. Now put your slimy hands or I swear I'll send you to Hell to meet him."
The illithid looked at him and hissed.
"I don't care…" he spat out. "No matter how many of us you pigs kill…"
He pulled a knife from his belt.
"…you can't kill an idea!"
Then he lunged at the leader…
He never got past the second step. Three shots from the rifle proved it hadn't been a bluff.
The veteran Shadowchaser Anderson Steading looked at the body of the infamous illithid inquisitor, someone he had been searching for almost since the war had started.
"Maybe…" he said. "But an idea can kill you…"
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The New World Order is a term that was first mentioned by the John Birch Society in the 1970's, but no-one took it seriously until President George H.W. Bush used the term in his poorly-timed speech in 1991 (one of many reasons he didn't win reelection) and since then, the term has become synonymous with evil organizations. Supposedly, the New World Order is some shadowy group of businessmen, politicians, and other elites who are plotting world domination for selfish goals. One popular theory associated with them is the NAU Theory, which states that that they plan to somehow form the "North American Union", which will cause America, Canada, and Mexico to abolish their currencies and unite under one currency called the "Amero". How will that help them conquer the world? Well… Truthfully, that's something no two people making the claim can agree on.
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July 14th, 1986. Fifteen miles west of Phoenix, Arizona.
In the middle of the desert, a large warehouse stood, surrounded by barbed wire fences, posted by "Keep Out" and "Beware of the Dog" signs.
Of course, there was no dog, and after a pair of wire cutters clipped through a wire cutting the power to the real security system, a very muscular man and a young woman, both dressed in khaki clothing, cautiously walked up to the door. Thick chains held it shut.
"Chains are a nice touch…" said the woman.
"Sure are..." said the man.
He grabbed hold of the lock, and gave it a yank with his bare hands, ripping it open.
"Obviously meant to keep some poor coyote from wandering in…"
They slowly opened the door.
"…and dying from the biggest cocaine overdose in the history of this country…"
He hit a light switch, and they looked at it all… Literally thousands of packages of raw Colombian cocaine, stacked on shelves reaching to the ceiling.
"Dear God…" said the woman. "How much is here, Val?"
"Enough to feed a moderately-sized country of addicts," he replied. "Looks like we found out why the dealers on the east coast had gone dry… Sykes was getting hold of it and storing it here…"
"You called?" said a voice.
They turned around, and he was there. The well-known dark fey crime boss Wilhelm Sykes. He was a diabolic-looking creature, with goat-like legs, and very long, pointed ears, along with dark eyebrows. Still, his clothing was elegant, if old fashioned.
Behind him were two hulking, bald, ugly creatures with tusks, holding shotguns.
"I have to commend you two for finding this place," he chuckled. "Still, it was kind of stupid of you two to think I didn't see you coming. It's not like a stash this big had so lax security that two people could just sneak up to it.
"That's the difference between people like me and people like you. You just charge into the situation like some dumb Leeroy Jenkins, while I can plan ahead, think in advance, and…"
Then he stopped as he heard some very distinctive clicks behind him.
He and his two henchmen slowly turned around. Ten Deputies of the Maricopa Sheriff's Department were aiming rifles at them.
Sykes' two henchmen dropped their weapons, and the three of them lifted their hands as they turned back towards the two Shadowchasers.
"You know…" grumbled Sykes, "you two could have said they were there before I went and made an ass of myself…"
"Where's the fun in that?" asked Val. "Always fun seeing you make an ass of yourself Sykes…"
Then he grabbed the mobster by the collar.
"Look, Sykes, I just gotta ask…" he said, "I'm sure the prosecutor can charge you with possession with intent to sell, but… For some reason, you weren't selling this stuff! You've just been hording the biggest stash of cocaine in history for months! Why the hell would you just sit on a stash with a street value of over a billion? Don't tell me you were trying to raise the price by increasing demand for it?"
"Hey, maybe I was!" replied Sykes.
Val groaned. Then he and his partner turned to the officers.
"Tell the Sheriff that Stormbringer owes him one," he said. "Move it, you mooks…"
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Conspiracy theories are many and varied. People are suspicious by nature, and untrusting. Some say that mortals don't have free will… Nonsense. They do, and this is the downside of it.
It's amazing what some people will believe…
There's a principle called Occam's razor that states, quite simply, that when you have competing hypothesis, the one with the fewest options is better. In other words, the solution that requires fewer variables to believe is usually the best one. A conspiracy theorist usually thinks the opposite.
But…
In a world where Shadowkind live in the darkness, out of sight from most people… Maybe this isn't so surprising.
"Ignorance is not bliss but knowledge is not power." So it says on the back of the card that Jalal gave me during the time I posed as a Shadowchaser, a card I have kept, I believe. This saying has been challenged many times. In some cases, it is inaccurate.
Willful ignorance may not be blissful at all. It may actually cause suffering. And false knowledge may be incredibly powerful, but only if you're the one spreading it… Lucifer is called the King of Lies by some, but dishonesty is not limited to the Overlord of Hell and his minions. An old proverb among my peers states, "Angels cannot lie… But their words don't always reveal the whole truth."
I ask that you read my words with an open mind, but to temper them with common sense. Doubt if you want, but don't doubt so much that you become willing to believe what you should doubt.
In my quest to maintain the Balance between Good and Evil, Law and Chaos on your world, and in all of Creation in general, I have studied conspiracy theories in great detail. I have even helped to spread a few (which ones, I will not say). I have been known by many names in this quest… Colcook, Duke Rohan the Wise, Setag the Dark Shade, Falagar, and dozens of other names. I sign this work with my true name this time, because I feel I require the trust of whoever reads it.
For now, to preserve the Balance, honesty must be a factor, and a tale must finally be told. My goal in writing this work is not an attempt to support the Shadowchasers now, nor anyone they ally themselves with or oppose, but only to add some insight in an endeavor that, in retrospect, gnaws at my soul. Whatever happened in past events, I claim absolute neutrality now…
After all, I am rilmani…
I am Jemorille the Exile.
The first official chapter of "Shadowchasers: Conspiracy" is coming soon.