Chapter 12: A Bard, a Legendary Creature, and an Imp
Solaris rose, and we rose with it. Miar got up earlier than me and Azaila; he already had our supplies packed on a horse-drawn wagon set for Granemor. The smell of death enveloped and exuded from the carriage; it masked that there was any life nearby, the perfect ride for a stroll through Darkovia and Doomwood. Yivtarn and Tethil eyed them cautiously, but they saw that me, Miar, and Azaila were heading west rather to Krovesport and subsequently Talados. Yivtarn wasn't going to bother them; he wanted an easy paycheck. Why bother with them if they weren't on Myodei's trail anyways? That was Yivtarn's thought process on it.
As for how the morning actually went, I awoke to have the dark djinni's skull being the first thing that I saw that day, an unpleasant sight to say the least. The words of Kyrei, my ancestor, were fresh in my mind. I had no time to ponder on them though as we needed to get to Granemor without delay. Whoever Joel was, he was awaiting them there with information about Myodei and his cohorts. I wasn't sure what Joel had to tell us, but I believed that if it could help us figure out what Myodei is doing, then it was worth it.
Before we got onto the carriage, I had noticed that Miar gave some sort of wink at Azaila, but I didn't know what his intent with that was. We were able to get all of our luggage onto the abysmal carriage without much difficulty, and it seemed that the ride to Granemor would be surprisingly mundane with the carriage's awful smell to disguise them. The two horses that would be pulling the carriage were pure black stallions of a stocky sort, quite the reliable type. Miar sat with his back facing the horses while Azaila and I sat opposite of him.
"When did you pay for this carriage, Miar?" I asked to break the silence that otherwise dominated the scene without any resistance. If one was of the more superstitious type, then they might surmise that some curse had been laid on the land from Gorraran to Granemor that day.
"A friend of mine is a stables master close to here," Miar elaborated, "But the dwarves aren't fond of horses or many of the means of overland travel. Based on that, I decided that I'd wait on calling on my friend until now. I don't think that we'll be needing to come back here for a while." He made sure to end his sentence off perfectly with a devilish smirk.
"If you say so," I replied, ignoring the odd smirk. Miar knocked on the wood behind him, and the hooded man that would be keeping the horses in line got them to go. The pace was slow and steady to start off as much one would expect, but it was getting faster as we went on. It became quite rickety during about the middle of the ride; I suppose that the road was poorly paved. Not long after that unpleasantness, the carriage came to a sudden halt.
A voice could be heard outside, "Who authorized this carriage's passage into our Lady Safiria's lands?"
"We're in vampire territory?" I queried.
"Quiet," Miar hushed me.
The hooded man spoke now, "Queen Safiria granted me passage herself, so if you deny me safe access, then you will be angering her. You don't wish to do that, do you?"
"Oh, no, of course not, sir," The vampire responded, "I was not informed of your coming, so you must understand. My deepest condolences go to you, however, and I wish that you enjoy your time in our Lady's territory."
The carriage came to a start again. Granemor could not be too far away now as we already passed a vampire outpost. Miar broke the silence surprisingly, "My driver knows how to speak to the locals, Razen. Oh, yes, Azaila, you had something that you wanted to tell me?"
"That can wait," She replied nervously. She looked like she was blushing. I wasn't sure that I liked what this was adding up to, but it was not my place to intervene, especially without solid evidence. Only thirty minutes or so passed before we reached our goal: Granemor. The horses came to a much smoother stop this time. Once the carriage came to a clean stop, the driver maneuvered his way down to open our door to let us out.
He bowed as he gave a piece of advice, "Watch your step, Miar."
"It isn't muddy," Miar jested as it actually was muddy for one. Miar knew what he meant and intended to abide by it as well. With Miar's response, whoever the man was returned to his place up in the carriage, perched on his platform like a bird patiently awaiting for something to come its way.
I turned my attention to the village around it. It was in shambles; most of the buildings barely withstood the burden and time and decay. Gray, decrepit shingles were scattered about in bits and pieces. It was amazing that anyone would live in such a wretched place. Even if you disregarded the litter and decay of the place's architecture, you would still find yourself at unease due to the off-level nature of the buildings. There was a blue moglin in open sight that bore a number of scars even part of his left ear was missing. He certainly didn't look like your stereotypical moglin.
Miar greeted him, "How are you doing, Dewlok?"
"Kinda wished that I wasn't on guard duty right now," Dewlok responded, "Joel's playing in the tavern as we speak. Even in a rut he's got a way with notes that I've yet to see be replicated."
"He is?" Miar was a tad surprised but continued, "That's wonderful even."
It was then that I could hear some music was starting up in the tavern. The notes began to play, and the melancholy followed them. I could feel it bearing upon me, yet the music was so wonderful in its performance. Miar opened the tavern door. The man who must have been Joel was at the piano playing the notes with smoothness matched only by the most graceful of elves.
The people of the tavern sat around captivated by its pull as I almost had been. The song was evoking such powerful emotions from men and women who had been numbed to sight of death even of a loved one, but they had no such resistance against the sensations that his melodies brought forth. The people of Granemor preferred it that way as they felt that it made them feel more human to be able to shed a tear or be lost in a tale of a forgotten love. It was this music that was one of the few things that gave them to spirit to work and toil through their days, for they knew that it awaited them.
It was now that I noticed that the man playing at the piano had a few oddities going on with his appearance. He sported a thin tail with a black spade-like tip that swayed left, right, up, and down in tune with his notes. Two small horns protruded from his skull, but they were quite tiny indeed(a half inch in height according to the man himself). They curved back from his forehead, seeming more like an outlandish hair restraint than horns. It was difficult to see the color of his skin due to his attire as well as the lighting in the tavern, but I had my suspicions already that it was deep red with the occasional light maroon scales strewn about his form. I was certain that he was a demon; it was quite possible that he was from Heck itself.
He did not seem to notice our entry as he continued to play. It was possible that he was determined to play the melody through to fruition that he was unwilling to let anything distract him from the completion of the song. He continued to hit the notes with perfect timing while he maintained that otherworldly grace that did all the speaking necessary to describe his dexterity. Miar made his way to Joel until he was right next to the piano, yet still no one in the tavern bothered to notice him. Miar was not enthralled by the music like me, Azaila, and the tavern's patrons. I don't know why it had so little of an effect on him, but it did.
The song came to an end. Consciousness seemed to return instantaneously to the bleak lives of the people of Granemor as a new melancholy dominated the scene around us. A life of hopelessness filled the hearts of these people, and there was nothing in the near future that would or could change that.
The demonic man at the piano arose to anything but Miar's dismay. He turned to the elf and spoke as he noticed him, "Oh, it's you, Miar. I wondered who had the audacity to clamor their way to where I was playing in the midst of while I was playing."
"I never was a musical type," Miar replied.
Joel had a short laugh, "I could believe that. Anyways... Why are you here? I thought that you got all that you needed to know."
"It just so happens that that isn't the case anymore," Miar responded, "Myodei's changed his patterns. "
"I'm failing to see where I come into play here," Joel stated.
Miar was quick to fix this, "You're not going to help with that, but we need every bit of info on Myodei and his accomplices, their history, their capabilities, everything. Something just tells me that you'd be the man for that."
Joel tried to divert the subject to something else, "Oh, who are your friends?"
Miar introduced us, "Well, the young man is Razen Veldrin. The lady is his younger sister, Azaila." Azaila blushed at this flattery.
"Well, Razen and Azaila Veldrin, I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance," Joel spoke softly, "I'm Joelithien, but I'm just known as Joel. The name's elvish if you're wondering." Once I finally was able to get a good look at him, my suspicions were confirmed: deep red skin, light maroon scales, and obsidian hair to boot. There was no denying it; he was a demon.
"What's a demon doing with an elvish name?" I asked.
"Wasn't born this way," Joel replied, "But the tale for how I turned Heck-born is a tale for another time. I think your friend's more interested in hearing about Myodei and his cohorts." Miar looked far more pleasant now as Joel did not seem to be avoiding the subject altogether. "Truth be told," Joel began, "I'm only the most knowledgeable about one of them, but he's also one of the strongest in their group. His name is Vyrdae. He's a darkness elemental."
"What is so special about him?" I queried.
"He is darkness," Joel replied short and sweet.
"Aren't all darkness elementals darkness though?" I asked.
"Yes, but it's different," Joel responded, "Vyrdae is literally one with the shadows and darkness around you. He lives for as long as night falls which I don't see that ceasing in the foreseeable future."
Miar raised his right brow as a reaction to this; it was news to him. "Do you know how to stop him then?" Miar inquired.
Joel contemplated this and seemed to reach a conclusion, "I think there is a way maybe two. I don't know how to kill him, but you could trap him in a place constantly flooded with light to prevent his escape. It'd be difficult to eliminate all of the darkness of any place though; let alone keeping it that bright. Anything else you want to know?"
"Yes," Miar stated, "What do you know about the others?"
Joel rubbed the stubble on his chin before he answered, "Well, Veqwei, the water one, produces an endless supply of water, and I don't even know of any water elemental that does that. It makes me think that he isn't really an elemental, but I'm not sure what else he could be. He was the first to follow Myodei, so I'm imagining that Myodei played a part in Veqwei's creation. I don't know much about Zynaer, the fire elemental; Dyjhal, the energy elemental; or Bazrir, the lich. I do know that before Vyrdae joined up with Myodei that he was just a step below a sub-lord of the Darkness Lord."
"He ranked that high?" Miar sounded scared now. It was with good reason too as a nigh-invulnerable darkness elemental that was closing up on being a sub-lord wouldn't make for an easy target to say the least. Azaila looked terrified; she hadn't known that Myodei and his company were this dangerous.
"You all look mighty spooked," Joel noted, "Planned on going after 'em, did ya? Oh, why am I bothering to ask. You're with Miar, so you're obviously after them. Give me just a bit, because I want to come with you three, but I've got to get some of my instruments."
"Wait, if it's so dangerous, then why do you want to go?" Azaila asked.
Joel smirked, "I need something to get me out of my composers' block, and this seems like the perfect remedy." He went up the rotting stairs as careful as one could imagine that a demon could. In a few minutes, he returned with a mandolin, a violin, a guitar, some drums, a harmonica, a trumpet, a flute, a viola, a cello, a harp, a clarinet, an oboe, a piccolo, and a grand piano. Most of the luggage was magically reduced in size; Joel would have been crushed under his belongings if they weren't shrunken.
"Do you have a whole orchestra upstairs or what?" Miar remarked as he saw the demon bard who had quite the impressive amount of luggage.
"No, but I've got just about every instrument that I'll ever need," Joel answered.
Joel was packed and ready. There were four of us now in this party: Me, Miar, Azaila, and Joel. I wasn't sure what Miar had in mind for where to go now.
The sphinx held up to her half of the deal. Cihali led Veqwei and Vyrdae to Jagos's current hiding place. She was certain that they'd get nothing out of Jagos. Before them was a massive dune, Vyrdae seemed suspicious and asked, "Are you sure that this is where Jagos is located?"
Cihali nodded, "Oh, yes, my people keep track of Jagos's location in hopes that he will tell us his secrets one day. He's somewhere in this dune, but I don't know exactly where."
Tonight must have been an odd night as it began to rain heavily. The sound of thunder shook most of the wildlife of the Skraeling Desert; it must have been the first one in quite some time. The sphinx dug into the sand to protect herself from the storm, so the elementals were left alone now in the vicious downpour. Vyrdae moved closer and closer to the gargantuan sand pile that was Jagos's makeshift home. Veqwei couldn't move the sand as he'd simply make each grain heavier, so Vyrdae had to move the sand for their entrance.
To a passerby, it would look like waves of darkness were assaulting the sand drift from seemingly nothing. Tens of thousands of grains of sand were moved with each motion. Vyrdae would find Jagos before much time transpired. As the darkness elemental tore away at the sand, Veqwei heard another creature digging.
Thunder struck once more, and it seemed to be covering the tracks of something ominous. Veqwei could not explain why or how he felt that there was some creature tracking them, but he did. He could see anything out of the ordinary as the shower made it difficult to see with the Oculi glasses. Without those glasses, they might as well have been blinded.
Fortunately, Vyrdae was still making great progress. Layer by layer, the dune gave way to his barrages. Jagos must have been the other creature that was digging as he burst free from the overwhelming dune.
The large insect-like creature that was Jagos appeared before them. His exoskeleton was gold and dark blue in color. His form bore a tail and four arms and legs. His four relatively tiny legs each came to a sharp point. His tail ended in the shape of a oval. Golden carapace stretched from the top of his head to the sides of his neck to about the middle of his back. The bravest adventurers are the only humans that wouldn't be daunted by his figure, but elementals were more accustomed to bizarre creatures such as Jagos.
"What is a darkness elemental and water golem doing in my abode?" Jagos declared, "Wait, is that... It can't be. There's no way that he would..." Jagos cut himself short as he instead decided to find out with certainty. He created at least tenSunrays from what seemed like thin air. The collective light from all of these elementals eliminated any and all shadows surrounding the trio. The spanning darkness that Vyrdae was part of was severed from him. An image projected itself onto Jagos's eyes. "Vyrdae," Jagos began again, "Why are you here?"
"We need to learn from you, Jagos," Vyrdae stated with a heavy heart.
"Learn from me?" Jagos queried, "Whatever happened to ascending to a sublord of Darkness to learn what you wanted without me? Did you just give up on that?"
"I was asked to kill a defenseless being," Vyrdae replied, "I couldn't do it. You know that."
"I don't recall the time when one considered doomknights harmless," Jagos snapped back.
"He was incapable of doing harm to anyone," Vyrdae declared, "Even as a doomknight, he would be harmless in such a condition."
"Doomknights are always dangerous," Jagos snapped, "And I will insist that you're a fool to disobey the Lord of Darkness on such a vital matter."
"He wasn't doing anything beyond injuring himself, Jagos," Vyrdae claimed, "I'm willing to bet that his death is part of why that region is as bad as it is now."
"You're blaming Darkovia on the Lord of Darkness?" Jagos inquired, "Don't you know that it was the werewolves? I've heard some rumors that the Stranger has some part to play in it."
"I wasn't blaming the Darkness Lord," Vyrdae explained, "I meant that killing that doomknight gave the Stranger more freedom."
"What do you mean?" Jagos asked with surprise at this theory.
"When I was there," Vyrdae began, "I felt his presence. He was there. I feel like that the doomknight managed to keep the Stranger with him somehow. I know that the Stranger has a connection with the Doom weapons, so I thought that it wasn't beyond reason to think that the doomknight bound the Stranger to his specific one, preventing the Stranger's leave."
"I would need to contemplate that theory long and hard," Jagos answered, "But I don't believe that you came here with this water golem to discuss the past. What is it that you want?"
Vyrdae seemed to ponder in his puddle of darkness, "Would I be correct to presume that you know Myodei?"
"The ice elemental that you've joined up with? Yes, I do," Jagos responded, "Why?"
"I want to know about the planes," Vyrdae stated.
"Why do you want to know about flying automaton?" Jagos jested.
"You know what I mean, Jagos," Vyrdae snapped, displeased by the fake lack of knowledge.
"Be a killjoy then," Jagos blurted out, "What is it that you want to know about the planes then?"
"We want to know everything that you know about traversing them as well as the theoretical creation of divisions of a plane, sub-planes," Vyrdae made certain that his speech was clear.
"If that's what you wanted to know," Jagos began, "Then I suppose that it is fortunate that you came to me. As coincidence would have it, I've actually been pondering those two subjects as of late..."
Shaemin was in the captain's quarters as per the norm. He sighed, "At least I'm getting paid for this." He knew that he couldn't betray these elementals; they'd have him shoveling the dirt to his own grave in less than a second if he tried. That was without mentioning that he had a forced sense of peace bearing upon him whenever he was in the vicinity of Myodei. Shaemin didn't know how to explain it, but his crew understood him perfectly nonetheless. The entire ship was on edge with these customers; Shaemin didn't know what he was getting himself into as usual for Shaemin Hovarion.
The last time that he got in over his head like this was when he was carrying relics of the Sand Elves into the port nearest to the Sandsea. Shaemin's silver tongue and metaphorically slimy exterior were the only things that kept him from losing at least an arm. Well, there was also the adventurer that Shaemin managed to blame in his stead, but the adventurer didn't really help matters much. The time before that, Shaemin was caught smuggling ice dragon eggs to sell as exotic pets, but when he was confronted by some furious ice dragons he managed to say that it was a dragon-slayer's doing rather than his own. There was even one time when he had kidnapped a princess, but she managed to slip away which seemed inconceivable to him really. There seemed to be a similar situation that Shaemin was involved in for each corner of the globe. If it wasn't smuggling, then it was stealing. If it wasn't stealing, then it was smuggling. Bootlegging also managed to find its way in there. Despite being the captain of a top-of-the-line ship, Shaemin was no better than a street rat.
His time in the business showed its signs all about his body, but his time in the business had made him all the wiser to when danger's looming his way. To the sailors, he had a sixth sense that could detect danger, but he knew that it was just a instinctual wisdom that had dawned upon him from his experience. There were few tricks that could get past his eagle eye, and those that could wouldn't be able to a second time around. The men considered him to be a worthy captain, and few thought of a mutiny. He didn't work them too strenuously, and he always seemed to be open to conversation with one of the lads.
There was a knock at his door, and Shaemin pulled himself up to walk over to see who it was. When he turned the barely rusty doorknob, he found that it was one of his cabin boys. The boy was no older than 15, and he was holding a letter of some sort. "It's...It's for you," He spoke sheepishly.
"Let me see it then," Shaemin reacted quickly and a tad more harshly than was necessary. His open hand was before the cabin boy who did as he was told and ran off to avoid any displeasure from the captain. Shaemin sighed once before opening the letter, "Let us just see what is in here." The parchment was a dull yellow, and the text was black like the ink of a braken.
Dear Captain Hovarion,
I have realized that I had left one part of our agreement unknown to you. There is a group of people after me and my associates, you see. There is at least two humans, a male and female, as well as an elven necromancer known as Miar Galiv. I do not doubt that they will be coming to Krovesport soon. During my stay in Talados, I request that you meet them in Krovesport and provide them transit to Talados.
You must be asking yourself, "Why would I do that?" The answer is: I know that they will get to Talados regardless, but I can pay you to deal with them for me. How you manage to do so is of no matter to me; however, I do ask that they are not to be killed. I do not wish for blood to be on my hands as you must understand.
Thank you for your assistance,
Myodei.
"Of course there would be a new part to our deal," Shaemin furrowed his brow in response, "Well, Myodei will have to make do in Talados for at least a week then."
Myodei had Mivak's recommendations in hand; he would read them when he returned to Mt. Shining Star. The ice elemental also picked up a few other postulations and theories on the working of planar mechanics. In total, he must have had at least twenty works in his possession. The majority of them he had agreed to purchase outright, and the few that the School of Knowledge refused to sell to him he borrowed. The two days that Shaemin had allotted for his stay at Deren were up, and the Braken's Bane was ready to set sail to Talados, the island renown for psionics. The voyage was not long or eventful as Talados was a relatively nearby place to Deren in comparison to Krovesport to Deren.
Bazrir and Dyjhal were also ready to leave the Braken's Bane. The ship came to a slow, eventual halt as it anchored down at the docks. The docks were made of the norm, wood. The docks soon gave way to the cold, cobblestone streets of the city. Men walked about in robes of green and yellow. Women strolled through the city wearing dresses made of white, green, red, and blue. They often had jewelry made of gold with Azru stones. The buildings were built of solid stone with large windows made of dull yellow glass.
Streets lined their way throughout the city in a web of infrastructure. Numerous statues of a hooded woman towered above the men and women as they stood twelve feet tall. These sculptures masked the stone pillars behind them which followed the edges of these winding roads. Between these pillars, there were short, stone walls that were built to be six feet tall. At the heart of the island was the research center of the secret order of psionicists that performed all forms of heinous experiments that would be considered unethical by even the maddest scientists.
Most of the passersby paid no attention to Myodei and his party. Those that did notice them did not seem friendly, but they did not necessarily seem hostile. The city seemed to possess apathy to them despite how odd that must have seemed to the usual villagers of Battlonia who would likely be screaming and fleeing in terror until they amassed a mob. Their relations usually encompassed fear and hatred in a terrible combination. The people of Talados were likely more accustomed to such sights like the people of Deren who would encounter elementals on a far more usual basis than others.
The three of them had wandered around for a little while to capture a feeling of the general layout of the city. They were in the Market District which made sense since the Docks were nearby. To their left, there was the main research facilities of the city, and their right bore the residential area. They had no business to their right, so they went left. The statues of hooded women began to become more sparse until they simply were not present. They were truly in the depths of the Psionists' playground, but they did not feel that this was the case. The area looked quite normal and bore few external differences with the rest of Talados.
After some time had passed, one of the more nervous people had come up to them. "Are... Are any of you Myodei?" The man asked with hesitation overbearing his being.
"Who is asking, and why?" Myodei queried.
"Maelikar," The man answered, "He knew that you would be coming for information from your... imp. He... He is the leader of a division of psionists that is unknown to most of the people of Talados."
"Why tell me that then?" Myodei inquired. The man gave no response as he realized his mistake. "It does not matter," Myodei stated, "I will see Maelikar, and we will discuss what I assume is the negotiations for the release of my associate. It is inconvenient for me to allow him to continue being imprisoned."
"All... Alright then," The man spoke, "Follow... Follow me." The man led them into one of the buildings through twists and turns of hallways and corridors until they reached a conference room of some sort. A circular table rested in the middle of the room with Taladosian inscriptions lining the upper rim of it. On the middle of this table, there was a cage that bound an imp from Heck to its confines. Chains that bound its hands and feet to the lining of the cage prevented it from opening a portal to Heck or any other realm. The imp did not have the will, spirit, or stamina to resist its bindings. Around the table, there was a group of fourteen psionists waiting for them. The eldest among them was most likely to be Maelikar.
"Ah, our guest of honor has finally arrived," The eldest man spoke, "I see that you have only brought a few of your companions with you."
Myodei responded, "I have indeed done both of those. Based on the contents of the cage, I assume that you have my associate. What do you want in return for his freedom?"
"I have heard that one of your companions had come upon a book that is now all but extinct," The eldest man continued, "It was a theory on the manipulation of life through the use of Psionics which would be an invaluable asset to my organization, you see, as it would further our research by leaps and bounds."
"I understand," Myodei replied, "How did you or your organization come upon the imp for that matter?"
The eldest man answered, "The imp has been around for longer than I've been around. I never heard how it got here myself, so I would be lying if I said that I had the answer to what you ask. ...Hmm, how rude of me, I did not introduce myself. I am Maelikar, the eldest member and leader of the Order of Change. We have been called radicals, eccentric, and a few other things that I care not to mention, but that is irrelevant to our discussion, is it not?"
"It is indeed irrelevant, Maelikar," Myodei affirmed, "But it does make me more wary of giving you what you want. At the same time, I need the information that that imp can provide me, so I cannot refuse your offer unless I wished to end you and your order which I do not. I suppose that forces my hand to provide you with what you want. Dyjhal, are you willing to part with the book?"
The energy elemental did not seem to need to ponder the answer, for he knew the answer already. He replied, "Yes, I already know the book in its entirety, so I do not need to keep it in my possession." He reached for one of the inner pockets of his vest and unveiled his leather-bound tome that had a creature bearing three eyes upon its head on the cover. The book had managed to remain in a beautiful condition despite Dyjhal's extended possession of it. He walked towards Maelikar and handed him the tome carefully.
Myodei did not speak; Dyjhal commented, "The imp will be released now. I will take my tome back if he is not released. I hope you understand." The psionists did not waste time with giving a verbal response as they began to free the imp from its prison. The cage door was opened first, and the locks binding its hands to the cage were undone immediately after. The imp's legs were freed following that rather quickly. It flapped its wings freely for the first time in at least a hundred years as it stretched its arms and legs.
"Ah, it's so nice to be free from that Heck," The imp declared, "And I'm used to Heck." The imp was dull purple in coloration with reddish brown scales and horns that spiraled. Its eyes were a bright, vivid red. Its legs ended in three-toed hoofs. It was the size of a preteen child. As it flapped its wings with such speed that their shape was difficult to interpret, the imp began to raise itself from the ground. The imp looked like a monster from a children's tale. He put his claws together and popped his knuckles before be flew down to the ground, placed his hand on the ground, and opened a portal to Heck itself.
Within seconds, the imp returned in a portal that was identical in nature. He smirked as he remarked, "I've still got it, Myodei."
Maelikar asked, "Are we done here as I do not wish to keep you from whatever your business is with this... creature?"
"I believe so, Maelikar," Myodei stated, "Have fun with your... research." Myodei thought for a second, "Wait, before I go, do you know any place where we may stay for the time being?"
"There's the Lavish Lighthouse in the Trade District, I believe," Maelikar replied.
Amendment: Future readers of this are likely more versed with the descendant of Maelikar who is known as Makkisar and the creator of Carnax.