"All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream."

Unknown

Eregureta (Location):
 Zauafin (Universe): A-137
Vaka'Vellomiv Drueta (Plane of Shadows and Ice)
Etak'Garuot Ikkorivarub Druetan (Class-One Restricted Planet): A-01/JF/R4-O2
Krumk'Hima (Jon-Flor): Malithzea'Vetru (Isle of Malithzea)

Bixak (Date):
 Uxsokewequakeh (Approximately): 4,600,000,000 B.C.
Kras'Elpa (Age of the Fey - also known as the Dark Times)

In the glistening expansion that was space, and within a small pocket of the unknown universe, a solitary and rather average-sized moon did bask in the ever-warming light of its only sun.

It was only minor, the galaxy in which this natural satellite did reside within; all but a small number of planets and sub-planets having been drawn into the gravitational pull of an undersized sun - and of which even fewer moons did circumnavigate them.

However, and as this lunar satellite did continue to bathe in these solar rays, the only true provision of heat and light within the otherwise dark abyss it inhabited, this moon (known locally as Quen'Tani, or 'Queta' for short) did reflect those very same beams down onto the darkened surface of the planet it orbited and provided the lands below with a secondary source of both heat and light while their primary was compelled to be elsewhere.

And as these mirrored rays of solar light did reflect of Queta's pale surface, washing over the planet of Krumk'Hima just as it had done since the first time this moon had learnt of its place within the universe - and would continue to do so up until the day its creators had deemed its duty complete - they sparkled across the shallow waters of T'Tylzar's Bay and home of the Elokzal, illuminating the Islands of T'Tylzimaze and reach far and wide across the four lands of Malithzea - before they were abruptly absorbed into an emerald-green gem that was inlaid within a raised crimson staff just on the outskirts of the city of Godeghym.

"It was known as the Kras'Elpa, or the 'Age of the Fey'."

Moments later, a blinding light did explode from the gem, rivalling that of the coming dawn and the return of the sun, and did bathe the Valley of Skrymor with its brilliant emerald radiance.

CREE-CRA-KABOOM!

And as this light did reach its peak, forcing all eyes to turn away, an explosion rocked through the village, sending shockwaves and tremors through the ground underfoot as the power released from the raised sceptre took out not only its wielder's foe, but the tower in which the creature had been in the process of destroying as well.

"Rrrrooooaaarrrr!"

As the dust settled around the fallen tower, the light retreating to allow night to reclaim its grasp once again over the lands, the dying roar of a great Noebku'Eruab sounded through the air; the Jixiregi who had caused its death - along with the destruction of the tower - no longer anywhere to be seen.

"A time when the creatures of myth and legends did roam freely across the Four Lands of Malithzea."

Across the valley and on the outskirts of the Forest of the Fey, the startled cry of a Gakaruzi suddenly cut through the air as she was knocked from her hooves; the weight of some larger and far greater beast colliding into her side and causing both assailant and assailed to go crashing to the ground.

The flash of metal and wood was quick to follow the beast's path, the feathered tail of an arrow barely being noticed as it sailed over the filly's rump and lodged itself deeply into the two-headed hound that had knocked her down.

However her outcry had been swiftly followed by another - multiple calls that seemed to hold an echo of the beyond. And before the Centaur could manage to get her hooves back under her, both she had her saviour found themselves having been outwitted and outnumbered as the wounded Nokerozab made a quick retreat, the Hellhound easily brushing off what damage the arrow may have done as it re-joined the rest of its now-circling pack.

And there did they face off, the seven snarling and snapping two-headed Hellhounds that were the Bikuro'Nokerozabo, against the downed Centaur filly and her armed and ready defender. But before the beasts could launch their latest attack, or even before the defenders could think of a way to protect themselves, a sizzling bolt of lightning struck the earth between the two opposing forces; searing the ground and leaving the air smelling of burnt ozone and foliage.

"It was, however, also a time riddled with war..."

The hauntingly familiar BANG! continued to ring in Lord Theron Silverthorn's ears even as the faint whizzing of the metal projectile that he knew to follow such a sound did pass far too close to his head for his liking.

The Lord of Baquiraheal ignored both however, drowning each out with the pained cry of surprise being cut short, distorting and transforming into that of a gurgling splutter as an Arkentor suddenly found themselves unable to breath after the blade of Theron's sword sliced easily through the Elf's throat - and effectively brought an end to their little skirmish.

The dark-haired Auvrean did not stop to see the outcome of his handiwork, his focus and body already having shifted onto his next opponent and the Arkentor's kin; turning his full attention solely onto the one whom had just come far too close to claiming his life with a weapon stolen from his very own people. And with a wild swing of his sword, Theron managed to buy himself all but a few precious seconds in order to try and recatch his breath as the she-Elf was forced to retreat from the iron that did taint his blade.

Theron had barely taken in the death of the great Tunnel-Wyrm, the Noebku'Eruab Otoxoutovpaki that had already cost him far too many men; the roar of blood in his ears, along with the echoing ring of the bullet succeeding in drowning out all other distractions and reminding Theron that the battle - the war was far from over.

There was no time to celebrate the death of the Wyrm, even if Seku'suvain Skrymor's final bellow did still resonate throughout the very valley that the Guardian of the East had been named after. And so Theron put no effort into trying, the Lord of Baquiraheal all but pushing aside the death of the Noebku'Eruab the moment it had transpired as he ran his sword through the she-Elf that had dared to use one of his own weapons against him. He was far too preoccupied with the fight currently - and quite physically at hand; Theron already having to forcing himself to ignore the way his muscles were screaming for respite; a thick sheen of sweat covering his battle-weary limbs even as the air of the valley was chilled with the promise of snow that heralded winter's arrival.

But, and as seemingly unimportant as the thought was at that very moment in time, the Lord of Godeghym was rather grateful for the gloves he had donned before the battle, managing to easily wrap his leather-covered fingers around the slippery and bloody hilt of his sword before reefing it free from the fallen Arkentorian's chest.

As the fight did continue, however, something about Seku'suvain's death did cause a disquiet to begin niggling away at the back of Theron's mind; a sensation that had the Auvrean feeling as though he had dismissed a rather crucial piece of information even as the cheers and shouts of, "The Lord of the East has fallen!" did continue to echo through the air around him.

"Despite their shortened lifespans and mortality, the Cursed One's of Melagunhil found that they did prosper behind the Rahealpatur; the 'Great Barrier' of unknown energy that protected them from the Magical realm beyond the Valley of Skrymor and Forest of the Fey."

"Return to whence it is you came," the rumbling voice of a pale-haired Auvrean did growl, the Warlock who had taken out the tower and Tunnel-Wyrm destroying it having appeared between the Centaur and Hellhounds and staring each of the seven Bikuro'Nokerozabo down.

Power crackled around his form, energy like living eels all but surging from the staff within his grasp as it was suddenly slammed into the ground. And a shadow's shadow did begin to take shape behind him; and emerald-green beast with its own multiple heads and great gapping maws filled with dagger-like teeth appearing within the swirling, surging mass of energy as the connection between Warlock and Eyllismitore's true realm was forged. And the gem cradled delicately within the sceptre pulsed; power and radiance once more recreating the illusion of a green sunrise.

"By the will of Uquo'aki Xu'pheus and the treaty he crafted between Mortal and Fey, I do banish thee back to the Coven of the Grave."

'SNAP!'

As if acting as a physical insinuator for his words, the end of the Warlock's staff broke off in the ground - and in a way that could have been perceived as the very land itself taking it as payment for the use of its powers. And before the seven Hellhounds of Death could even figure out the significance such a move held, the clinking of metal collars and chains could suddenly be heard like echoing whispers upon the wind; growing louder and louder and laying over and over one another before they all but blinked themselves into existence around each of the two-headed Nokerozabo; chains that were undeniable binding them to their Mortal 'Masters' straining and groaning even as their ends did disappear into places unknown and unseen.

"Mark my words, know my... threat," the Jixiregi continued, his voice taking on a deeper, richer timbre as it itself became overlapped with another's; one that was undeniably older and far more ancient. Power and magick continued to crackle around both him and his shadow's shadow like vipers in search of prey, snaking their way around both and striking out at anything and everything that dared to stray too close.

"Cekuak'Jixiregito; to the Witches of the Grave. I do call thee out. Heed my warning and know I speak no lies. For when this night is through and come thy morning, the descendants of your kin shall no longer live; the price of your betrayal far too much for even Lord Mikuski'Noxiko to forgive."

The moment the name of their Arkentorian Lord and Master had passed the man's lips, the 'magical vipers' still circling and winding their way around the Warlock's form suddenly struck out at the collars that hung around each of the seven Hellhounds' necks, the very things that bound the Bikuro'Nokerozabo to the Cekuak'Jixiregito and the Coven of the Grave snapped and caused a bone-chilling breeze to whip about the clearing.

A silence so eery as it was still did descend upon the odd group, movement coming to a complete standstill. And the two Gakaruzi glanced fearfully between each two-headed beast and the pale-haired Warlock who had just released them.

...almost as if they were waiting for the Hellhounds true Master to suddenly appear.

"But soon, and even despite the safety of the Rahealpatur, nothing could be done to quell their need to expand; their numbers growing unlike any could recall seeing before - even while the wild lands that did make up their Five Courts remained far too few."

It took a moment for each of the two-headed Hellhounds to understand what had just transpired, their once cold and wrathful eyes turning confused as they all but blinked themselves back to reality. Snarls, barks, and growls did soften into whines and whimpers as the all-consuming rage that had the Nokerozabo seeking blood - anyone's blood disappeared.

Though it did not take the pack's Alpha to be the first to notice what had changed, the great beast stilling so suddenly and with such an eeriness the moment its four eyes landed on the collar and chain that now lay broken in pieces at its feet. Those same four orange-red eyes then did raise from the remnants of the bond that had forced the Hellhounds of Death into becoming the unwilling servants of Mortals and to the Jixiregi, the knowledge that he was now finally free from such an unnatural bond slowly sinking into the Alpha's mind even as his gaze met the hardened, though unhateful eyes of the Auvrean responsible for said freedom.

Multiple ears flickered, tails slowly beginning to wag as the rest of the Alpha's pack came to that same realisation. And it wasn't long until Sokvagu was pinned to the spot by thirteen pairs of eyes, one of the Alpha's heads turning its gaze instead towards the sceptre that was still embedded into the earth.

Without a sound, the Hellhound did approach the man, neither head leaving their chosen target. But four ears flickered and swivelled, sharp teeth being revealed as lips pulled upwards and into an almost snarl when the beast picked up the immutable sounds of distress the filly made at his move. The two-headed hound made no other indication that he had heard the Gakaruzi as he finally came to a stop before Sokvagu however, the Jixiregi still just staring him down with not a trace of fear tainting his scent.

And it was only when the Alpha inhaled deeply through his nose and mouth, taking in that very scent did he blink all four of his eyes; both heads turning to focus solely onto the Warlock and ignoring the sceptre that was in Sokvagu's hand, zeroing in on the aroma that was all but radiating from the Auvrean.

The continued release of power from the gem cradled within the sceptre was not done in warning it seemed. Well, not as it begun to release another scent into the air. It was one that seemed to blend perfectly with the Warlock's own, and when combined caused the pack's Alpha to snuff it in almost greedily; centuries of teachings and lessons being rewritten within its mind in but an instant as it came to realise that this Warlock - this Auvrean-who-was-not-quite-so was connected to the very Parent-Gods themselves - to his very own Lord and Master.

And as this knowledge did sink into the Alpha's mind, it was as if a switch had been flicked, the leader of the seven Bikuro'Nokerozabo becoming nothing more than a simpering pup; the two-headed, monstrous beast almost knocking Sokvagu from his feet as it made certain to run as much of its scent over the Warlock's clothes and body, his tail wagging up a storm as he took in the blending of his own scent with that of his Lady Mother's and Lord Father's before he was suddenly dashing off with a deep, double-layered bark that reverberated through the air - puppy once more becoming the alpha and hunter that Lord Mikuski'Noxiko and Death Himself was said to have bred and trained as he led his pack towards a new, though far more preferable prey.

Sokvagu, former Master-turned-Rogue Jixiregi could only watch on with no little fascination as the Hellhounds disappeared towards the direction of the Forest of the Fey. And when they had vanished from his sight, the young man cracked his neck, a blond eyebrow raising upon his forehead as he glanced down to his clothes.

"Dogs," was grumbled half-heartedly under his breath as he tried to rid the fabric of the alpha's fur. However he was distracted when the air around him suddenly grew thick with an uncontrolled, crackling energy. A pulse of power filled the clearing, green light once more chasing away the darkness of the night, and Sokvagu barely had enough time to become aware of the cause.

"No!"

It was all the Warlock could get out before both he and the two Centaur he'd just saved were all thrown backwards as the gem within his sceptre exploded.

"And so with their need for more land, the Auvreans did turn their gaze away from their own dwindling territory and to the realms beyond the Rahealpatur."

"The Great Wyrm is dead!"

The victory cheer - one that Theron felt was far too early given that the he was still fighting - went all but ignored by the Auvrean as he sliced through the tissue, muscle, and bone of an Elokzal's leg before following the attack through with another swing of his sword that finally managed to detach the fiend's head from its shoulders to make certain that there was no way the merman would be able to recover the fatal loss of limb.

Though as he straightened, turning in order to locate his next opponent, Theron was almost blinded by the flash of green light - right before another explosion rocked the Valley of Skrymor. As he steadied himself, barely managing to stay on his feet however, the Lord of Baquiraheal was suddenly hit with what had been bothering him about the Tunnel-Wyrm's death.

If the so-called 'Arkentorian God' and Noebku'Eruab Shapeshifter had truly fallen; one who had actually been the Lord of the most Eastern Lands of Melagunhil before this blasted war had even begu-

"Where's his Mate?!" Theron suddenly hollered over the clash of battle, deflecting a rather clumsy blow from a one-armed Arkentorian hybrid with the hilt of his blade and returning the creatures' audacity to attack him by removing their last remaining arm and running them through.

"HHHHNNN-HHHNNNNN-HHHNNNRRRROOOOOAAAARRRRR!"

A sudden and ground-quaking roar that exploded from the south and deep within the Forest of the Fey did come as the Lord's answer. And it was as if time itself had come to a sudden and screeching halt within the valley, even as Theron pulled his sword free from the now-deceased hybrid; all heads and attention snapping in the direction and source of the outburst echoing deep from within the Realm of Eyllismitore.

It truly had been a foolish misjudgement on his part, the Auvrean could admit as he watched the star-speckled skies above the Forest of the Fey and entrance into Eyllismitore become obscured; a dark, gigantic shape beginning to take form within an unnaturally occurring purple haze; to think that an Arkentorian God wouldn't have planned ahead and utilized everything within his arsenal in order to protect not only his lands, but those of his Jenny-Mate's as well.

The bond between Arkentors, between Lord Seku'suvain and his Mate Auv'raheil, had all but been dismissed by the courts - by Seku'suvain's very own son. And it hadn't even crossed Theron's own mind as to how peculiar such a thing was until that very instance in time, his close relations within the Courts and the only Arkentorian member, one Seku'suvain Skrymor having seeming clouded his judgement far more than he could ever have perceived.

But what Theron did know was that Seku'suvain and his Jenny-Mate would have had to have been the last remaining mated Arkentorian pair that he knew of. And to think that the Shapeshifting Lord - the so-called 'God' of the Mountains and Earth would have actually gone to such lengths, utilising the complete and full power - the magick that did bond him to his Jenny of a Mate; a bond that when broken would only result in one to feel nothing more than an agonising emptiness of said bond upon the other's demise, as well as the added outrage because of said loss-

Theron almost dropped his sword as he suddenly pivoted on his heel, all but diving for the banner that he'd been making certain remained upright until his men could break through the opposing forces that had separated them - the very banner that told all that the Lord of the North still did fight amongst them.

And ripping it out of the ground, barely managing to avoid a decapitating blow from an opportunistic Goblin and returning the attack with one of his own, Theron begun to wave the banner back and forth frantically with the hopes that his message would be received.

"To the caves!"

"The waters to the South belonged to the Elokzal of T'Tylzimaze, and were useless to beings who needed both land and oxygen to survive. And the mountains to the West, home of the Orleneldth Dragoons and the location of Guild of The After, were far too treacherous for such Mortals to trek."

The thud! of an arrow sinking into the ground wherein Theron had just been standing went unseen and unnoticed by the brown-haired Auvrean, the man barely managing to block a cleaving blow in time with the banner he'd been forced to use as his only means of defence, and watching helplessly as the wooden shaft snapped in two as the axe in possession of the Orc he was facing easily sliced through it.

And as Theron dived under the Arkentor's next swing, the menacing axe coming far too close to cutting him in half, he rolled out of his dive and took up a position to retaliate; pivoting on the heel of one foot as he simultaneously raised one of the snapped shafts in his opposite hand.

The action was found to be unneeded however, the Orc that Theron had been forced to face with nothing more than the very banner he'd been trying to rally his men with falling to the ground at his feet with a spear protruding from its back.

"About time you got 'ere!" the Lord of the Baquiraheal remarked with no little relief - even as he turned his back on the fallen Arkentor and the one responsible for taking it down to search for his blade, all the while he took down his next opponent and worked to rid his lands of their presence.

His saviour said nothing at first as they moved to position themselves at his back, barely managing to raise their shield in time as they went to recover their spear from the fallen Orc and deflected another arrow before it could find its mark. Though the moment that Vinu Haldres had settled herself in the familiar position at her cousin's six, fighting with ease back-to-back with Theron, she shouted, "The caves are blocked!" even as her gaze continued to be drawn towards the looming shadow that was growing ever so closer from the south; her thoughts circling on the precious seconds she felt better spent on trying to take the approaching Dragoon down being instead wasted by the need to defend herself and her cousin from the invading Auvrean forces.

"Lord Natori and his men are trapped within the tunnels!" she continued as she finally managed to tear her eyes away from the approaching jenny and back to the battle at hand. "We need to take Auv'raheil down! If she makes it to the wall..."

Vinu didn't have to say anything more, her cousin already well aware as to what would occur if a blooded and bond-broken Dragoon did happen upon the already weakened Rahealpatur - so-called Goddess or not. And again the Lord of Baquiraheal found himself questioning as to why such a bond between Arkentorian Soulmates had never crossed his mind before, Theron being able to recall in a moment of obscure clarity all the scriptures and journals, the tales and stories that any Auvrean living upon Jon-Flor knew that outlined the same eventual outcome of what were to happen if someone were stupid enough to go and break a bond between Magical Soulmates; a raging, mindless beast that was all but nigh impossible to kill.

But the Leader of the North's most current train of thought also brought about a feeling of satisfaction, and a manic grin did begin to work its way upon his lips - even as he moved to decapitate his latest target.

Seku'suvain Skrymor and his Mate had been Eyllismitore's final guardians.

If Theron and his cousin could just figure out a way to take down the raging Dragoon - if they could not only take down the so-called 'Goddess of the Rivers and Seas', but also the current ruler of the Nine Clans of T'Tylzimaze as well...

The battle- NO!

The entire WAR for Malithzea would be all but won.

"But in the Lands of the East and within the burgeoning Realm of Eyllismitore did one rogue Auvrean see visions of their new home..."

The anguished cry of a great beast echoed through the woods somewhere to the left of a running figure - and did absolutely nothing to quell the way twin hearts were pounding within the confides of a heaving chest.

And as that very same torso begun to burn with such a savage intensity that caused every inhale and exhale taken to feel as though someone was trying to force knives into its side in order to pierce the straining lungs hidden within; sharp stabbing pains beginning to occur with every panted breath taken - Elyav decided to just ignore the whole bloody lot as she continued to dash and weave her way through the trees; dodging and ducking under their branches and scrambling through a shallow stream before making her way up a rocking incline in her haste.

However, the double-layered barks, a pack of some kind of Arkentorian hound passing far too close to her location than she would have wished forced Elyav right and away from the direction the sounds were coming from; fear pushing bare, scrapped, and bleeding feet to go faster - and all but quelling that little voice within her head that had dared to question if her brother truly would have stooped so low to actually hunt her down like some kind of wild animal or rogue shapeshifter.

As the heavy weight at the redhead's side stirred however, a faint warbling cry reminding her as to why she was currently running away from the person she'd once thought of as her brother - adopted or not - the teenager slipped her hand inside the makeshift pack created from some discarded furs at her side, trying to quieten the occupant hidden within.

Neither movement did little to slow the girl down, Elyav making quick work of scrambling her way up another incline, clambering for purchase on the thick stems and bushes with her free hand and using the flora to aide her onwards and upwards and towards the hills' crest.

She could still hear the churning, gushing river that marked the border of the Eastern Lands and the beginning of the Forest of the Fey ahead and found that the sound calmed her racing hearts if by a fraction; the knowledge that the Realm of Eyllismitore and the safety the lands of the Gods would provide not only herself, but the young life she currently carried did lay just beyond the river.

"Oh, Elyav... why did you have to go and make this so much harder for yourself?!"

The taunting voice coming from behind the teenager did nothing to slow her steps. If anything if fed her fear, shooting adrenaline directly into an already overly-stressed bloodstream the moment Elyav realised just how close the owner of the voice was.

And with a burst of newfound speed and strength, the girl disappeared over the ridge of the hill.