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[atira thormear]

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Atira was upset and confused, she thought long and hard about her father’s alignment. She was perplexed as to how he could be so naïve to believe in the virtues. How could he choose an army over his family? She knew she needed to intervene, to make him see that he was walking around blindly. After all, the darkness was nearly upon them.

She threw her cape around her shoulders and quickly made her way to Moonglow. Samon was in the temple, just as she had hoped, kneeling upon the floor. He turned towards her and looked her over.

”Atira, is that you?” He smirked as she nodded. ”You have grown up so quickly.” She had always been very fond of Samon. He had always given her advice whenever she asked and despite his strong beliefs in the virtues, he seemed to be very well learned. What brings you to Verity Island?”

”Tell me about my father’s past.” She sat down and looked to him.

He paused for a moment and then answered, ”Well Atira, I do not know a lot of the details, but I can tell you what I know. When I first met your father he was a part of a group called the Legion of Justice. Not very evil sounding, because they weren’t, but they could have taken six men and taken out Moonglow, Umbra and Sanctus at full force. Very scary thought. Justice is a thing of interpretation, which is even scarier. From there I saw your father come to Moonglow which is when I decided to do a little research on the man who was to become Chancellor. Your father does have a bit of a checkered past and had he not been so honest with Moonglow, I do not know if they had been able to trust him.”

”Do you know of Tarothin Armunn?”

”Yes, I have heard of him.”

”Your father was once part of the Dark Order Army.”

Atira found this hard to believe. ”How could he fight for them, but he now stands against his own family in the name of virtue?” She was growing more annoyed.

”You are the perfect example of how it is possible he could have served.”

”What do you mean?”

”Do you think you would exist if your mother had not…how do I put this…lets put it honestly…tricked your father into the events that made you into existence?” She had never before thought about it in such a way and she finally started to understand where Samon was headed.

”There are many that believe that even the darkest magic cannot effect the pure soul. If you go by that logic, it means your father’s soul was not pure when he fell into your mothers trap.” He stopped a moment and took a step closer. ”Your father showed signs of his darker side even here in Moonglow as Captain.”

Samon smiled to Atira as it all seemed to come together. Then he said exactly what she had come to hear, ”Deep down inside of him, I believe the evil waits.”

”Do you believe it would be possible that his mind could be changed again by the impurities, as you call it, of my soul?”

”I think that a time has not come for him to be seriously tested on his loyalties. I have heard stories about the battle at the Lycaeum. I do not remember hearing anyone say your father went after your mother. I am betting that he steered away from her. I am sure your mother could be the greatest fighting in Umbra, but your father would still convince Moonglow that there were greater threats.”

”Do you really believe that?”

”I will until I have seen otherwise. For a man with so much supposed hatred for the woman and the beliefs she encompasses he spends a lot of time in Umbra, a lot of time with children he never wanted.” He paused a moment and stared at her, she could tell her had caught on to what she was planning. ”You know, Atira, the easiest way to make him choose where is loyalties lie would be to get in trouble here in Moonglow, to the point where he must choose between your life or keeping justice on Verity.”

She stood up and put on her most outraged expression. ”Me, I would never…” A smirk crossed her lips as she stood in front of him. ”Nothing said here can be repeated, nothing.” She held out her arms to hug him.

”Of course, I will say nothing. Honesty as my witness, I will say nothing.”

The return home left much time to think over what she had just learned. She knew there was much more she needed to know and after a night of sleep she would head out again to continue learning about her father and her enemy.

[Tay Thormear]

---

The area around him was hazy, his clothes were covered in blood. Scholars and other citizens hurried out his way. Beowulf seemed to be dead set on this one room, nothing disturbing his stride. His hand raised quickly, shoving a young boy aside.

"Out of my way peasant." The words trickled coldly from the old mans lips.

As the boy skittered across the ground, Beowulf neared the desired room. It was filled with Scholars, all whom of which wanted to figure out the route of the ritual. They turned abruptly to the loud sigh of the retired Captain.

"Out, now." Beowulf spoke, his eyes darting between each individual. "I said now!"

They filed out, some more slowly than the others. One of the older scholars passed Beowulf now, smirking and shaking his head as he left the room. Beowulfs head snapped around quickly, his last string had been cut. His temper quickly taking over, "Flam Kal Des Ylem!" was the last words heard by the, now small, group of Scholars. They dropped to the ground like piles of sacked wheat, balls of molten fire and lava bounced across the golden bricked ground.

With the room completely empty he felt at ease. Beowulf strutted up and down the small rows of wooden book cases. He wasn't quite sure what he was on a hunt for, until his eye caught a book that seemed to stick out. The old man rushed towards the book, "A Cold History", he lifted it from it's chosen spot and stared at the cover. A reflect of a younger Beowulf starred back with cold, dark eyes. The book case next to him began to shake violently. The edges molding into an oval shape, everything evaporated and turned into a black hole.

With "A Cold History" gripped in his hands, Beowulf stood before a black portal. He stepped forwards and disappeared from the Lycaeum. His body spiraled, what seemed to be downwards, his arms and legs flailing around. He refused to let go of the book, no matter how hard his body was pulled.

A cold breeze surrounded his body, a mist of water gently sprayed against his cheek. The ocean waves crashed into the small dirt ledge just off the porch. He stared forwards, his eyes fixed on the Armunn Keep and the gates of Dark Cove. The black portal had dropped him on the porch of his old home in Dark Cove. Beowulf stepped off the porch, confused and slightly disgruntled, he began to venture around the surrounding area. What he saw next was confusing, but slightly understandable.

A younger Beowulf stood out front the Armunn Keep. Ceinwyn and Mairsil thrashed back and forth, practicing sword and magic. Ditto hugging and kissing the human form of Tarothin. A group of dark soldiers patrolled the perimeter. They walked directly towards the older Beowulf. Gripping the book tightly he began to mutter a spell, the soldiers walked right through him. It was apparent now, that this was a memory, not a physical visit. He continued to watch on, feeding on his distant memories.

Matty rushed in towards the younger Beowulf, he thrust hard with his Cutlass. The blow was deflected by a sheild and followed up with a bolt of energy. Again, Matty turned around and rushed back into Beowulf. With a quickly thrust the young Beowulf cut a gash across Matty, causing him to bleed profusely. "Vas Ort Flam, Kal Vas Flam!" he yelled.

"Such sloppy technique I had..."

The ground began to shake violently, another black portal had been formed in front of the invisible Beowulf. Once again, he stepped through. The same gripping pulled ripped him downwards and dropped him at a different location.

Now he watched, as a young Beowulf faced a group of people. He couldn't put his finger on who it was, but he knew he recognized the faces. Unsure of the exact location, he could merely watch from the sidelines.

A man stood beside a woman, with three children. The mother stepped forward, shaking slightly, and handing a pouch to Beowulf. Only a smirk was returned and his sword was quickly unsheathed. The younger Beowulf thrust forwards, dragging the blade across the mothers throat, spinning quickly he drove the blade backwards into the fathers chest. The three children crammed together and watched as the stranger killed their parents.

Beowulf, the elder, stood at the side watching the massacre. A single tear ran down his cheek, he wanted to stop himself. He wanted to help the family, yet he felt intrigued to watch.

"Corp Por!" Scremed the younger Beowulf, bolts of energy cut through each of the children.

"Halt!" Hollered a group of soldiers. Four men rushed towards Beowulf with their swords drawn.

"Vas Ort Flam! Kal Vas Flam!" Were the only words returned from the lone mans voice.

One of the soldiers erupted in flames and fell to the ground. The three pressed on, almost unaware that one of their comrades had been killed. Beowulf pulled his sheild off his back and welcomed the on coming soldiers.

"An Ex Por!" A soldier stopped dead in his tracks. The other two kept on running forward. "Rel Por." Beowulf disappeared from his spot and ended up yards behind of the soldiers. He was face to face with the lone soldier, stuck in his spot. "In Sanct Ylem!" A large stone wall erupted from the ground, blocking the two soldiers from Beowulf and their comrade.

"You were foolish to come here." Beowulf spoke low, his tone seemed empty. Beowulf, the elder, watched in amazement. His lack of remorse, honor and compassion, brought him such power. His youth had not even paused to consider sparring the soldiers lives.

The stone wall dropped, the two soldiers looked directly towards the younger Beowulf. His kasa covered his eyes just enough to block them from view. The second soldier lay dead at his feet.

"Kal Vas Xen Corp." The four eyes of the two soldiers opened widely as a Daemon appeared in front of the pair. "Kill." Were the last words the pair would ever hear.

Beowulf sat straight up suddenly, his surroundings different now. He sat in a comfortable bed, surrounded in dark walls and dark furniture. Audrina rolled over and faced the opposite way. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. A glimpse of what was, a glimpse of his drive for power and respect.

He made his way across the room and stepped out onto the balcony. He looked out across the lands of Umbra. His four children slept in rooms just near him, his twin sons, one smart, one nearly as dumb as an orc. His twin daughters, one so grown and so much like her mother, the other one basically given up for dead. His adopted son lived down the road. Had this been the life he had planned to end up with? The Temple of Honesty in Moonglow, the virtues trying to guide him, and his family in Umbra who were disgusted by the thought of virtues. Was his life suppose to be such a clash? What did he have to show for his years of devotion to...nothing?

[atira thormear]

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Atira pulled the shroud over her face and walked through the caves leading into Sanctus. Dominick trailed behind her, slaying each and every creature as they walked. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say to Tatiana, she had never really spoke with her before.

She stood at the entrance of the shop and stared inward. Tatiana was there and turned to face her seemingly startled. ”Who is there?” She asked.

Atira pulled down her hood after making sure no one else was about. Tatiana smiled invitingly and walked towards her. ”Hello. How can I help you?”

”I was actually hoping we could talk,” she paused a moment,”about my father.”

”Of course. Let’s go upstairs and sit.”

Atira turned to Dominick, ”Stay here. I will not be too long. Be careful.” He smiled, happy not only to have a friend, but to be in Sanctus.

She took no time after small talk to dive into what she was really there for. ”I want to know more about my father and his darker times. I want to know what that was like, what he was like.”

Tatiana squirmed slightly on her bench, but replied. ”There are something I cannot tell you as even I don’t know, yes he had darker times and brighter ones. Why do the dark times matter? He has moved beyond them.”

Atira could not risk Tatiana being suspicious so she quickly covered her tracks, ”Well I wish to start there, as this subject is the least familiar to me. I am also interested in your relationship with him.”

Atira sat with a smirk on her face as Tatiana began to look more flustered. The pause was long before she spoke. ”You do realize there is much pain there?”

”Pain? No I was not aware. Do not feel any pressure. Share what you feel comfortable sharing.”

”I have loved him and do still love him, but time has changed the sort of love.” Tatiana’s faced lit up as she shared her favorite memories of Beowulf. ”He took me to my first ball, I had never dressed up before that. He took me on picnics and took me to interesting places…and I conceived our child.” Her face turned from her previous smile as she continued, ”At that time, he was in the dark order and I became terrifed that he would hurt me or our child.”

Finally, they were getting somewhere. ”I do not understand how the man I know as Beowulf could have fought for the Dark Order.”

”Mr. Cloudster is a fiercesome warrior, I think he admired it.”

She went on to tell of Beowulf’s death and as she continued Atira began to feel a small amount of pity for her. ”I remember digging at the dirt with my bare hands.” Tatiana looked to the floor and said nothing.

”How did you end up like this? Why are you still not married?” Atira knew the answer, but something about Tatiana's squirming made Atira feel at ease.

”He was always away fighting and he returned right after our son was born.” Tatiana seemed to struggle with what she was about to say, ”He ran off with Miss Cein, she was in the Dark Order too.”

It seems his patterns always lead him back… She thought. ”Did you fight for him?”

”He was my first and only love. I had bore his son, buried him and unearthed him. Obviously, whatever he felt he needed, it was not with me. But even so, when he finally went to war, he sent me back a book…”

”Did he love the Matriarch?” She cut her off.

”I can’t say, he was at least infatuated, but he did not marry her, he chose to marry me.”

”Why did he leave her?”

”I don’t know. Maybe he well, that is, Cein has always been drawn to the dark side of things, perhaps that split them. Moonglow has been his love.”

Atira stood up, realizing how much time she had spent sitting and talking. Dominick must be bored out of his mind. She thought. She said her farewells and began to head down the stairs, but remembered one thing she wanted to ask, ”Tatiana, may I see that book my father sent you?”

Tatiana nodded, ”Of course. I will bring it to you later this evening. You know Atira, I love Beowulf and always will and as long as he is happy, I am happy for him.”

With that Tatiana turned to go inside and Atira made her way down the stairs, pulling her shroud back around her face. She didn’t have to look far for Dominick as he stood directly in front of the house, staring at a mound of dead corpses.

”Are you alright?” He asked her as he opened the portal back to Umbra.

She smiled deviously and nodded.

[atira thormear]

---

Atira’s sword sliced through the air. Her mind raced with thoughts of her father. Over the passed few months she found out much more than she had ever thought she could, but for what reason?

As her journey into her father’s past progressed, something strange was happening within the walls of her home. Beowulf spent much more time in Umbra and not only that he helped Atira, as well as her siblings, by pushing their training. She had begun to hear his footsteps against the cold stone floor outside her door. She thought to herself as she lay sleeplessly in her bed he can’t sleep, but why?

In the beginning her only wish was to have Beowulf see things her way, to lead him stray from Moonglow and to bring him closer to his family. Something was going on with her father and to no fault of her own work. She could sense a coldness surrounding him that she had never before. He was short, irritable, but still trying his hardest for compassion. The changes were so minute that she often wondered if she were the only one to notice.

She couldn’t help but to think of what she had heard from Samon.


”Deep down inside of him I believe the evil waits.”



What was going on? Could he be giving way to his dark past all on his own? Was all my time wasted?

The time had come and Beowulf had called her into the sitting room. She wasn’t sure what to say or if to say anything at all.

”I am leaving Moonglow, Atira. It no longer holds what I need. I strive for more and I hope to find what I need with old friends.” Beowulf spoke.

She sat silent for a moment and thought old friends? She never could have imagined it would come to this. And all this time her naïve mind believed Beowulf would side with Umbra.

”The Dark Order?”


He nodded.



So after all this work, after countless hours of plotting, nothing more has come from this change. She had everything she wanted. Her father was going against everything she believed he should. Ironically, in this, he came no closer to the father she hope for, but a foe more fearsome than she could have imagined.