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[Kaelem]

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"Corp Por!" shouted the mage, thrusting his palm forward and throwing a bolt of energy at the elder daemon, the Balron known as Deshmaelbar, even as he ducked and tumbled away from the raking claws of the beast.

Desh laughed as the bolt dissipated against his hide. "Foolish human!" he chided. "Just stop your running and let me kill you, and I'll make it quick!"

Kaelem regained his feet and scanned the room. The corpses of his trusty nightmare and white wyrm lay broken, smashed against the walls of the ancient stone chamber. Deshmaelbar had even shattered their spirits, preventing any hope of reincarnating the loyal beasts. His bardic talents were useless against this ageless evil, even if his lute hadn't been smashed and burned, and so far, the foul thing was resisting all of his most potent spells.

Finding no other option, the mage, who had long ago joined the ethereal, whose body was constituted by the very magic of his existence, prayed to the nameless entity that governed the laws of the arcane. He was desperate. This balron had slaughtered his guild, shattering the Order of the White Steed; and had killed and broken Midnight and Purity after he came to confront the daemon in his blind rage. Stupid.

As he prayed, he felt the arcane energies that blanketed Sosaria envelop him, suffuse him. His hands glowed with all of the magical elements at his disposal, his eyes burned with a white fire. "Deshmaelbar," he called, his voice resonating with raw power, "You have destroyed all that I stood for, all that I cared about. I will see your end, even if it means my life!" He charged, the magical energies making him supernaturally fast. He leapt at the balron, clasping his hands around it's head, and releasing all of the energy stored within him.

The resultant explosion decimated the ancient dungeon, obliterating both the human's and the daemon's bodies.

When Kaelem's mind coalesced again, he was simply floating, a thought in a pure white void. He felt, more than saw, the will, the hatred, the burning evil of Deshmaelbar, floating in the same plane.

This fight is not yours, the daemon's sentience said. I shall live again, and when I do, your essence will still be wandering the void!

Kaelem felt himself sucked from the pure white plane, and for the following sixty years, he wandered the planes, without a body, without notice by anyone, save as a fleeting thought to only the most attuned with the arcane. He observed all that he could, absorbed the magics and the knowledge of the worlds beyond Sosaria, making the old mage wiser than he already was.

Though, all the wisdom didn't save him from the rage when he came and saw the only family he'd had in ages torn and bloody on the floor of the Order's hall. He'd let himself feel emotion, after ages of loss, pain, and denial, he'd still let himself feel.

Finally, after what felt to him like an eternity, he felt his essence being pulled. For so long, he had merely drifted, traveling the planes at a whim, with the realm of Sosaria inaccessable to him. Yet, here he was, racing towards his home. His body, that of a slightly taller-than-average human male of average weight for his height, his flesh pale by nature, but slightly tanned, formed itself around his spirit. The form he had worn when he was truely alive, nearly four centuries before, which he had chosen to retain upon his rebirth one-hundred and thirty-five years ago now.

He had felt Deshmaelbar's presence as a nagging thought in the back of his consciousness for all these years, but now there was nothing. He surmised, as his body floated through the void, racing towards the light that was life, that the balron must have been annihilated. He wondered what being, or group of beings, was so powerful as to slay the one responsible for killing an order of paladins, mages, and knights.

As his feet touched the firm cobblestones, he shrugged. He was overcome with joy. He was once again living, he could feel physical sensations, could smell, could taste the salt air of the nearby ocean. Could feel the warm breeze. Yet the city was not familiar to him. He waved at a passing merchant. "Hail, goodsir!" he called. "Where is this?"

"Are ye daft?" the man replied, stopping his cart. "'Tis New Haven that yer standing in!"

"'New' Haven? Sir, the haven I remember was on an island just south of Magincia's own."

"Aye, 'tis still the same isle, but ye must be referring to Ol' Haven, the ruins just to yon east."

"And what of the mage Uzeraan? He was at one point Haven's Guardian. Surely he still survives."

The merchant looked somber. "Aye, I knew Uzeraan when I was but a boy, and he still survives, in a way." Kaelem looked at the man, a puzzled expression on his face. "He resides in the old mage tower, though now he is known as the Dark Knight. During the destruction of Ol' Haven, his form became one with that of the daemon, the servant of Semidar, that he kept prisoner."

Kaelem's shoulder's slumped, and he sighed. "Thank you, goodman," he said. "How may I get to Trinsic. Do the moongates still exist?"

"Aye, go out yon South gate, 'tis not far." With that, the merchant tipped his cap and pulled his cart away.

Kaelem followed the merchant's directions, finding the moongate easily. He traveled to Trinsic, and found the surrounding wilderness fairly unchanged, though the wildlife seemed to have blossomed. The tortured existance of his friend Uzeraan bothered him deeply, and he vowed to find a way to free him, at some point. He hiked towards the walled city, becoming aware that his form was much weaker than it had been, surely an effect of the time spent in the void. He still felt the connection to the magic, the animals, and the music, but it was distant, faded.

He stopped at the coast along southern Trinsic, just outside of the Southern gate. He stripped his robes and dove into the water, holding his breath and searching for a certain rock. Hopefully his cautious planning had not been wasted. After several attempts at diving and searching, each one making his lungs burn, he finally found it. He pulled the large rock, which was as light as a feather, and drug it up to the surface with him, dragging it onto the beach.

He opened the rock, which was hollowed and magically sealed, and found a set of magical leather armor, several runebooks, and a spellbook stored inside. His caché had survived. That was fortunate, at least. He closed the rock and shoved it back into the water, making a mental note to restock it at some point. He donned his armor, and used his runebook to recall to Trinsic bank, which had always been fairly busy. Perhaps he could find some answers there.

As he materialized at the bank, he found the place quiet. The whole town seemed to be the same way, which was awkward for the warrior city, which had once held the proud Trinsic Honor guard. He no longer saw their standards anywhere. He sighed again, and opened his runebook, selecting the page for Britain. Surely the capitol city, which was always bustling with life, would still be as it was.

As he stepped back into the physical plane, his short jaunt through the astral realm delivering him at the bank in West Britain, he was immediately assailed by the change. The top of the bank now sported a garden, he could see a moongate off to the West, and he no longer heard the noises of the bustling city that had once filled his ears. He found a few people, mostly practicing some kind of odd magic, standing atop a strangle looking arcane symbol. Things were not as he remembered. He climbed down the stairs, another new addition, to the street below, at sat on the bottom step, unsure about what to do next.

A woman approached him, she wore teal and black, and exuded a sense of peace. She handed him a book, the cover of which identified it as a flyer for an organization known as the Sovereign Order. He smilled and accepted the book, and leafed through it as she walked away. The pamphlet intrigued him, and he decided to seek out the lady, or another, to find out more about it. The information within the flyer was non-specific as to where to find these members, but he decided that the challenge could be worth it. Judging from the information, he figured that the best place to start would be Luna.

He travelled to the City of Paladins, and quickly found a regal-looking lady in the teal and black he had seen the other lady in. She was recruiting for her Order.

"Hail," he said. "I received this flyer, and am looking for more information."

She smiled and talked to him for a bit, sending a wisp with a message. She introduced herself as Branwen, Lady of the Sovereign Order. A few moments later, a seasoned half-elf approached, and she introduced him as Deacon, Lord of the Sovereign Order. He greeted the Lord, who returned the greeting and bade they retire to a place a bit more secluded. They traveled through a gate to a Manor a little ways south of Luna, where Kaelem, having heard what he needed to know, and finding his own moral code to align with the Order's, decided to accept and join the Sovereign Order.

Today, Kaelem is a Whisperer of the Sovereign Order, and is striving to retrain himself in the ways of the bard, the ranger, and the mage. He believes himself to have found a group of people who he may call family, some day. He can be found wearing blue leather, and the teal and black colors of the Sovereign Order, and he is always willing to help who he can, and to not pass judgement without due reason.