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[Jolicia]

---

Shelley snapped her fingers in front of Jolicia's face, "Where've you looked for him?"

Jolicia blinked a few times, coming out of her day dream. Looked for him... why didn't I look more? I looked at the Abbey but I stopped there. "I looked at the Abbey."

**********************************************

Ocllo was a lost cause in Jolicia's book and she was right. She didn't think there was any way Judas would return there after everything that happened with Cole, as well as the Dark Order presence, but Shelley was persistent. It did however make her think of the old house in Trinsic. Followed closely by the others, she walked hurriedly up to the house as memories of the last time they were there flooded her mind. As she walked into the dining area, there was a cloaked individual sitting at the table, oddly enough in the same chair that Judas always sat in.

This person seated before them insisted the group leave them alone. Nythrax was already unconvinced, and Jolicia was on the verge of leaving until a higher pitched voice pleaded, "Please... Jolicia..." A phrase not unfamiliar from an individual that seemed to know her. She looked over the individual and began to notice that although the robe was bulky, they were shorter and not of Judas' build. As her eyes continued, they stopped on the figure's a shiny silver ankh necklace; the exact one that Judas always wore.

She reached back and pulled down her hood, only to reveal a woman around her own age with long black hair. The woman avoided looking her directly in the eyes, which made her more impatient. It didn't help that Jolicia could hear the whispered mutterings and bickering behind her, which just pushed her past her breaking point. She slammed her fist down on the corner of the very same table corner that she had easily broken only a few months before. "I said look me in the eyes!" The woman jumped and slowly brought her gaze to meet Jolicia's.

Jolicia looked into the woman's eyes, but they were not what she expected (or maybe what she feared). They were the eyes of Judas, but desperate and frightened. Quickly, she covered her mouth as the truth struck her. The more he/she spoke, the more the others in the room began to express their amusement, which sent Judas into even more of a spiral. It was hard enough for Jolicia to process what was in front of her without the insensitivity of the others. This was the same "man" that had put his life on the line for them. How dare they, was the only thought that entered her mind.


************************************************

Jolicia tried to reason with the highly emotional, now-female Judas to learn why he had fled instead of coming to her. She tried to explain how much it worry it caused, and how she even had to defend him against the others who assumed he had just left without reason. Unfortunately, his responses were more like a teenage girl's than the man she was used to. How was she supposed to cope with his feelings when she could not handle her own?

Judas sobbed, “I could not… face you…”

Jolicia tried to reach for his/her hand, but was left with nothing, “Why?”

“Because I knew how you would react. I knew you would get angry and talk about killing Garrott… and … break.” There was that word that had been a frequent topic of conversation as of late. Jolicia lowered her head and sighed as Judas continued, “And forget … everything … we had talked about.”

“You really that concerned about me… breaking?” Jolicia left her head lowered as she spoke softly.

Judas looked to her and nodded, “It frightens me when you get so … angry. I just worry what you might do.”

The pain grew in Jolicia’s heart as his/her words rang in Jolicia's head. What you might do. She suddenly reached for her pack and pulled out a small cloth that contained the vial filled with a red, thick liquid. Unable to make eye contact, she held it out to Judas, “Take it. Get rid of it. Before I change my mind…”

[Renthar]

---

It was largely a one-sided battle, and within moments the demon worshiper lay dead.

"You've ruined a lot of good work," Renthar scolded the group of adventurers that had so rudely intruded upon his private meeting atop Terort Skitas in Ilshenar. Then he turned and kicked the corpse of the fallen cultist who only moments before he was conversing with. "I was this close to having an in ..."

"Well maybe you should have stopped him if he was so valuable," Jolicia retorted in her usual tone, an indication that her newly restored mortality had done little to warm her personality.

"I don't care that he's dead," the tall, strange-eyed mage laughed in response. "It's not like I'm fond of the man. What sort of idiot worships demons?"

"Then maybe you can answer some questions for us?" The man who soon introduced himself as Lucas asked.

In addition to these two, Renthar spotted yet another familiar face: the witch Aingeal, she of the harsh criticisms and bare feet. The rest of their little band included a garbled-tongued Menja, an elven Faeryl, a corpse collecting Nythrax, and a rather confused individual who seemed quite enthusiastic about showing off his penis. Which he called, "Petey." Athough he would never admit it, the mage was deeply disappointed that there was not a Rosar among them. With Paine's recent death, he was feeling woefully lacking of an arch-nemesis.

An exchange of information followed. Renthar told them of his experiences tracking the power stolen from the restoration ritual he cast for the Countess of Ashencrosse, as well as the mysterious portals that seemed to appear and disappear throughout Sosaria. In response, he learned that demons pursued the gypsy Alisiea and her unborn child, the one spawned from Paine's seed. Some ancient prophecy of the long-lost Baratarians was also involved. The tall mage had fond recollections of Barataria and the taste of pork, and this news was enough to make him curious for an audience with the pregnant girl.

"Shall we, heroes?!" Renthar asked after their business was concluded. Yet another alliance of necessity, such as the one he had formed with the Countess Aurelia Bretane of Ashencrosse. Hopefully, this new one would not end with the strange-eyed mage bereft of home and Tokunese concubine ...

[Anna Evanovich]

---

Deep beneath the Paladin Training Hall in Trinsic and carved out of the granite bedrock, lays a secret grotto. This grotto is reached by descending a narrow circular stairway, the entrance of which is hidden within the stone panels of the lower armory. The grotto’s high vaulted ceiling and smooth clean walls are embellished with intricate mosaic murals depicting acts of Virtue carried out by Knights of the Holy Order of Paladins. Near the North wall of the grotto, which could hold as many as one hundred souls, sits a raised dais upon which stands a great Ankh made from a single block of solid gold. The Patriarch of the Order stands upon this dais looking out over the handful of Knights gathered before him. What once numbered dozens, the Order has been reduced to five or six true and faithful souls who still follow the Virtues. Survivors of the Atalan invasion, these brave Knights are gathered here to bear witness to the Knighting of a new member to their ranks.

A young woman, not more than twenty years of age, kneels before the Ankh. Her blonde hair is cut short in keeping with the traditions of the Order. Her plate armor is polished to a high gleam and sparkles under the magical lights that float near the ceiling. Incense of Frankincense and Myrrh smolders in a small brazier at the foot of the Ankh. The young woman has just taken the Vows of Poverty, Chastity and Humility and is now prepared to take the Oath of the Paladins. Her voice rings clear and she holds her head high as she speaks the words:

“I, Tatiana Vesuli Evanovich, vow upon my life, word, and sword, to uphold the laws of my faith and the code of the paladin. I will defend those who are in need as well as those who have my protection; I will conduct myself with compassion, honor, valor, and truth at all times. I seek neither gain nor glory for myself, for it is my faith that will reward me when the battle is done. These duties I take up willingly and without complaint.”

The Patriarch of the Order nods and, looking out over those gathered before him, repeats the Code of the Paladin:

“Thou art honor bound to keep thy word when given.
Thou art honor bound to protect and defend the weak and innocent.
Thou art honor bound to help those in need.
Thou must conduct thyself in a chivalrous manor.
Thou must conduct thyself with honor.
Thou must show courage in the face of adversity.
Thou art duty bound to thy faith, thy people, and thyself, in that order.
Thou art duty bound to uphold the oath of the paladin.
Thou art duty bound to fight for truth, justice, and honor, for these show the way of the light.
Thou art bound by your faith to obey its laws, defend what is holy, and avenge those you protect.”

The Patriarch then taps the young woman once on each shoulder with the flat of his gleaming sword and says;

“Rise and be recognized Tatiana Vesuli Evanovich, Lady Knight of the Holy Order of Paladins. May your path to the Virtues be clear and may your Quest be honorable.”
_________________

[Alisiea]

---

The sky was on fire. A grey-black cauldron of boiling, seething clouds backlit by orange and red flame that outlined the edges of the clouds like molten lava. The world was on fire. Entire forests of raging flame swept across the earth, pushed by winds of its own creation. Tree limbs, grasses and living creatures sucked into a tempest of infernal heat that spread the inferno from town to town and city to city like a hell-spawned plaque. Nothing escaped. Great beasts of the mountains fled before the scorching winds. Winged creatures of the air fell in smoking ruin before the onslaught of flame. The races of world cried out in agony; then were swept away like ashes.

From atop the highest peak a young Celestia looked down upon a burning world. Her glowing eyes reflecting the destruction that raged at her feet. Arms outstretched she raised her burning eyes to the ruined sky and in a voice that could be heard above the roaring death wail of a dying world, shouted.

"Ego sum lux. In liberare. Perditor mundos. Ego veni in hunc mundum imaginem ad reformandam Qui regit. Is, qui est aeterna.”


**********

Alisiea opened her eyes. The room was dark. Nythrax had not yet returned from his nightly hunt. Propping herself up with pillows she leaned back against the headboard and cradled her swollen belly in her hands. Celestia was quite, asleep in her silent, protective web. Prophecy. Betrayals. Lies. Abandonment. Suffering. How much longer could she watch? Her friends faced riddles, danger and foretelling in a world that no longer seemed to care. What did it matter, the sufferings of one small child in a world blind to the coming terror? Where were the answers? In which direction did salvation lie? What good would learning to read and write be in a world reduced to ash and bone? Sliding her legs over the side of the bed she rose, walked to the bath and immersed herself in the warm, soothing waters. She lay back and let the water embrace her. Her breasts and belly floated above the surface like islands in a sea of dark hope. Lifting her hand, she let droplets of water drip over the island that was her child. Celestia stirred to the soft drumming of the drip … drip … drip against the dome of her world.

“Your dreams will not be my dreams.” Alisiea whispered. “Your life will rise above mine and give strength to those who have lost all hope. Nothing will harm you so long as I draw breath. Nothing will stop you from becoming what you were meant to be. Nothing will harm you. Nothing.”


**********

In the distant mountains. In the dark of night. In the early hours of the new day. A wolf. An Alpha of his clan raised his muzzle to the starlit sky and howled. Far to the north another of his clan heard the call and howled in answer. The echo of their voices rolled down the hillsides and into the steaming forests of Fire Island. Soon, other voices from the east and west joined theirs until the forests were awash with the howling of wolves. The sound rushed forward until it crashed against the dark walls of a lowland house. Alisiea, rising from the bath and returning to her bed, heard the call and, slipping beneath the covers, smiled and closed her eyes.

“Nothing will harm us here,” she whispered. "Nothing.”

[Judas D'arc]

---

If it were up to her, the woman formerly known as Judas D'arc would not have been sitting there in the Salty Dog Tavern. She could be learning to wield her bow left-handed, as her instructor Willow had assigned her. She might be trying her new suit of armor for the first time, the tight black battle-skirt which offered the smallest glimpse of her to any potential admirer. Or perhaps she would be seducing Jolicia in an effort to satisfy the very unfamiliar urges that existed between this male-turned-female's thighs. But rather than any of these far more enticing activities, poor Claudia (as the gender-bending bard now called herself) was forced to listen to the bleak words of Balric of Barataria.

After the exchange of banter and a brief sip of water, Balric seated himself and addressed those assembled, which included the she-bard, Aingeal, Alisiea, Faeryl, Jolicia, Lucas, Natalya, and Nythrax. He was preparing to recite his translation of the ancient prophecy they had retrieved from the bowels of the Citadel in Tokuno. One that hopefully provided insight into their present struggles.

"Our battle ended, victory;
The darkness it has lost;
Yet sacrifice surrounds us;
And we have borne the cost."

"Feh," Nythrax interrupted, tossing aside the written version of the text he had already finished. "I was only looking for one word, and it was not to my liking."

"Spoken in my moment last;
This final warning, learn;
The beast which met defeat today;
Is destined to return.

Of Rondorin, Barataria;
The two that joined as one;
I weep not for the world that is;
But for the world to come.

From unity to rivalry;
Each ruled by feudal lord;
The wizard wields gem of black;
A stranger with his sword.

Days to weeks, months to years;
Then signs begin to tell;
Once more it stirs in hunger;
From where demons dwell.

In shadows stalk the hunters;
A plague of winged beasts;
The prey of stolen souls;
Upon which their master feasts."

"Why does it need to be written like this anyway?" Natalya suddenly asked. "Why can't people just write things down in a clear way."

"These are the last words of our prophet," the Baratarian explained. "She lay dying and this is what she spoke."

"Is that all?" the Gypsy Girl inquired, her inability to read forcing a reliance upon others for information.

"The walls begin to crumble;
Weakened at their base;
Doors with neither lock nor key;
That move from place to place."

"Portals," commented Lucas.

"Men that know not virtue;
Embraced by Seventh Death;
Pledged in service willingly;
Until their final breath.

Slashers, Fathers, Champions;
The grasp of harrowing hand;
A king upon a wicked throne;
Legions at his command.

Not a man will fell this evil;
No army can match its might;
There is no secret blade or spell;
Nor questing mage or knight.

Instead salvation born;
From parents of tragic ends;
A girl named for the heavens;
And defended by her friends."

"Tragic ends! Piss on your prophecy," Nythrax shouted.

Balric appeared almost offended. "Please don't disrepect the ways of my people. Our traditions have existed for many centuries and should be respected."

"Let him finish," Alisiea urged. "Please ... read more."

"Without father or a mother;
Another will have to guide her;
To teach her of our ways;
And all the magicks inside her."

As these words were spoken, the Gypsy Girl's upset became visible.

"The first of three tasks;
She will descend into the deep;
To conquer the Seventh Death;
And the ruler that they keep.

Her next quest to follow;
The demon supper it must cease;
Free the hunter from her shackles;
And offer her release.

They will battle harrowing hands;
And face temptation's test;
The doors will be shattered;
In this third and final quest."

The Baratarian looked to Alisiea and tried to console her. "Some of it's open to interpretation. Some of it isn't."

"What does that mean?" She questioned.

"Once womanhood achieved;
Yet still untouched by man;
Her spirit cleansed before;
She makes the final stand.

The path that she must walk;
Of three that forms the eight;
Forged, a weapon never held;
She becomes the hand of fate.

Slay Father, Slasher, Champion;
The servants and all the rest;
Then with demon's name in hand;
She must journey to its nest.

Of this one last conflict;
My vision, imprecise;
But to achieve this victory;
Her life must sacrifice.

Yet I see another version;
One wicked and obscene;
here child taken young;
Raised as the demon's queen.

Savior not, destroyer;
Her power turns the tide;
She pleasures in her role;
As damnation's bride.

Now I speak these words;
No more wisdom left to give;
In this moment knowing not;
If the demon falls or ..."

"Lives," Lucas completed the unfinished verse.

The discussion of interpretation that followed was of little interest to Claudia. Although she was no longer particularly fond of Alisiea (in fact, she could no longer recall why she ever had been), she did feel a touch of sympathy for the gypsy. She had just learned that her unborn daughter might mate with a demon. Even the best outcome still resulted in the apparent deaths of both the mother and daughter. It was enough to prevent the she-bard from making any further jokes about the Gypsy Girl on all fours or marking her territory or howling at the moon. At least for the rest of the night.

After Nythrax left to escort Alisiea home, the subject changed to the plans that had also been taken from the Citadel. They were for something called a "Drachen Bow," a weapon wielded by the clan of demon hunters that had joined Balric's order and aided them in the demon's prior defeat centuries ago. And coincidentally (or maybe not with the way fate enjoyed teasing them), Lucas was revealed to be the present-day descendant of this ancient family. Although this discovery made her slightly curious, mostly Claudia just longed for sleep. Her desire for both archery practice and bedding Jolicia had waned for the evening. Still, none of it had been able to quell her enthusiasm for wearing her new armor, especially that tight black battle-skirt ...

... because she knew without uncertainty that she would wear it well!

[Renthar]

---

It was after midnight, and Renthar sat naked and cross-legged on the floor of his room at the Wayfarer's Inn of Britain. He had always maintained a preference for a world without clothing -- for himself, because they were cumbersome and restrictive; for others, because they tasted funny and were too easily caught in his teeth. After departing Terort Skitas in the company of Jo Jo and her friends (or "The Club of Heroes" as he liked to call them), the strange-eyed sorcerer had been exposed to a delightful series of secrets and opportunities ...

There was the gypsy girl, pregnant with dead Paine's seed and due to deliver a child of prophecy. One that was fated to either destroy or empower the demon that had stolen the magicks from Renthar's restoration ritual. The tall mage already knew which of the outcomes that he preferred, but was not entirely certain what his new-found allies wanted.

Then there was Khal Ankur, servant of the demon and master of the Keepers of Seventh Death of Khaldun. The Club of Heroes had encountered him within the depths of Hythloth, and by all accounts, the battle went poorly. The only good part was that Khal Ankur now occupied the corpse of the late Sir Chanticleer of Ashencrosse, a fool of a man that Renthar deeply disliked.

Then there was the elf and her haunted dagger, filled with the hateful whisperings of a shattered legacy that he understood only far too well. He was curious whether she would agree to his rather unconventional solution. Would she offer the protests as predicted, or instead embrace the excuse to engage in forbidden acts that most women secretly dreamed of?

Then there was Jo Jo and her drunken bard of a lover, now magically transformed into a woman. Renthar had already offered a couple of suggestions to undo the spell, but his imagination had also entertained a far more amusing cure. If Judas suddenly ended up with the best of both worlds between his legs, perhaps Jolicia would learn a well-deserved lesson in manners.

Then there were the other guests at the Wayfarer's Inn. Most were largely uninteresting, but two of them had caught his strange-eyes. The first was the man known as Balric of Barataria, the only surviving member of the ancient order dedicated to eradicating the demon threat. The tall mage was almost tempted to discover if Baratarians still tasted like pork. The second was a female warrior that seemed preoccupied with important business that Renthar had so far been unable to discern.

The sorcerer briefly stretched his arms before reaching for the writing supplies that lay nearby. Using the hard wood of the floor as a writing surface, he began a quick missive. The latest news to his hidden ally, the one whose identity he had not yet disclosed to the Club of Heroes. No reason to concern them until it was too late to make a difference. And the recipient of his letter would certainly appreciate the delightful series of secrets and opportunities that had been exposed ...

[Renthar]

---

Loud and chaotic, like battle. When he first heard the noise, Renthar was in the midst of pleasuring himself in the comfort of his own room at the Wayfarer's Inn. Faced with an inconvenient moral dilemma, the strange-eyed sorcerer chose to delay his response until attending to his needs. Then, nearly half an hour later, he finally left the inn and began to investigate.

As he approached Britain's Chamber of Virtue, Renthar heard a familiar voice. "So who are you exactly?"

"I'm Renthar, your lord and savior," was his candid response.

But the female elf was actually speaking to another woman, who the mage immediately recognized as a fellow guest at the Wayfarer's Inn. The female warrior with the mysterious business who previously had caught his attention. And her name?

"I am Erollisi," she told Faeryl after clarification was made.

"Did I miss something?" Renthar asked.

After introductions were finished, Faeryl began the explanation of what exactly had happened. "Khal Ankur was here not long ago."

"Khal Ankkur? The Khal Ankur?" For once, the tall sorcerer displayed his surprised.

Apparently the Keeper of the Seventh Death had indeed paid a visit to Britain in an attempt to capture the Alisiea and her unborn child. When the gypsy escaped, Khal Ankur instead killed another.

Inside the Chamber of Virtue, Renthar knelt by the body of Balric of Barataria, whose throat had been slit clean across. He lifted the corpse's hand and briefly checked for a pulse. Satisfied the man was dead, the strange-eyed mage flicked his tongue against the limp hand. "After all these years, they still taste like pork," he noted to his two female companions.

"He should be buried properly," Erollisi suggested.

"Think of the starving children," he argued.

"You ... are an odd man."

"You're not the first to think so," he said as he seated himself on the nearby steps.

"Someone's going to have to tell the others about this," Faeryl stated.

"You know they'll blame me," Renthar asserted. "Jo Jo is always blaming me. And Nythrax hates me. And Judas will just start crying like a woman. Because, you know ..."

"What?" Erollisi questioned in confusion.

"I'm a hero, good Erollisi!" Renthar suddenly shouted. "Through and through!"

"I might not believe that completely, but I don't see how you can be to blame for this."

"Except I have a tragic childhood and dark stain on my past." He looked up at the ceiling as his rant continued. "Why can't I earned forgiveness?!" Then he dramatically threw his arms up in the air. "Why can't I be redeeeeeeeeeeeemed?!"

Shortly after this unnecessary outburst, the three went their separate ways, and Renthar volunteered to dispose of the Baratarian's remains. He eventually settled upon the cemetery in Felucca Nujel'm, near where he had buried Paine Drakul some. That way, if Alisiea was ever feeling nostalgic for the dead, it would be more convenient for her to do her grieving in one place ...

[Jolicia]

---

Jolicia wasn't seated long before a man entered the Modest Damsel, but he was not who she had been expecting to see. Vincent, as she later found out, was well dressed, handsome, and similar in looks to Judas, except for the blonde hair. Suspicious from the beginning, she was polite enough to entertain his conversation. Jolicia even found him to be quite charming, but it was all tainted by the expectation that at any moment his eyes would flash and she'd be seated across from Garrott. But that never came to pass, and eventually a familiar looking bald headed woman wearing a red robe entered the tavern.

Together, they went to one of the rooms upstairs, and Jolicia closed the door behind them. The woman looked Jolicia over before Garrott began to speak through her. "You've come to a decision then?" Jolicia nodded in response. Looking at her expectantly, "Am I going to like it?"

Jolicia tried her very best to suppress the smile, "Not likely."

Garrott sighed in disappointment, "I was trying to do you a favor. Khal Ankur's going to kill you all. You know that, right?"

The ever defiant Jolicia just stared at him, "He can try."

The two carried on for several moments before Jolicia struck what she perceived to be a nerve, as Garrott responded, "Don't pretend to know the game I'm playing."

The irritation in Garrott's voice was enjoyable for Jolicia to hear, "Maybe we will all die and you'll be out a few toys."

Garrott nodded, "That would be disappointing. I've actually helped you too. You just don't see it yet."

"Care to share?" Jolicia asked inquisitively.

He shook his head, "I care to talk bargains."

***********************************

In what was becoming his usual pattern, it was difficult for Garrott to get to the actual bargain. It turned out that he had specifically chosen the handsome Vincent for Jolicia. He was very curious about Jolicia's opinion as he started to detail out Vincent's life and upbringing. Making sure to tell her what a good man he was and a fine husband he'd make one day, along with his innocence in all of this. While that made Jolicia feel a little better, it also made her wonder what Garrott was up to this time. That became apparent quickly though; more game playing, questions to answers, probing, and the pushing of boundaries. Jolicia was able to hold her composure until a certain name entered the conversation. "Then how do you know who Balam is?"

Garrott became highly amused as he laughed, cracking up as he shook his head, "You don't know?"

Jolicia tilted her head, looking a bit confused, "Know what?"

"Oh, this is too rich." Garrott finally stopped laughing, turning to a very serious expression, "Jolicia. Where do you think it is ... That vampires with the names of demons carved into them end up? Especially if they take their own lives?" The laughter picked back up as Jolicia narrowed her eyes at him. Garrott had won that battle but he couldn't be right could he? Jolicia had seen and felt Balam's presence during Renthar's restoration ritual. He had come to her and looked so at peace. Was that the lie or was this?

*************************************

Eventually, Jolicia had enough, "Tell me the bargain or I'll leave."

Garrott sighed dramatically, "You're willing to turn your back on Judas so quickly? Just for a bit of pride? Tsk tsk."

"I'm not turning my back on him." Jolicia's answer sharp as a knife.

"Then answer my questions."

"I've had enough of your games."

Garrott watched her demeanor and movements as he tried a different approach, "I'm just curious if you've ever Murdered. Seduced. Lied. Betrayed. If those are beyond your limits. It's quite relevant to my bargain." Jolicia shook her head, exhausted by all of this. He continued, paying close attention to how she would react to his next bit of information, "No answers? What if I told you this... Your Judas has been cursed. I'm sure your friends all find it a laughing matter, but ... It's quite possible, and even likely, that this curse will kill him. Think they'd still be laughing?"

Jolicia did her best to keep the emotions at bay, to hide her feelings. This time, it was him upsetting her. "You don't think I haven't already thought of that?"

Garrott continued to push, "Don't get me wrong, he's earned his punishment but ..."

She quickly interrupted, "No, he hasn't."

This set Garrott off, as he trembled in anger and began to rant. Jolicia better understood what Judas had meant when he told her that eventually, Garrott would screw up. That he would show some sign of weakness. Garrott's dislike for Judas and Jolicia's defense of him could be used to their advantage. So for now, she continued with the little game. What she hadn't expected though was his response to her answers, "Maybe you're a better person than you think you are."

**************************

Finally they reached the point as Garrott explained the rules; only good for tonight and no consulting Judas or the others before answering. This was where the game started, as Garrott started to talk about Vincent again. Speaking of his innocence, his habits, and building him up as much as he could.

A smile crept across his face, "I want you to seduce him and bring him up to one of these rooms. Get him on the bed ... And then either sleep with him ... Or murder him." He mused as Jolicia shook her head, "Either screwed, or screwed. If you do this, I'll tell you exactly how to free Judas from his curse. I'll tell you how it works and how to end it. How -you- can end it. What'll happen if you don't and maybe even how much time he has. No trick. No consultations with Judas or his friends. This is your offer right now."

Garrott looked at her with anticipation, assuming he had won the fight. Jolicia didn't hesitate at all with her decision though, which was uncommon when dealing with a moral dilemma. Instead she instantly thought of Judas, of their many talks as of late. She thought of what it was that he would want her to do, as well as what she would want Judas to do in the same position. Garrott's game was becoming clearer. It wasn't about punishing Judas by making him a woman. Jolicia now believed his true goal was to punish Judas by breaking them and what they had together. As she looked to Garrott with that creepy smile still spread across his face, the word slipped effortlessly from her lips, "No."

His reaction was more dramatic than she had expected. He started to scream hysterically, stomping his foot and berating her with questions. Demanding to know why she wouldn't do this. Garrott shrieked even more when her answer remained unchanged, trying to guilt her for thinking she was above all of this. Jolicia calmly shook her head though, confident for once in what she was doing, "I think the man I love would be highly disappointed in me and I will not betray him." Nerve hit again. Garrott snapped and grabbed one of the dresser drawers, throwing it to the floor. Then punching the wall as hard as his current female form would allow, as the sound of bones breaking emitted in the small room.

He fell to his knees in pain, still whining and ranting about Judas. The monster he thought Judas was. Jolicia watched quietly for a moment before she cast the healing spell without even thinking. Garrott shrieked at her, "Why did you do that?!"

She shrugged a bit, not really sure of the answer herself, "Because the body is bleeding."

Garrott stood slowly. Watching Jolicia with suspicion as he tested his hand and sneered, "He's probably going to die... You're making a big mistake. I've already offered you two kindnesses." Now it was Jolicia's turns to push buttons again but Garrott quickly slipped back into his role as game master, "I hope that love keeps you warm when he's dead."

[Judas D'arc]

---

As Claudia drifted off to sleep, a small smile played across her face. In many ways, she knew her mood was a sign of her foolishness...

Much had gone wrong in recent days. Balric of Barataria, their ally and guidance in all matters demon, had been murdered by Khal Ankur. The bard had also refrained from meeting alone with Avella Isilian, and kept quiet her opinion of Nythrax doing so. She believed this a mistake, given his vocal opposition to the prophecy and the vampire's potential importance to it, but she had acquiesced in order to keep Jolicia sane. Finally, the magic that had transformed her from Judas to Claudia was not simply a spell, but a curse that would eventually kill her. Yet not everything that had occurred was quite as disappointing. Earlier that night, the bard and her friends had gathered the ingredients necessary to craft the Drachen Bow, the weapon wielded by Lucas' demon-hunting ancestors. Jolicia had also refused Garrott's bargain to remove the curse in exchange for the murder or seduction of an innocent man, a decision Claudia was glad for despite the obvious consequences. And most significantly, the relationship between the two was much improved. A couple of weeks ago, Jolicia could barely stand to look at the transformed bard, and now they lay together as lovers.

It was that last development that caused her smile. By assuming the role of her old self, by behaving as the man she was, and by pretending to care about things she no longer did, she had been able to get what she truly wanted. Garrott's curse had been more than physical, it had changed her thoughts and emotions as well. Except her feelings for Jolicia. Those had remained, even heightened.

A pity their new-found happiness was not likely to last ...

********

she slips across shadows in that room in that house in that city in that time that place so quiet quiet without a sound all asleep except the man awake indeed that man yes that man cloaked in arrogance demands what owed a threat an argument a blade in her hand the contempt of his scowl a fight a struggle her movements quick his offense stronger the dagger torn from grasp large hands reach nearer closer don't-you-know-who-I-am i-no-longer-care his eyes rage no reason punishing hands press hard against bruised flesh squeezing twisting breath fades away no defense no escape powerless

her identity no longer matters

her identity no longer matters

her identity no longer matters

********

Claudia sat up quickly, gasping for air. As her mind reoriented itself to the surroundings of their bedroom, she stifled her breathing so as not to awaken Jolicia. For a moment, she wondered if the Lady in White, the demon that had plagued the dreams of both Alisiea and Aingeal had finally decided to target her as well. But that was only wishful thinking; she knew exactly what this was.

It was memory.

What already happened. What would come to pass.

This was her death.

[Erollisi Razil]

---

Julian's instructions had been clear: Move the boy Bottoms from Serpent's Hold to keep him safe from Khal Ankur. Do not go alone, and ask her acquaintance Judas for help. And if it came to it, bring Chanticleer's body back to Vesper for a proper burial. Erollisi went over these words in her head as she sat patiently in the Salty Dog tavern awaiting her turn to ask the group of adventurers for help.

Quietly drinking her ale, Erollisi watched them interact as they listen in disbelief to the gypsy girl's decisions regarding the future of her unborn child. Both sides of the argument ranted at each other. Alisiea was acting like a selfish child, without a care for what the others had done for her and not grasping the magnitude of the demon threat, while the response of the others varied from reasonable to insensitive. Erollisi absorbed everything they were saying, and she was dumbfounded by their attitudes and began to doubt their capabilities. It was quite some time before they calmed down, but even after that, Erollisi was not quite convinced.

Finally, their focus turned to the appropriate subject, the capture of Khal Ankur. Judas chimed in, "And Erollisi over there, who has been patiently waiting, might have a clue on that." S/he smiled weakly at Erollisi, "I apologize for the... bickering."

Erollisi looked the group over as she took another drink, "You realize I might be better off just ignoring what I was told and going alone... right?"

Judas grinned, "I do not think you should face him alone... we do not want to add you to the list of casualties in this. Please tell them what you told me." Erollisi couldn't argue with that sentiment and instead started to explain her task.

**************************************

Those that arrived in Serpent's Hold with Erollisi were Faeryl, the elf that had made a good impression this evening, the oddly pale man Nythrax that was strangely unsettling; Lucas Drachen who seemed to be uncouth but possessed a special demon slaying bow, and the woman named Aingeal that she knew little about. There was no conversation along the road to the main part of town. Erollisi was just about to point out the towers she knew Bottoms frequented when Khal Ankur, still looking just like Chanticleer, appeared with a female demon at his side. She instantly pointed at him. "You!"

The female demon emitted a deafening screech as Khal Ankur laughed. "The Bottoms will die! You will follow! This one will slay you all!"

This time, Erollisi wasn't inclined to waste words and immediately opened fire. Arrows flews and metal clanged as the battle raged on. The chase led the entire party through the streets of Serpent's Hold. The female demon fell first, but Khal proved to be a much more formidable enemy. Eventually, the group's persistence triumphed, they proved to be the stronger and defeated Khal Ankur.

*******************************************

Joined by Judas and Alisiea,, they followed Nythrax to his home. After stepping through a series of teleporters, Erollisi looked around to get her bearings but was disgusted to realize this was not just any room ... but a dungeon. Her eyes lingered on the rack in the middle of the room, weapons and torture devices on the tables, rope, and some hideous looking contraption off in the corner. Disturbed by her surroundings, she did not hear much of the conversation as her eyes landed on Judas, wondering if s/he was something different than she had previously thought. Perhaps Julian was right to tell her not to trust this group. When Nythrax placed Khal Ankur on the rack, she knew that her gut instinct about him was correct. That's when the word "torture" entered into the conversation. Erollisi could not, would not condone that. The spirit inside might be a demon's but the body was Chanticleer's. Her friend, Julian's only family, and he deserved better. Thankfully Judas agreed and put a stop to it.

Erollisi watched with a mix of emotions as their prisoner lay there restrained from moving. She witnessed Alisiea and Lucas try to work together to use the special bow that he carried. He had tried to use it earlier to slay Khal Ankur in Serpent's Hold, but with no success. That was when Erollisi had reminded the others of what the gypsy girl had told them about the two of them needing to use it together because of the child she carried. Through their combined effort, the bow was loaded and drawn. Besides a final threat from Khal Ankur, there was little talk before the arrow soared.
Sorrow filled her as Chanticleer's body lay there lifeless. No more demon, but also no more of her friend. Erollisi was instantly struck with horror as Alisiea jumped on the body and began stabbing it repeatedly. She screamed for the girl to stop and tried to grab her arm, but to no avail. Erollisi yelled again as she pushed Alisiea off the dead man. She kneeled by the body as Nythrax stormed over and immediately started spewing threats at her. She stood back up slowly, "Then control her."

She was disgusted with these people. How could they behave like this? How could no one say anything? Squatting down, Erollisi picked up the lifeless body and ignored the continued threats from Nythrax as she moved past him. She paused for moment before leaving, and looked Judas square in the eyes. "You might reconsider whose company you keep."

[Judas D'arc]

---

no light just angry blue eyes unblinking her heart beat quickens large strong fingers close around her neck her breath escapes drops of his sweat touch her skin even in death offended

********

Her dreams of memory had become far more frequent. Claudia kept the fact of this entirely to herself; not only for her own peace of mind but also for Jolicia's. The emotional state of the woman she loved remained precarious at best, and the world around them was slowly falling into hell.

Khal Ankur was dead, yet the demon threat remained and the next step in its defeat appeared to involve the vampire Avella Isilian, the very last creature they should seek involvement with. The bard may have reached an accord in his ongoing feud with Alisiea, but as long as Nythrax continued to whisper in her ear, it was inevitable that the Gypsy Girl would choose unwisely. After facing torture at the hands of their enemies and Lucas' very abrupt end to their relationship, Aingeal seemed even more lost than ever. She had turned her back on protecting Alisiea as well as the tattooed destiny that her gypsy clan friends had imposed upon her. Survival seemed her only concern, and Claudia doubted that even a job offer with Shelley's Emerald Trading Company would fill her emptiness. And Faeryl still struggled with her haunted dagger, flirting with darkness and spending time with the likes of Lady Deathwynd and Renthar.

Claudia hated them as much as she could not help but love them. That vague whisper of old-Judas in her her head telling her of what to feel and of right and wrong. When she did behave as expected of him, it seemed to bring Jolicia comfort, and that was enough for now. But if the curse she was afflicted with continued, the now that it was enough for would soon disappear.

There was, of course, a glimpse of hope, the way there always seemed to be in these situations. Jolicia, along with the vile Renthar and their new acquaintance, the sorcerer Minalan Zhalfast, had cobbled together a plan to trap Garrott and force him to lift his spell. Consequently, the she-bard had journeyed to the Stygian Abyss with Faeryl, Lucas, Minalan, Natalya, and Nythrax to collect the ingredients that were needed for this. Yet it did not actually feel as if they were any closer to a solution.

As she had told Jolicia the night before, today was the day chosen to mark the anniversary of Judas' birth. While the exact date he had entered this world was unknown, this was the one that had been celebrated twenty eight times before. This time last year, the bard had returned to Yew after a long time spent wandering the lands alone. While there were things about her current life she was pleased with, such as her relationship with Jolicia, she could not help but prefer the circumstances of then to her present ones. And assuming she survived Garrott's curse, she dreaded what sort of misery her next birthday might bring, and would it be so awful as to make her nostalgic for this one?

[Jolicia]

---

Jolicia tried her best to keep her nervousness from showing on the outside as she approached the bar to sit. Garrott had arrived as she suspected he would, but not in the form she had hoped for. Instead he was in a man's body that she did not recognize and this was going to make their plan more difficult. "This is a new form for you... who are you tonight?"

He narrowed his eyes, "It's getting dangerous. I need to be more careful."

Garrott was far more anxious and paranoid this evening. Either he truly was in danger or he was screwing up again. Just the sight of Faeryl disguised as a messenger sent him into a complete panic as he jumped over the bar, shaking and pacing back in forth. Jolicia kept up the ruse and took the package from Fareyl so at least the necklace would be with her. She didn't know if she'd have a chance to get it on Garrott or not, but clearly they were operating in the unknown now.

Jolicia worked to get Garrott to talk more, to bargain or even just play his usual game to no avail. Instead he became more irrational. It wasn't until he had grabbed her by her left arm and continued to squeeze harder that she started to worry. When his kryrss came out though, she was suddenly thankful that her and Judas had exchanged communication crystals because she might actually need some help. He started to focus on Judas again, blaming him for the past. Jolicia took this opportunity to try and push the same buttons that she had on her last visit, but Garrott's reaction was not the same. He was shrieking with anger as he grabbed her again and dragged her upstairs.

Knocking the door open, Garrott pushed Jolicia onto the small bed. He held the kyrss at her heart, his hands and weapon visibly shaking, "Maybe I'll just kill you."

Jolicia tried to think quickly, "You... don't really want to do that. Last time you said I didn't deserve to be involved. How come I deserve to die now?"

He cackled at her, "He'll hate it."

She watched him, trying to get some form of expression, "So you lied and do want to cause harm."

Garrott snapped back with a devious grin, "Maybe I'll just take your body. I'll wear you as my clothes!" Fear started to settle more firmly into Jolicia as he moved away and kicked the wall. She slowly sat up in the bed as he waved the kryss at her, his hands still shaking, "Need to think ... need to think." He began to ramble about how they must have delivered the package, that they must have found him . Jolicia thought she saw a small window of opening , trying to get him to at least look at the necklace. But that only threw him over the edge more as he demanded to know how she would bargain for his help.

"Then let them come after you. Let them kill you!"

He cackled at her again, "He'll die then! They'll both die!"

"So will you!" Jolicia blurted out, then spoke more quietly realizing he had let something slip. "Both? What both?"

Garrott ranted, spiting as he spoke "Die die die. Can I even die?! Can I?!"

Another questioned answer, another slip, she thought to herself. She turned her head slightly to look at him, "Yes. You can. You wouldn't be so nervous otherwise."

His demeanor changed ever so slightly as he sighed and rubbed his face, "I just need ... I need something to make me think. To relax..."

Remembering something she had been told about Garrott before, she dug into her pack and pulled out a bottle of liquor, "Here..." He forcefully grabbed it from her and quickly downed the bottle. As he finished he threw it against the far wall of the room. Jolicia jumped a little and took out another bottle, setting it down on the floor. She watched quietly as he scooped up the second bottle, finishing it just as fast. He started to ramble about a stronger spell, to hide so no one could find him. Jolicia pleaded with him, "Let me... help..."

He took several deep breathes before looking to her and nodding, "Bring me the gypsy."

Jolicia sighed, "We've already gone down that path." While Alisiea's behavior lately had not been the most appealing to her, she knew that this was unthinkable.

Garrott screeched, "That's all I want!"

She tried to play on his paranoia some, "Can't be all that you want. Someone is hunting you."

He nodded twice to himself, "If I can't bring them her ... I'll bring them you!" Panicked, she agreed that she would go with him, peacefully, as long as he fixed Judas. That was her only concern, but Garrott made it more confusing, "That's not how is works! It only ends when one of them are dead!" She wasn't sure what he was blabbering about but she hoped Judas was listening and would be able to make some sense of it. He grabbed her by the arm again, yanking her off the bed and downstairs across the tavern. When he opened the front doors, he looked around suspiciously and she followed his gaze, but nothing was there. Then, as the door creaked close, an arrow soared past her head.

She was so proud of Judas' effort but s/he was definitely not skilled at fighting as a woman. Jolicia tried to distract Garrott away, but Judas was struck down. They chased each other around the docks and tavern before Jolicia lost him long enough to catch her breath. She rounded the tavern, coming back onto the docks and there he was with is blade at Judas' throat. Jolicia screamed at him to get away, but Garrott just grinned, "I don't see this ending well for either of you." He started to drag the unconscious Judas down the docks, Jolicia following at a safe distance... pleading, begging for him to stop... to take her instead. His only retort was to bring him the gypsy girl.

Jolicia paused a moment, noticing that they had moved far enough away from the town guards. She kept her distance long enough to whisper the words, "In Zu" and then cast the spell at Garrott. Suddenly asleep. Sweet, beautiful, peaceful sleep. As his eyes closed, Judas slipped from his arms, and Jolicia summoned more of her magic, It wasn't long before he fell to the docks, unconscious. Jolicia ran to Judas to check for a pulse and said a small praise as she found it. Then it hit her. The necklace was still in her pack. Quickly she ran to Garrott's body and secured it around his neck. Finding some rope as well, she tied him up and knocked him over the head for good measure.

Checking on Judas, she shook her gently, begging for her to wake up and to be okay. Her eyes slowly opened, and overwhelmed with emotion, Jolicia grabbed her and hugged her tight. Looking around quickly, "We... We need to take him somewhere. Fast." Judas nodded slowly as Jolicia helped her to her feet. A small bit of satisfaction came as they watched Garrott try to spirit away to another body only to fail. Struggling with the rope and his inability to leave. Opening a gate, Jolicia grabbed him by the rope and pulled him inside. Judas was right in her thought that "Bob" would know what to do next.

[Alisiea]

---

The mid-day sun warmed the docks of New Haven. A reminder of the summer that had passed and a warning of the snows that would soon arrive, it felt more like late April than late November. Everyone knew this respite from cold nights and gray days would be short-lived, but they pretended it would last. Shirtless workmen, loading and unloading ships paused now and then to wipe sweat from their brows. They acknowledged their appreciation of the warm day by sharing a ladle of water with the sailors who paused in their labors with the riggings. Gulls circled nosily overhead while stray cats crept among the bales and crates hunting mice or just dozing in the sun. Sevita too lay on her side lazily extending a wing to capture the sunlight. Occasionally she would lift her head to preen then snort and lay her head back down. Alisiea sat next to the vollem, her back resting against a bale of cotton; one hand absently stroking the vollem’s head as she watched the workmen. When she had been on her own, this was where she always came to think. When the passing of time meant little more than finding a place to sleep. When thinking was slightly less important than eating. Now however, with plenty to eat and a warm bed in which to sleep; thinking took on a completely new dimension.

“A selfish, spoiled brat. That’s what they called me Sevita. A spoiled brat.” The vollem snorted and thumped a heavy wing against the dock. “Aye, I know.” Alisiea agreed.

How things had gotten so jumbled up and confused; like a great ball of string with a thousand knots that defied solution, she could not guess. One moment she was happy. Carrying the child of the man she loved, she danced and sang like never before. Then, as if the Goddess herself was displeased, Paine was dead. Alisiea felt the loss more deeply than any cut by any sword or knife. But by then she had friends. Judas, Jolicia, Aingeal, Quinn, Striker and Gaius. People who cared about her and wanted her around. Now, however, things were vastly different. Now she was hunted. Forced to move from one place to another even after being told;

“You will be safe here, forever.”

The Daemons who flew seemed to be able to find her at will. Quinn was gone, taken by madness. Gaius was gone, taken by anger. Demi was gone, taken by the need to help others. Aingeal was there, but in many ways - not there. Judas was now a girl named Claudia and Claudia hated Alisiea. New people arrived to take the place of those who were lost even as the people she trusted suddenly turned against her.

“You are not a child and we are not your parents.”

Everyone wanted her to do what they wanted. For a time she felt certain the old man Balric had the answers. For a moment she felt he could save her and Celestia, but now even he was gone. Murdered by the daemon-possessed Knight of Ashencrosse. Then there was talk of taking her child from her. Some wanted to cut Celestia out of her now. To save time she guessed. Others argued to take the child away to some strange land where time moved differently. Then came the prophecy.


Instead salvation born;
From parents of tragic ends;
A girl named for the heavens;
And defended by her friends."

“Without father or a mother;
Another will have to guide her;
To teach her of our ways;
And all the magicks inside her."


Lord Nythrax took her in, cared for her, loved her and protected her. He was every bit like Paine. Strong. Noble. Wise to the way of the world, but he was not Paine. He kept torture devices in a dungeon under the very place she and Celesta slept and the Goddess only knew what all the bones and blood on the roof could mean.

“You will be safe here, forever.”

Now she finds he has been talking with Her; the Dark Mistress Child of Draven. The one who …

Alisiea rubbed her face and tugged at her hair. Sevita was dozing next to her and for a moment Alisiea wished she could be someone else. Someone not hunted, not prodded or fought over. Someone unknown. Someone who did not need to be kept hidden; kept safe. Shifting her weight she lay against Sevita’s bulk, her head resting on the beast’s feathered side. Her feathers were warm and her breathing raised and lowered Alisiea’s head in a comforting rhythm.

In the early spring Celestia would come into this world to do battle against forces that were far stronger than anyone living could possibly imagine.


“Without father or a mother;
Another will have to guide her;
To teach her of our ways;
And all the magicks inside her."


“If I am to die, then who will guide her?”

She would have let Balric teach Celestia. Indeed, he had offered as much and she felt she could trust him. She had grown fond of the old man. His stories comforted her and gave her strength. He would have taken Celestia somewhere safe and taught her the skills she would need to defeat the evil that was coming. Evil that was growing stronger with each passing day. But, now Balric was dead and that avenue was closed.

Alisiea lifted herself using Sevita for support. Celestia kicked hard and Alisiea winced in pain holding her side.

Nythrax? But he practiced Death Magick, Necromancy and he was … a vampire. Like … Her. Was that his plan? To take Ali in and protect her so he could raise Celestia in his own image? Everyone seemed to have plans for her unborn child. Indeed, if they believed Alisiea would be dead then Celestia would be fair game to both the light and the dark forces of this world. A prize more valuable than a mountain of gold. Who wouldn’t want to claim to be the teacher of the Sorceress who saved the world? Fame beyond imagining would be theirs. No wonder people turned to madness around her. Looked at her as if she were nothing more than the vessel that carried all their desires; all their hopes and dreams. And once that vessel was opened or broken; the contents would be theirs.

Daemons hunted her. Her friends fought over what to do with her. Nythrax kept her safe, clothed and fed her. Hovered over her. Told her what was wrong with everyone’s plans and how he would never let the prophecy be fulfilled. What did he mean by that? And what did he mean when he told her that now even Judas wanted her dead?

Alisiea felt a wave of panic sweep over her like a hot flash. Sevita, sensing her distress rose and, looking around the docks, growled and raised her hackles. Alisiea soothed the beast, scratching her behind the ear. The docks of New Haven were busier than Alisiea could remember. Ships from all parts of the world were either moored or casting off while others lingered in the bay waiting permission to dock. Dozens of sailors, dockworkers, passengers and crew hustled back and forth or ambled along taking in the sights. Fishermen hocked their days catch calling out the names of the fish they had caught.

“To be someone else. Someone unknown. Someone not hunted or prodded or fought over.”

Alisiea took Sevita to the stables, hugged her, fed her and turned her over to the stablemaster. She then went to the inn, ate a meal, rented a room and took a hot bath. She lay on the bed and napped until dark. Feeling refreshed, she dressed and left the inn. Nearing the square she hid herself in the shadows and waited. When the square was nearly empty of people she crossed to the docks. Still using the shadows, she waited until one of the ships, any ship, was about to sail and quickly, quietly slipped aboard. If she was caught, she would pay for her passage. If anyone asked; her name would be…

Jedzena

[Judas D'arc]

---

Ten and a Half Years Ago ...

With letter of introduction in hand, Judas had arrived in Magincia, the twinge of guilt over betraying Nicholas Cornigan easily disregarded in favor of new opportunities. As advised by Cubbins, that pig of a merchant who had arranged for all of this, the young bard headed immediately for the Stag & Lion Inn and asked to rent the least expensive room. After a disparaging remark about thrifty tourists, the innkeeper slipped him a small note. It was unsigned, but instructed him to make his way to the Great Horns Tavern, order a single ale, and then wait for further contact. Judas gave thanks with a slight smile and a few gold coins from his rapidly dwindling share of the Cornigan bounty.

Hours later, he was still at the tavern awaiting "further contact." Most of the customers were nobles, and did not even spare him the slightest of glances. The only attention he received was from the green-eyed bar maid who pestered him with offers of more ale that he continually refused. Finally, bored and frustrated and convinced this was all an elaborate scam perpetrated by Cubbins, Judas asked for another drink. But as soon as the glass reached his lips, and before the refreshing liquid could touch his tongue, he was interrupted by,

"That's more than a single drink."

The disapproving voice belonged to the waitress. The surprised bard spilled his ale all over the table. "But, you --"

She wrinkled her nose. "And now more work for me." The woman shook her head in disdain and leaned forward to whisper, "Your inn room. Thirty minutes."

This time, Judas did exactly as he told. He quickly departed the tavern, counting every second in his head as he wandered the streets of Magincia. Seventeen hundred and fifty later, he walked through the entrance of the Stag & Lion Inn. Without a word to the innkeeper, the young bard made a mad dash for his inn room, with the smallest hope of salvaging his first impression.

Inside the room was the woman from the tavern, who had replaced her dress with dark leathers. On each side stood a man and a woman, in similar garb to the waitress but also wore dark masks that concealed their faces. Both of the women had long daggers sheathed at their sides, and the man appeared unarmed, except for the small pouch at his belt.

"You're on time, at least," the bar maid remarked.

"I apologize about before," Judas tried to explain. "Please, if you could, I would ask for another chance?"

She smirked before turning to her masked companions. "What say you?"

"Why not?" The man answered playfully.

"Cut out his tongue and feed it to him," suggested the other woman.

"Now, now," the waitress chided. "I'm sure we can make use of him." Shen then relaxed her posture before continuing. "You can call me Shelley. From now on, you do exactly what I say and when I tell you, no questions asked."

He nodded but said nothing.

"This is Garrott."

The man removed his mask. Dark red hair and a friendly smile, yet there was also something odd that was difficult to put into words. "Good to meet you."

"And this is Claudia."

The other woman did the same. Dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes, with a beauty and poise that marked her noble birth. Her expression did not bother to conceal her contempt for him, and one moment was all he needed to realize that he would never be able to penetrate that shield of superiority.

For Judas, it was love at first sight.

********

By next morning, word had spread throughout the City of Vesper. Julian Randall, gem trader and member of the Vesper Ministry of Mercantiles, had been attacked while conducting business at the Shimmering Jewel. The arrival of the city guard had saved his life, although his prospects for survival remained slim. In fact, it was even said that he had stopped breathing until a guardsman had revived him. Rumor described the assailant as an undead abomination, and witnesses claimed to have seen both a skull faced creature clad in black armor and a raven-haired accomplice wielding a bow. Some also wondered if this incident was at all connected with the recent massacre of one of Randall's caravan's by a mounted, armored warrior, or with the acts of sabotage that had plagued a few of his recent gem shipments.

This was the news that the people of Vesper heard. The truth of it, however, was far more complicated.

********

Ten Years Ago ...

If Judas had ever known a bed that comfortable, he possessed no memory of it. Nor could he have predicted that he would be able to afford a suite at the luxurious Restful Slumber of Nujel'm. But the triumph that this "romantic excursion" to Magincia's neighboring island represented was worth any price paid. Next to him lay the seventeen year old daughter of a nobleman, still caught in the grasp of her alcohol-provoked slumber. Even in sleep, that innocent smile rested upon her lips, which made his need for departure even more urgent. So with sore muscles and a lack of regret, the bard forced himself out of bed. Within minutes, he was dressed and on his way to the prearranged meeting place.

"Well?" The cold demeanor of the Lady Claudia Destaing was there to greet him when he arrived at the city docks. Since his arrival in Magincia some months prior, Judas had made progress in earning the acceptance of Shelley and her tight-knit band. All of them, except for this young female rogue who spent her nights engaged in activities that would put her noble parents to shame. Which was why the bard had found it surprising when she recruited him for this particular scheme.

"I could not even begin to count the many ways in which Lavina Cardont is no longer a virgin," Judas gloated to his accomplice.

"Very charming." She rolled her eyes to emphasize the sarcasm.

"I did what was asked of me."

"That you did," Claudia nodded in agreement. "Which means a satisfied client, and more importantly, bonus coin for a job well done.

"Why did Reich want her spoiled, anyway?" The bard asked.

"Pride," she answered all matter-of-fact. "He has been attempting to arrange a marriage between Lord Cardont's daughter and his own son for months. When Cardont chose a different match, Reich determined that none should have her."

"Even if I spend the rest of my days in Magincia, I will never come to understand the motivations of such people."

"Such people?" The female rogue raised a curious eyebrow. "Does that include me?"

"Especially you."

Claudia smirked, the first time she had ever expressed anything but condescension towards him. "Perhaps, Judas, you are not quite as foolish as I believed."
********

A few minutes later, and Faeryl emerged from the Modest Damsel Tavern, still dressed in the green robes that attempted to conceal her identity.

"Well?" The question came from Judas. But since a spell had transformed him into a woman, "Claudia" was the name that s/he preferred. "Is she alright?!"

"I'm ... not sure ..." she replied. "He got extremely nervous and jumpy. Demanded to know who sent me."

"That does not sound good."

"I stuck to what I was told to say and nothing more." The female elf reminded her companion as she removed the robes. "What bothers me ... he wasn't in the woman."

Inside of the Modest Damsel, the mage Jolicia was attempting to lure Garrott, the body-stealing demon worshiper who had cursed Judas, out of hiding. They had asked Faeryl to impersonate a messenger bearing a present from a secret admirer. In truth, this "gift" was a magical necklace prepared by the female mage, the red sorcerer Minalan Zhalfast, and the loathsome Renthar. Once around his neck, it would prevent their foe from leaving the body he currently occupied. But given Garrott's mental instability, it was difficult to predict his reactions.

With the communication crystal linked to her lover's placed against her ear, "Claudia" strained to listen to what transpired between the tavern's walls. But after she overheard Garrott ranting about their past relationship, the female bard realized it was best to send her friend away and proceed in this alone. Some secrets were better left unspoken.

********

Nine and a Half Years Ago ...

The jungles of old Magincia were thick with sweat and mosquitoes, but this did little to dissuade them. For the prying eyes of local fauna were far preferable to the notice from their friends and rivals, or her family. Their breathing heavy, Claudia bent over slightly, her palms pressed against the tree for support, as Judas stood behind her, his hands firmly upon her hips. It was strange to him, the way she always chose positions that did not require any eye contact.

********

Garrott emerged from the Modest Damsel, his kryss was pointed at Jolicia's throat. This was no surprise to "Claudia," who had overheard their entire encounter through the power of their shared communication crystals. The body-shifter had made horrible threats against the female mage, claiming that he would kill her or hand her over to the demons. He had also demanded that Jolicia surrender Alisiea and her unborn child to him. From moment to moment, Garrott's demands seemed to change as he was consumed by addiction and madness.

When the bard's first arrow struck, it was enough of a distraction for his hostage to escape his grip. Instead, his attention was drawn to his assailant. The body that he occupied was much bigger than "Claudia," and also much faster, which she had not realized until his kryss penetrated her side. The wound seemed to burn, and a wave of nausea consumed her entire body.

"Poison," she realized, as she fell to the ground.

********

Nine Years Ago ...

"Shelley will not be pleased," Judas noted as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Shelley," Claudia narrowed her eyes as she spoke, "will never learn of this."

It was a small hut in the wilderness east of Vesper, and it smelled overwhelmingly of blood, urine, and other scents the bard was glad he could not identify. There was no furniture, only a large bear-skin rug covered by the aforementioned fluids and the unconscious Garrott, whose naked body was sprawled across the floor and covered in an assortment of herbs and mushrooms. Judas wondered at the source of all that blood, but realized that was another question about this strange scene that was best left unanswered.

"You cannot keep concealing this for him," he told his companion.

"I can do whatever I bloody well feel like, Judas," the female rogue retorted as she knelt by her sleeping friend. "Garrott?" She gently shook him. "Garrott?"

With a soft murmur, he slowly opened his eyes. "Claudia?"

She smiled, gently caressing his forehead. "We are here to take you home."

"Okay," Garrott nodded, before fading back into unconsciousness.

Claudia looked up at Judas, as if replying to his unspoken question. "Because he is my friend. And if that is not enough to satisfy, then truly I pity you."

********

Beneath the Salty Dog Tavern, "Claudia" and Jolicia were joined by their employer Shelley and her right-hand man, the demon hunter Lucas Drachen. Earlier that evening, Jolicia had managed to gain the upper hand against Garrott, knocking him unconscious and placing the magical necklace on him. As Garrott's body was now bound by ropes, so was his spirit equally trapped inside his current body.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble," Shelley began.

"Usually had to pay for this kind of treatment," added Lucas.

At first, Garrott refused provide any information about his gender-bending curse. He was only concerned about repercussions from their demonic opponents "They're after me for helping you!" He shrieked.

"Helping us how?" The female mage questioned skeptically.

"And I thought you were smart," their captive sneered. Then he began to recite the seven, instantly recognizable phrases:

"The past is done. The future written. Today no longer cares."

"When is the Samurai Empire not the Samurai Empire?"

"A legacy falls to harrowing hands."

"The right hand strikes while the left hand moves unnoticed."

"Destiny died to dark-hair where Courage never fails."

"He will have her."

"Betrayal will come from the most expected."

It was Garrott that was responsible for destroying Jolicia's former Ashencrosse home and leaving behind the strange riddles that had aided them in their ongoing struggle against the forces that pursued the unborn Celestia. "I'm their slave," he explained. I made a bad deal, I thought to play you against them. Then you had to send Judas right to me. What did you think I'd do?! What'd you think?!" He had mistaken the disguised Faeryl for one of the demon's assassins, falsely believing that his betrayal had been discovered. As he later revealed, "Khal Ankur was the right hand ... who did you think the left was?"

"Now then," Jolicia forced a change of subject. "How do we end the curse?"

"Protect me and I'll tell you everything!" The body-shifter screamed. "I promise!"

"No," she countered. "You don't hold the cards anymore. You tell us how to end it now or we deliver you."

"Garrott," Shelley interrupted. "If it's fine with Jolicia and Judas, here's my deal. You tell them what they want, and we'll consider it. Can't promise any more than that." She then asked of the two lovers. "That acceptable?"

They both agreed.

"There are only two ways to end the curse," Their prisoner advised. "He's becoming her, you know. He didn't raise a finger to avenger her. Now he gets to relive her death ... personally." This "her" that he referred to was Claudia Destaing, an old friend of Garrott, Judas, Lucas, and Shelley, who was slain years before by Lord Randall Reich of Magincia. The curse was slowly infecting Judas' mind, and eventually s/he would be compelled to confront her once-killer. It could not be removed directly, but the bard would be restored to normal if either Reich was dead, or if "Claudia" died by his hands. Such a "death" would not even be fatal to Judas, for the body-thief's intention was to punish him for failing to prevent the true Claudia's death.

As expected, none of them reacted well to this news. Both Shelley and Lucas were disgusted by how far Garrott had fallen. Jolicia alternated between pummeling their captive's face with her fists and demanding to know about Reich. And "Claudia" was simply overwhelmed by all of it.

Shelley signed and placed a hand on the mage's arm in an attempt to comfort her. "This is what you want?"

An angry glare answered in the affirmative.

"I mourn Claudia every day," their employer continued. "But I'm not the only one who has to be thinking this. She was foolish and reckless and got what she deserved. I begged her not to go after Reich. She didn't listen. It was a foolish move and it brought her death." She then let go of Jolicia. "You want him, I won't stop you. But there's a reason we didn't pursue it then. He's got an office in Vesper. The Shimmering Jewel. Goes by the name of Julian Randall. You want him dead, I won't stop you ..."

Without another word, Jolicia was gone.

********

Eight and a Half Years Ago ...

The hour was late, and everyone inside the Destaing Mansion was asleep, except for Claudia and Judas, who stood together in her room conversing in hushed tones. When she had failed to make an appearance at the Great Horns Tavern that evening, the bard had come looking for her. But instead of a warm body or even a smile, the noble-turned rogue had treated him as an unwelcome intruder.

"If I tell you, will you leave me be?" Claudia sighed irritably.

"Maybe," he smiled slightly. "It depends if I like your answers."

Her unspoken response was a dirty look more akin to the woman he had met on his first day in Magincia, not the one had had since become intimately familiar with.

"Fine," he acquiesced.

She avoided eye contact as she spoke. "My parents are starting to take more of an interest in my activities as of late. They believe it time I find a suitable husband. Imagine the scandal if they learned the truth about their darling daughter? Lord Destaing's daughter mixed up with thieves and scoundrels?"

"Well, I suppose that is no surprise," Judas stated as he moved closer with a smile. "But no matter what happens, you will always have me."

Her expression included both surprise and contempt. "What?!"

"Er ...what I am trying to say is ..." The bard swallowed hard. "I ... I love you, Claudia. And I will never abandon you."

She stepped back and looked at him as if he was the biggest fool in all Sosaria. "Please, Judas. You're embarrassing yourself."

********

One last time, she wiped away her tears, and reached for the front door of the Shimmering Jewel in Vesper, ready for whatever might happen within.

After Jolicia had left them behind, "Claudia" had journeyed to Vesper to prevent her lover from murdering Julian Randall. However, s/he had sorely misjudged the mage's intentions, and there was no one else there when the bard arrived. Yet, as soon as she approached the nobleman's place of business, she could feel Garrott's curse compelling her to enter. It was only through the efforts of Lucas, who had been sent there by Shelley, that "Claudia" did not. Then Jolicia arrived with Minalan Zhalfast, and the three of them dragged the bard back to Britain. A second interrogation of their body-shifting captive occurred, and a plan was formulated to force an end to his spell. "Claudia" would return to Vesper and confront Reich, while the others waited nearby disguised as local guardsmen. Once she "died," they would extract the restored-Judas from the scene before the nobleman was able to recognize him. While Garrott might have lied about her survival, and slaying Randall was still an option, "Claudia" had made her choice.

Jolicia voiced her opposition to this strategy, and after a tearful, farewell kiss, the bard asked the others to prevent her lover from interfering. However, "Claudia" had not carefully considered the interference of the necromancer Nythrax, a late addition to their return to Vesper.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Julian Randall demanded at the approach of the raven-haired woman wielding a bow.

"Arm yourself," She attempted to sound intimidating. "For this day is your last."

"I don't know what the meaning of this is," the nobleman stated as he reached for his staff and armor. "But I suggest you depart. Immediately."

"No," cried the bard as she released her bowstring.

Arrow against staff, with neither gaining a clear advantage. Until a mounted Nythrax suddenly burst into the shop, armed with his weapon and dark spells.

"In Sar," the rabble-rousing necromancer chanted as he struck Randall down.

"Claudia" was stunned. This was exactly what she had been trying to prevent. "No!" She screamed as she turned her bow on Nythrax.

The necromancer easily parried her attacks. "Oy, calm down deadeye," he stated, almost casually. "You are being irrational." Then for good measure, he steered his horse to trample the unconscious nobleman.

The others, still wearing their guardsmen uniforms, soon joined them. Upon surveying the scene, Jolicia rushed to "Claudia," while Lucas moved to examine the fallen Julian Randall. "We have to get him to the healers," he advised, before lifting the fallen man off of the floor and quickly departing.

"Listen. This is now a *crime scene*," the red sorcerer urged them. "I suggest that we all abscond immediately. Before the real guards get here."

"Claudia" glared at Nythrax. "I never ... wish to lay eyes on you ... again."

"What? You had a moral dilemma, I took it off your hands."

"No!" She screamed again. "He did not deserve this ..." Before she could give voice to any further rage, the bard felt a throbbing pain in her chest. All eyes were upon her as she fell to her knees. "I ... I feel funny."

"Jolicia, healing magic!" Minalan shouted as he moved closer.

"What's ... wrong?" The mage's eyes were filled with concern.

"Please," gasped "Claudia" as she struggled to push them away. She was struck by a strange sensations, and she could feel her body becoming something unfamiliar.

If Garrott was telling the truth, the curse had been ended.

If Garrott was telling the truth, Randall Reich was dead.

If Garrott was telling the truth, Judas had failed once again.

********

Eight Years Ago ...

As Judas chased Claudia across Magincia, his confusion struggling to keep pace with her rage, he was still uncertain how quickly the present circumstances had deteriorated.

A mere hour ago, Shelley had called a meeting to discuss their recent disagreement with their now-former customer, Lord Randall Reich. When their group had failed to sabotage a rival gem merchant in the exact manner the nobleman had requested, he had withheld a portion of their payment as punishment. Tensions were further aggravated by associates of Reich's competitor, who had sent two mercenaries, each bearing the crooked dagger symbol of the infamous Library of Scars, to Magincia. Although both assassins were slain, Garrott had suffered a broken arm, and Sokus a castration. They had gathered there to discuss their next move, but Claudia's only interest was the gold owed to them, and neither Shelley nor Judas nor Lucas nor Stower could dissuade her anger. Or prevent her abrupt departure.

"Claudia!" The bard shouted, again attempting to catch her attention.

This time, the female rogue stopped. Tears streaming down her face, she turned and said to him. "You are cowards. The whole lot of you."

Judas sighed in frustration. "I know you are upset. And I agree that something needs to be done about those responsible for hurting Sokus and Garrott. But pursuing a feud with Reich over coin seems a bit ... much."

"Reich must pay!" She glared. "Men such as he, they believe their birth and their privilege permits them to control everyone and everything around them. Well, I refuse to allow others to determine my path. That gold is mine."

"Gold, Claudia? Your father is nearly as wealthy. Truly, what is this?"

She just stood there defiant. "The others have already refused to help -- but what about you? If you truly feel for me the way you always claim then join me ... if not, I will simply have to take care of it alone."

"This is insane," He told her as he reached for her hand. "Come back to the tavern, we can discuss this with the others over some ale --"

Claudia pulled her hand away. "Exactly why I could never love you, Judas. You are a coward and a liar, only ever thinking of yourself. Shelley might have given you that false identity and some fancy clothes, but all you are is a bastard from the Deep Forest that nobody ever cared to want."

His response was stunned silence.

"You're no good!"

Those were the last words he ever heard her speak. And then she left his life forever.

[Mariko Shimada]

---

“Aruji?” Umeko gently shook Mariko until she stirred awake. “Aruji?”

“What is it Umeko?” Mariko groaned in a sleepy voice as she rolled onto her side facing the other direction.

“Mistress. There is something you must see.” There was an urgency in Umeko’s voice that caused Mariko to turn slightly towards the girl. “What is it Umeko?" She asked again with a hint of exasperation in her voice. “It is very early and you know I like to sleep until noon.”

“Hai, Aruji. But … but there is someone downstairs.”

If anything was going to bring Mariko’s head off the pillow it was that statement. She had not seen or heard form her Danna, Lord Takeamada, for almost a month. He had gone back to his estate in Homare Jima after receiving a report that the Black Mantis Tong was operating in his district again. It was worrisome not to have received any word from him for such a long time. Perhaps it was he who was waiting downstairs. Mariko got up, threw a silk robe over her shoulders and turned to Umeko

“Very well Umeko. As you can see, I am up now so please, who is downstairs?”

Umeko gave several quick bows in succession. “Mistress, please hurry. I do not know if the girl will live or not.”

Mariko frowned. “A girl? At our gate? Not live? What in the world are you talking about?” But Umeko was already headed for the stairs.

Mariko followed, tugging her robe tighter around her as they padded down the stairs and out into the formal entrance garden. A thick, early winter fog had blanketed the city creating an atmosphere of eerie foreboding. The paper lantern Umeko held before her as she led her mistress towards the outer gate did little to dispel the crisp, frost laden fog. The air was very still.

“I was leaving for my lessons and tripped over her.” Umeko explained as she opened one side of the gate. “I thought at first she was dead, but when I looked closer I saw it was not so, but very nearly so. She is Gaijin, Mistress.”

Umeko held the lantern higher so Mariko could examine the bundle that lay with its back pressed against the gate. A ragged filthy blanket covered what appeared to be a young woman. Her long hair was damp with frost and tangled in a mass of thick knots. Her young face was pale as death. Only the bruises from a recent beating showed dark against her skin.

“She has been beaten.” Mariko observed.

“Gaijin” or foreigners were not always welcome in Tokuno and foreign beggars and refugees were, more often than not, severely ill treated or quite often killed by roaming bands of Ronin. Lifting the blanket Mariko examined the young woman closer. She was clothed in a simple dress that was torn and muddy. If she had arrived in Zento with any money or jewelry at all it would have been stolen from her very early on. It appeared she had been living on the streets for several weeks. The girl was gaunt and half-starved and, as Mariko saw when she lifted the blanket further, barefoot. But what caused Mariko to cover her mouth in alarm was what she discovered when Umeko held the lantern closer; the girl was with child.

“Quickly, we must get her inside.”

Together the two woman managed to lift the girl and carry her into the entry hall where they laid her near one of the heating braziers. Mariko sent Umeko to fetch a healer while she examined the girl closer. The girl was definitely gaijin and could not be more than sixteen or seventeen years of age. Mariko gently pushed some of the girl’s dark hair away from her face. Large purple bruises colored her jaw and cheek and her right eye was swollen. The plain dress was wet and stinking with filth from the gutters and mud soaked alleys. Several open sores on the girl’s legs needed tending. Laying her hand gently on the girl’s swollen belly, Mariko closed her eyes and waited for some sign that the baby still lived. A tense moment passed before she felt the slightest kick from within the mother’s womb. Nodding, Mariko removed her robe, covered the girl then went to boil a pot of clean water.

By the time Umeko returned with the healer, Mariko had managed to wash much of the dirt and grime from the girls face and neck and cleaned the sores on her legs, but her pallor was alarming and her skin was cold and clammy to the touch. After the healer examined her, they carried her to the upstairs pillowing room where they left her with the healer who examined her further. When he was finished they removed her clothing, cleaned her further and covered her with fresh blankets. As Umeko sat watch over the girl, Mariko escorted the healer to the gate.

“She is in very bad condition, but with care she might survive although I am not certain of the odds. She should not be moved except to bathe, which should be done soon. Should she wake, feed her only broth for several days. The unborn child is strong but, considering what the mother has been through, it will be a wonder if either of them survives. There was one odd thing though. The girl’s hair appears dark in color but, as I examined her closer, I found her natural color to be red, like wine. Why she changed her hair color raises a number of questions. Perhaps she is a fugitive from mainland law. It is not for me to say, but I would not tell anyone about her until we learn more. I will return tomorrow to check on her again. In the meantime keep her warm, If she wakes, feed her small amounts and bathe her as soon as possible.”

“Domo arigato.” Mariko said as she pressed a coin in the man’s hand and opened the outer gate. The thick fog still clung to the city and swirled around the diminishing form of the healer as he headed home. Mariko watched him go then closed and locked the gate. As she returned to the house a number of thoughts raced through her mind. Taking the gaijin in was a risk. If word got out she was sheltering a fugitive, even one from the mainland, if indeed that was what the girl was, then, according to the laws of Tokuno, Mariko could be punished. If the girl was nothing more than a refugee, then caring for her would not be a crime, but would be looked upon as weak and sympathetic to the mainlanders as a whole. Worse, if it was discovered that the girl was a spy, someone willing to endure such abuse in order to garner sympathy and thus gain entrance into Tokuno society, then both Mariko and Umeko risked death.

Climbing the stairs, Mariko paused at the doorway of the pillowing room and studied the girl. Her skin was sickly gray and shrouded in a glistening sheen of death. Umeko looked up at her mistress and shook her head. Mariko nodded. Perhaps the girl would die and the issue would be closed, but for now, the best course of action was to say nothing and keep the girl within the walls of the Okiya until more could be learned. The day was not starting out well, then again, it was still very early.