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[Bailos]

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During the twilight hours of the night, Bailos was entertaining himself by sitting on the floor of Spawn's office in quiet meditation. He reached out with his mind to find the young Arakad, fast asleep in his home. A grin inched its way accross Bailos's face as he began to concentrate on his message.

Meanwhile...Arakad begins to turn in his sleep as his minds drifts to the message
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In his dream, Arakad suddenly wakes. Standing amidst a vast expanse of nothing, fully decked in his armor which was dirtied as if he had seen battle. He could almost feel the sweat and dirt on his forehead. He looks about, no sound, no light, no sensation. Just him and eternity.

With a combination of resolve and panic, he takes a step forward. As the heel of his foot makes contact with what seems to be the ground, a burst of light erupts but 30 feet in front of him! As if flying at breakneck speed down a tunnel, images and sceneries fly around him, none clear enough to make out in great detail. Whizzing by him until finally it stops. The light subsides and Arakad finds himself amidst a scene of the city. Of Sanctus.

Taking care to discern where exactly he is, he takes a few steps and finds himself walking through the doors of the hostel. There are a few gentlemen around a table in the corner. It is the Baron, Zarlox and Spawn and a few other men in a heated discussion over the state of things. They are but a few paces away but their voices sound so distant...an echo of the past. They plot to take back the city! To dethrone the usurper.

Arakad steps closer, curious as to why no one notices him. He motions to move a chair out of his way, to clear the path, but his hand slips right through it, passing as if the chair were not there. He begins to understand.

THe sound of the men fades, but their mouths still move. Not even the shuffling of his own footsteps. Silence. A disembodied voice greets Arakad now. It is unmistakably Bailos.

While some may move beyond the past, these events perpetually echo into eternity. *Arakad momentarily panics, looking for the source of the voice* Baron, Zarlox, Spawn...even Sadira. They are all but an echo. Relics of a history. The old timber must be burned to ash by the cleansing flame, if the forest ever hopes to regrow.

These men were better fit to be examples for the future, not leaders of the now. I was not finished, gentle Arakad.

A bright bust of white light blinds Arakad for a moment, when it subsides, the scene that precluded the blast is now gone, replaced in front of him by a beautiful scene of a burial complex and garden. Four tombs, the names of which Arakad had already assumed. A lone figure, with its back turned to Arakad, stood in front of the vaults. The heavy black robe moved softly in the air the man turned...Bailos's face greeted the warrior, stark and expressionless. The disembodied voice continued...

Is it man's place to shake his fist in defiance of the natural order of things? Is it his place to challenge? You know it to be true, the cycle must continue.

*the scene fades away. Nothingness returns, and the sound of raging flames fills the air, as if a great fire rages. The voice continues*

No Arakad, this future is not for me. I am a monster. There is no place in this world for one such as myself. Man chides the cleansing flame, fears it, seeks to destroy it. But inside, man knows he cannot continue on without it. Very few have the strength to do what is neccessary. I must ask, do you?

[Arakad]

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The air of the manor was stiff with life, hanging lanters unlit within the large house sway back and forth from the breeze of an open window. The crackle of the hearth fire grantedlittle light in the den just off from the library, where, in the reading chair, sat the dark robed figure curled up into the cushion of warmth and safty of its own form.

Arakads body turned and tossed from the images portraying through his mind, voices of dream mingling with the voices already existing in his mind. His hands flexed like those of a cat seeking a post to scratch. The gutteral snarl alien even to him as he shot up to his feet immediatly seeking his sword wraped upon the frostwood table beside him.

"Bloody`ell was that..." with a passing grace the man walked from the den, around the hard table and under the archway into the library, the bookcases of various wood lining his vision in the unlit room. Speaking a silent phrase the hanging lanterns quietly ease into their glare of light.

~Now...that was interesting...and perhaps prosperous in the near future...not one of..our normal dreams~

Bringing an ungloved hand to his temple he gave a single middle finger poke to the soft of his skin "Don't start right now...Its to blasted early for your nuisance"

The padded footsteps of Arakad echoed through the manor as he made his way to the far wall of the library and leaning against the alchemist table he looked out the window. The sunrise of Malas granting shadows over the twisted and sigil covered skin that was present on his face. "Soon you ghastly visage... you will see what I call justice"

Somewhere, in the dark recess of Arakads mind a silent voice spoke in the shadows ~I think I'm going to enjoy this~