Deviations in Writing

+ June 2006
+ The Empire of Nod

Though travel was not unheard of in Nod, most of the times even the most popular of roads were sparsely populated. Traders tended to move around only in cycles, during the spring and fall, leaving the roads clear for those visiting family during the summer.

The year before, Destiny and her acolytes from the temple went on a tour of the Empire, visiting every city and nearly all of the guard stations; making sure that the majority of the population knew of the Priestess’s words and also giving them a chance to find a group of girls willing to dedicate themselves both to the temple and to Demere. Surprisingly enough, the task was not difficult, and with a great amount of care two girls were chosen from each town, except for Cogstein; all of them between the ages of 15 and 16. In total twenty girls were selected and given a final year to spend with their families and friends before reporting to the temple for training.

When it came to deciding upon the girls they would choose, Destiny and her acolytes had to decide what they most needed out of the girls. They all had to be strong, both mentally and physically for they would be leaving behind their families and traveling throughout Nod for the majority of the years to come, until they retired from their positions. They would be required to take a number of strict vows that might be difficult for some to stick to: sobriety, abstinence and total commitment not only to the Shadow Lord, but to the entire Empire. Finally, they would have to have the willpower to follow the words of the Shadow Lord, to dismiss personal thoughts in order to act without hesitation, whether it would to take a life or to save one.

Now a year later, the girls were on the road toward the temple, though with the intention to stop in Neo-Krell and pay their respects to their deity and regent before continuing on. Days into their journey, news made it to them byway of a runner, that the Princess had been struck blind and mute. The girls were already slipping well into their devote mindset. While only half the story traveled with the runner, they understood that it the disfigurement had occurred at the hand of one known as Saint. Born and raised in reclusive areas, the majority of the girls had not heard of him, though some considered themselves fortunate enough to share what information they knew with their newfound sisters. The stories all sounded conflicting, but together the girls worked their own twist to the story, one that would be repeated across the Empire within months, and while it would never be accepted by the upper-echelon of Nod’s populace, the common people that made up the heart of the land would take the words as gospel.

The story was both simple and complex. Saint, the chosen beloved of the Princess had become a tool of the Shadow Lord, in a move that was both destructive and tender. It was obvious that his intent went beyond harming the girl, otherwise a single attempt would have been sufficient, however after the Dream Lord granted the Princess her sight once more, Saint was again brought forth to once more render her blinded. When looking at the events logically, why would the Shadow Lord allow a figure so important to him—considering that the Princess is both his daughter of the flesh, and his Priestess—unless there was some higher reason? Furthermore, he had chosen the one she loved in order to provide a kindness to the event, giving them both a chance to prove differing aspects. For Saint, though consciously unaware that he was being guided by the Shadow Lord’s hand, is was proving his loyalty; whereas for the Princess it allowed her to prove that she could act independently, while she refrained from seeking aid in overcoming her new hindrances. So spoke the sisters, and so it became both truth and mythology within the vast Empire of Nod.

Four guards had been assigned to the caravan, watching over the girls and making sure that their trip to the temple was a smooth one. It did not take long for the four men to grow tired of the chattering of twenty girls, and seek other avenues of entertainment. After setting up camp each night, the guards would sit around and play cards or other games to amuse themselves. Anytime they crossed paths with other travelers, the guards would invite them to sit and enjoy a meal with them. Most would stay the night, sharing stories with either the guards or the girls, enjoying the company before departing at daybreak.

The runner had been invited to join the group, but his mission was to get the word spread as far and wide as possible. While the guards weren’t pleased in the least, the girls were too caught up in the story to even bother them that night. Through the night they wove the story together, blending together known facts with half-truths and made up ideas. Long before dawn, the guards were lulled to sleep by the sound of twenty anxious girls murmuring over a fire.

In the end, the girls would never be able to point out who first suggested the idea, but all stood behind it with fervor. An hour passed between the first girl and the last one entering the darkness forevermore. They didn’t even pause to watch their final dawn, but in groups of two or three, in one instance a single girl alone, clawed out their own eyes and by this process bound themselves as sisters forever.

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+ June 2006
+ The Empire of Nod

Within Demere’s office in the Sceth household, Demere and Alex were going over .some paperwork relating back to his businesses in England. Out of the blue, Demere paused in mid-sentence and looked up at Alex with a peculiar expression upon his face. His assistant for the last five years, Alexandria was rather accustomed to any mood that Demere could throw at her, from the brooding Shadow Lord to the joyful family man. Nothing surprised her.

That is, except that look.

“Yes Demere?” she questioned him, prompting some form of verbal clarification to the look.

“Something… does not feel right.”

The curious tone that affected his voice even caused the dog at his side to raise his head; the massive shadow-demon who took on the form of an English Bulldog with glowing red-eyes, who stood both as protector and companion to the Sceth family. After a snort, Buttercup rested his head back upon the floor and seemed to drift back off into his nap.

Though Buttercup wouldn’t urge the topic further, Alex knew it was her job to further pry into the thoughts of her sovereign. “’Something doesn’t feel right,’ hmm? Would you mind narrowing this down a touch, Demere, or are we going to leave it at that?”

Sitting in silence, Demere seemed to grow more introverted as Alex’s patience grew thin. Moving away from Demere’s desk, she headed for the door before he tilted his head to the side, neck cracking repeatedly. The sound halted her steps, forcing her to turn and lean against the doorjamb.

“I want you to go check on something for me, Alex.” Subtle as usual, Demere did not add anymore to what he said until a motion from the woman prompted one from him. “Head up north, I can’t tell where specifically. Start on the border to the Forest of Illusions, if there isn’t anyone there then don’t bother. Just head on to the guard station there and Phent.”

“What exactly should I be looking for?”

Demere offered her a shrug, “Anything suspicious.”

“Gee, thanks Demere. Would you like me to pick up your dry cleaning as well?” If there was one thing that Alex hated, it was menial work; worse, the kind that appeared to have no purpose other than to get her away for a few days. It only took a moment for Alex to realize that Demere purposefully ignored her snarky comment, and finally pushed off the doorjamb to leave.

“It’s nothing dangerous, but take something with you just in case,” Demere added, attention focused upon the papers before him. Alex took the meaning of his words and left the office to prepare for her little trip up north.

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+ June 2006
+ The Empire of Nod

During the early days of Lych’s reign of terror over Havenlore, Demere had been his right-hand man; leading battles of atrocity in the name of Chaos. Few knew the reasons why Demere suddenly turned his back upon the Lych, but it took very little time before Lych decided to turn his focus upon his former right-hand. While he never directly went after Demere, Lych did send his minions and ordered them to assault the land. Unwilling to risk his people to the undead scourge, Demere raised the shadow barrier over the land.

While this barrier would not keep people out of Nod, it did eliminate much of their abilities once inside. People were difficult to hunt when you were blind and deaf; when you couldn’t make heads or tails of being touched, it was a simple task for the common folk to lead out the troops that attempted to invade. Better still, the barrier kept many at bay who would attempt to sneak in and commit their own vile deeds—not in the name of Lych, but under their own banners.

Even beyond the threat of war, this barrier remained intact by Demere. Passable only by those who rightfully lived in Nod—immigrants to the land remained on the unprotected border lands until they were processed and permitted access. Beyond guard towers, there were a few unprotected structures that existed on the borders. First and foremost was the infamous Cain’s, a common gathering spot for those of Havenlore. Additionally, a bar had been built by Nod’s own Sapheria—however this establishment had been destroyed by the Saint in the last few years. On the eastern shore, a port stood half-protected to allow for the import and export of materials. In the north, a smaller port stood open, but the barrier for this port stood very close to the water’s edge, protecting the secret of Cogstein. The last unprotected structure stood in the center of Crystal Lake, the temple that Destiny had named Corda Mandulómi.

The barrier was intelligent, locked into a sentient being. Each person who pledged their life to Nod became known, their physical and psychic signature known to the barrier. As such, when Destiny returned to Nod from the temple all those months ago, with the wings hidden in her back, the barrier slowly began to acclimate itself to the genetic material that had been hidden under her skin. Even after the wings became a known object to her, Destiny never would have thought about the barrier and its effect. Nor did she recall the illness she’d felt upon passing through its protection.

The roads through Nod were easy to follow; well tended and free of ruts byway of a more permanent surface lain upon them. The road started only after clearing the woods behind Cain’s, as they never desired any vagrant soul to traverse them, regardless of their abilities—or lack thereof—beyond the barrier. A spider’s web of roads branched out and led to each of the Empire’s cities, though the widest road was clearly destined for the capital city of Neo-Krell. Very few people populated the roads during the evening and night, especially upon the rise of summer. Were this fall, then traveling groups would be heading toward the next farm to start upon the harvest; instead, most people were at home, enjoying the calm night with their families.

What might strike some as surprising was Nod’s appearance. Inside of that barrier, the land looked much like any other; will rolling hills and brought forests. Yes, it had it’s share of darkness—such as the fetid hazy that clung over Cogstein, or the haunted woods in the far north east—but these would be difficult to see. People who crossed paths upon the road greeted one another with warm words, even if they knew not the other soul, for they were fellow citizens first and foremost. There were no bandits or cutthroats upon the highways, no boogiemen lurking in the dark.

Neo-Krell was a city befitting capital status. The Empire’s banner flew upon the minor walls that encircled the city; which were not there for defensive purposes, but rather as markings of the city’s boundary. The streets were broad and clean, fountains marked the city’s center, behind which rose the royal buildings featuring the capital building, the library and Dalamar Scythe’s tower, a foreboding spire which casts its shadow upon the library below.

The city is run by Demere’s son, Artemis, with Dalamar providing assistance when needed. Commonly however, Dalamar focused upon seeking out information for the Empire and further expanding its library—not to mention his own private one.

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+ June 2006
+ The Tavern of Dreams, Celeano

The night would be marked as one of the most peculiar for Destiny. With some plan seeming to lurk in the back of his mind, Cursed brought forth one of Nod’s fallen: Destiny’s own beloved, Saint. Through fire and ash, his body brought forth to stand amidst the growing mass of people within the foreign establishment. Unabashed by his nudity, the man seemed to take pleasure in his risen body; nails cutting against his skin and letting free a torment of blood to weave a trail against the length of his torso, staining his cocaine white skin with the red of his blood.

Drawn by the alluring scent, Destiny cut the distance between them. Afflicted with the pesky Ventrue nature of desiring one particular source to feed from, Destiny was caught with the discomfort of having only one avenue of feeding—unless she was driven to her Father’s herd, usually by starvation or the demands of her brother. While she had hated what Demere had forced her to become, the Saint coaxed a deeper understanding of her new nature, and helped her rise beyond the misery of feeding. In turn, her affliction had latched onto the man, and blood from others made her feel quite displeased. So with the scent of his blood on the air, and her lack of feeding for over two weeks, Destiny was eager to close the distance between herself and her beloved.

Positioning himself behind the Princess, Saint’s hands played against her back; razor-sharp nails breaking through the fine fabric and splitting open each layer. With a callous motion, the clothing was discarded upon the floor. Strangely enough, in a room surrounded by friends and family, none even looked twice at the now nude couple; nor when Saint’s nails began to rake across Destiny’s pale skin and place random cuts upon her chest and stomach. Against her back, she could feel the parasitic reaction of Saint’s body beginning to heal his wounds; the wormlike manipulations that pressed out and dove back into his flesh.

Her hands cupped about the backsides of her arms, crossing over her chest and feeling tacky against the blood on her torso. Drawing her hands down, her thumbs brushed the insides of her arms, feeling the self-inflicted scars that lined her pale flesh. As her thumbs brushed against the interior of her wrists—and thus the small winged tattoos—Destiny felt a jolt of anguish rip up her arms; but its presence was quickly nullified by the shudder that gripped her shoulders caused by Saint’s destructive hands upon her stomach and his hips pressing forward against her. His blood was beginning to dry and form a tacky feeling against her back, which had begun to writhe against him. A sensation deep in the muscles of her back caused her to seize and jerk away from Saint’s body. Upon her shoulder blades, her skin broke open with a horrific tearing sound; a fresh sheen of blood marking Saint’s chest, though this time Destiny’s rather than his own. White feathers burst free and the air was riddled with the sound of shifting bones as a full set of angelic wings made their appearance. Freed from their prison, they flexed about the girl and her Saint, wrapping back against the male’s sides.

From either side, the response was silent. Saint’s hand rose to brush upon the bloody base of the nearly emerged wings; whereas Gideon looked awestruck upon Destiny… and his wings.

Destiny herself would recall little of the incident. Between her poor feeding schedule and the loss of blood she had experienced in that short period of time, the girl fainted dead away, slumping into Saint’s arms. His act of rescuing the girl was lost within the haze of that time period, for the next thing Destiny recalled was waking in bed, laying upon her stomach to accommodate the massive wings.

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+ March 2006
+ Neo-Krell, Nod

Though she would never admit to it, Destiny had taken an interest in the studies she should have previously learned as a young child. Unlike her twin, Destiny despised being forced to learn about history—and truly, any other subject considered—and fought tooth and nail to avoid her lessons. Years later, she could be kicking herself as she sought to absorb everything she could find on Havenlore’s history.

It was by no small feat that she finally braved herself and entered Neo-Krell. While facing her Uncle Dalamar would be no easy task, it certainly would not be as difficult as informing her brother of her wishes. No, even with Dalamar’s memory loss, he would be the kinder of the two evils. Thus she entered the capital city and made her way to the heart of the royal district, regarding the architecture of the palace, her half-brother’s home and the other magnificent buildings with an eye of coolness.

Also within the heart of this district stood Dalamar’s tower, a terrific spire of grand heights, from which the crazed elf ‘ruled’. Ever since the battle to destroy Id, Dalamar had been fighting to regain his memories, and the personal crusade against his mental shadows gave the city more than a few trips into Hell. Thankfully, Artemis’s command of the city was firm, and he was able to reign in Dalamar when needed. At the base of Dalamar’s tower stood the library; while the building was massive, it was still dwarfed in the shadow of the spire.

The reintroduction of Destiny and her Uncle was not a smooth process, but by the girl’s sheer persistence and force of will, she reestablished herself and finally acquired permission to enter the library. Filled with books collected from not only the Empire of Nod, but all of Havenlore and realms beyond, it was the perfect place for Destiny to begin her reeducation. Given a tour of the establishment, Destiny quickly narrowed her focus down to one subsection: Havenlore’s history, as written by those who had lived it. Oddly enough across the library stood a section devoted to untranslated—or worse, untranslatable—tomes, that while the significance of them could not be determined, they would not be removed from the library’s records.

Destiny had chosen a book written by Dalamar himself, which had seen some wear and tear as he had read it in an attempt to reclaim his lost memories. Sitting at a table in front of the section, Destiny’s eyes kept rising up toward the section of unknown titles. Disgruntled by her waning focus, she slammed closed her Uncle’s book and shoved the chair back, ignoring the horrific sound that it made upon the wooden floor. Stalking across the library, she grabbed hold of a massive book with both hands and pulled it free from the shelf.

The discovery of that book was quite literally a godsend; though an unintentional one (or was it?). It started at the very beginning, and told the tale of Havenlore quite in-depth, as though the author had personal knowledge of every moment of the realm’s existence. The reading was solid and focused, which quickly drained the girl’s energy. After dozing off more than once, Destiny decided to call it a night and head home; leaving the book upon the table rather absently.

In cleaning up the library, the head scribe pondered at the book’s presence upon the table. None of the scribes had been able to decipher the words, and the only patron to the library that day had been Destiny. It wasn’t possible for this child to be able to read the book, was it? Curiosity running rampant, the man opened the book once more to see if he had mistaken it for another. Just as he had thought, the words were utterly foreign with no hope of ringing a single bell of familiarity. Shaking his head, the head scribe wondered what Destiny could have possibly been doing with the tome and he returned it to its position upon the shelf.

Three more times Destiny visited, each time reading more from that one book. Arriving upon more recent time periods, she began to learn about the return of the Founders and soon the arrogance exhibited by Chaos. Her Father’s role was seen, as was his abandonment of Lych; even her and Damien’s birth was mentioned in the book, as though it was some grand event. The Blessings applied upon the siblings was detailed—something which struck Destiny as peculiar, as her Father made it seem like it was a deep family secret.

When that chapter came to a close, Destiny decided to call it a night.

Though she had become a regular fixture within the library, weeks turned into months and soon she was all but forgotten by the scribes who worked within Neo-Krell’s library, though upon occasion one would be dusting the shelves and take notice of the tome that Destiny could read with such ease; unknowing that the book was legible to only those with the blood of the Founders within them.

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+ February 2006
+ Corda Mandulómi

Within Prokovia, by the command of the land’s ruler Agrovale, an act of atrocity was committed with the execution of the angel Gideon. By three swings of the executioner’s axe, not only was Gideon’s head severed from his body, but his wings as well. It was seen by Agrovale’s hordes that he took the head and wings of the fallen angel, but what had he done with these objects?

Unknown to all but him, Agrovale had his plans. The wings had their destination, and would soon be placed within a new vessel; one that would be oblivious to their arrival for a number of months.

It was late in the night when the plan came to fruition. Within the heart of Corda Mandulómi, Destiny was unintentionally sleeping within the deep bowl of her bathtub; the steaming water soaking her body into total relaxation. A whisper echoed through her dreams, the mention of a gift but with no further information. Nor would she even recall the specific words or even the voice upon waking. If her back had taken on a prickling sensation, the blonde elf would not have even noticed, due to the heated water she was luxuriating in. In fact, upon awakening she would only acknowledge the occurrence by the fact that her wrists now bore two little tattoos of wings; her only memory being the words, “a gift,” murmured into her psyche.

Considering these were not the first set of artificially given tattoos, Destiny was neither bothered nor even curious as to their origin. They simply became yet another peculiar aspect of the unusual girl.

A secondary effect of the unknown wings was felt when she returned to the barrier protected portions of Nod. Feeling almost ill to her stomach, Destiny took the reaction as simple dread. These were the days of poor footing between Destiny and her Father; also the main reason as to why she spent the majority of her time in the temple, rather than her Father’s home. After a few trips between the temple and her former home, the ill feeling departed—or rather it was simply ignored.

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+ December 2005
+ The Dreamscape of Destiny Sceth

The sky was dark and bleeding; either from the setting sun or the field ablaze, both were equal in their crimson vibrancy and toxicity. Cries of the lost, along with the heady scent of enriched blood, was carried upon the whipping winds; the cyclonic pattern gifting the scents and sounds to both sides of the wretched battlefield.

For the time being, both armies stood at vast attention, arms at the ready; yet neither seemed to think the time was at hand to cross the invisible line at the center of the war ground. The plateau had been unconsciously divided along the latitude though the soil that they stood upon was unrecognizable; no name breathed upon either side of this west versus east war scene.

What were readily apparently were the soldiers themselves. To the west stood men, both those appearing human and others of avian heritage, in crisp white garb; their armor richly crafted and accented with silver and gold. Wolves too tread amongst the stoic soldiers, seemingly thirsting to begin the battle. Along the front lines, standards were waving in the wind; marking the troops as those rallying under the banner of Zion.

In equal opposition, the banners of Nod flew on the eastern side of the battle field. Unlike Zion’s troops, Nod’s were less orderly. In fact, their ranks were broken into smaller groups, divided by kind. Each was led by a General, all of whom could have passed for human though it was possible that they were far from human. Dressed largely in black, accented in crimson and violet, the troops seemed less than patient at the delay in war. Undead and reanimated, skeletal remains, wights and wraiths; the troops of Nod were a diverse lot. Intermixed in the bunch were dark elves and humans who had sworn their life to the Empire of Nod and were willing to sacrifice their lives for their land.

Even with training and experience, the troops would be little more than men lined up to die without the efforts of a Commander to lead them; so it was that at the head of either army stood this commanding officer, and their right hand. In the case of Zion, the commanding staff was represented by three angels; glorious in their appearance with pure white wings. The man in the center was recognizable, one known to the dreamer well enough to put a name to the face. Grey skinned and sapphire eyed, the angel in command of the Zionite army was none other than Gideon.

This would be no surprise for the dreamer, as the land of Zion had been founded once again, with Gideon lifting its banner. To many on the opposing side, Zion’s newest rise was as laughable as any of its prior attempts. None could lead the land without Magnus’s hand in the mix, and everyone knew that Magnus was locked in the NeverWhere, battling to keep Cain locked away. This dream insinuated otherwise; that Zion might actually prosper under the angel’s reign.

On the other side of the battle field, Nod’s apparent Commander stood with only one right hand. Long had the Shadowlord told his daughter, Destiny, that she would rule Nod one day, and there she stood before the proud and vicious army; the ranks doubled by her own hand, having excelled at her lessons and risen gloriously high in the powers of necromancy. Seemingly ignoring the masses behind her, Destiny stood nearly motionless at the head of her people, her only movement coming from the acidic winds blowing her still lengthy blonde hair about her torso.

At her side stood a dark companion, one she had bonded within in her youth. The irony of the relationship was that some would blame him for the corruption of the girl; but who could truly deny the roots of evil that had existed within her since her conception? Destiny was no Child of the Light, soiled by the touch of a man… even one as twisted in beliefs as he. Rather it was built upon a complimentary nature, with this Saint of Evil withdrawing the veil of innocence from before her eyes.

To the dreamer’s eye, the war would not yet unfold nor would it near its climatic ending; the future would remain shielded from her eyes. However as she began to rise from the depths of the dream, the playing field unfolded further.

Literal to a degree, the battlefield did indeed appear to be a board upon which a game would be played. Her eye could even make out the pale lines that marked off each square, and the importance of each unit on either side.

More peculiar were those that sat up on high, overlooking this battlefield. Their appearances were known from the many tapestries that were portrayed in temples across Havenlore. Extending his hand, Magnus reached for Gideon; but his eyes lingered across the ‘board’ toward his opponent: Cain.

Upon awakening, the dream would linger only for a moment before the memory of it began to fade away, much like fog under the brutal glare of the morning sun.

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+ Approximately Five Years Ago
+ Phent, Empire of Nod

Deep within the northeastern reaches of Nod, in the small town of Phent a man strode across the border with a sense of grim determination. Only one article was carried by the man, a book held with care in his right hand. He seemed familiar with the land, and on the same hand an absolute foreigner. No, he didn’t belong in the land of Nod at all, but that was precisely the reason why he chose it.

The residents of Phent went about their daily business. Some tended to the fields, while others carted up merchandise to take to Krell for the seasonal market. Youngsters ran underfoot, screaming and tossing a rugged leather ball around the working adults. Shielded from the sun by a canopy of lush trees sat the town elders, their eyes alert and vibrant. At first the unknown man’s presence went largely unnoticed, but as he made his way through the town, each of the elders lifted their head and fell silent as he approached.

Approaching the group, he asked if they would mind his joining them, using the excuse that he needed some time out of the bright sunlight. Far from being the oldest of the group, but certainly a born leader, one woman cheerfully welcomed the stranger and bid him to take a seat. Initiating a conversation with the man, Dianni sublimely questioned his reasoning for passing through Phent, and where he began his travels. The man’s answers were enigmatic at best, all the while touching the book that he had set on his lap.

Hours crept by, and the conversation long departed from the topic of the newcomer, his voice falling into the rhythm of the elders with ease. He spoke of crops, births and deaths, the changing seasons, the phases of the moon and the might of the Gods with the elders, blending into their circle with ease. When the women announced that supper was prepared, the man rose and turned to another one of the seasoned elders, offering to him the book.

While he spoke not specifically of its importance, he did say that one day it would be much desired by others. The elder was not to risk his life for the book, and that if the fates wished to withdraw it from his presence that it was simply meant to be.

Still unnamed, the stranger stated his farewells to the elders of Phent and turned back upon the path which brought him into town. With the curiosity of children, the elders turned their attention upon the book, but the one in possession of it—a man by the name of Edgar—shook his head and rose from his chair. Before attending to supper, he returned to his home and hid it away, where it would remain for a handful of years.

Years later, after Edgar had passed on and left his worldly possessions to his children, his son was sifting through his father’s belongings. The books were amassed into a crate, which was sent to the national library in the capital city of Neo-Krell. A simple farmer, he cared not for the written word and knew that the library could always have a few more books for the people.

So it came to pass that the most important artifact in all of Havenlore—the one and only Book of Infinity—resided within the borders of Nod for more years than any one person would wish to acknowledge.

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