"All tales collide at some point, in some way. You only need to seek the climax to know where."

- Keeper of Tales La'Gorat T'rusl Fr'Del'Borle

"There are many stories happening at once, do not let your eyes be clouded by one, and one alone."

- Unknown

"To understand the picture, one must understand the various struggles taken."

- Preforiat Gron Retter

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The horizon was bleak and resentful as a lone figure gave it its gaze. Bone trees and ancient arches dotted the surrounding area, almost if one thought enough they could imagine some sort of city though whether it was worthy of being called 'grand' is nigh impossible now. A figure covered in head to toe in strange armor approached the first, silent as a Querret. The approaching figure got down on one knee without words to share, for what needs to be said between master and servant?

The figure nodded, though it did not turn to look, in understanding. "So he even now will be a witness to my actions, very well." The first figure turned from the cliff and slowly whisked itself, and its cloak, deeper among the bone trees and ancient arches as the second rose and followed behind.

Together they walked as broken arches and bone trees led to a blank slate of flat stone as far as one could see. There were no trees or arches to guide them, but need them they did not for their path was clear. They walked upon the flat stone carving their mark step by step on its canvas making their own image. Eventually, the place they came from fell from view, on and on they walked their destination set. Foliage came, and still, they walked. They walked until a great fort came into view, and they entered, the fort gleeful at his return. Armored warriors saluted the figure and his shadow as he walked by and up the steps as corspes burned with faces of fear were placed into the ground seeing the dark light for the last time. Once inside, the figure walked to the end of the hall and sat upon its throne for the first time in many an age. The old king had come to deliver once more.

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"Are the terms agreeable?"

A hooded figure took a piece of paper from the other in this gateway to the dark underbelly reading every line carefully for any hidden loop or implication plausible, after all, it hurt not to be so careful in such company.

The first figure laughed "While I understand your...precautions I can assure you, while we are criminals, breaking a contract or abusing one makes us no better than a common thug."

The second figure hesitated then nodded, having heard ice in the other's tone. It was likely his doings gave some sort of slight he had not intended, though he did hit his reasoning on the mark they were criminals after all. He bent over the table and signed the contract with a quill produced from a hidden pocket inside his robe and handed it back, worrying if he gave any more insult to such a figure the potential consequences once business concluded.

"Very good, very good. I will take this contract back to the guild and begin preparations on our side, thank you for doing business with us good sir."

Taken aback by the sudden change of tone and behavior, the second merely nodded timidly and mumbled something along the lines of 'my pleasure'. It was then the first simply faded away like mist before his very eyes, leaving the sole figure left terrified if he should not keep his end, though he knew he had the required payment. A coward he was, but no fool. It was then the figure left, and once quite a deal away from the location ditched the heavy cloak revealing a disgusting narcissist of a dwarf smiling mad, the fight master of the grand arena. Already the sounds of clinking coins filled his mind, after all the amount of profit to gain was astronomical in comparison to the measly amount he was coughing up for this latest plot, the only worry was it failing and his head going onto a chopping block. Then again, does one really think such a dwarf would consider failure? No, one such as he could hardly see past his belt line, the farthest being the tip of his penis to be exact, then again what would one expect. Not much, one would hope.

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Soon, soon she would be ready to make a move to escape. She had spread enough whispers amongst her fellow prisoners. They knew the risks, that they may die in the arena against her before it was time. They knew if they told they would still die in the arena. They had no hope, but she gave it in whispers. They knew her strength. She fought dozens at a time in waves. She was strong. She could free them. The only question was when. She glanced around the dark room lit by the dim torch as if to just annoy the eyes from sleep.

She saw the gaunt faces she once looked on at disgusted, but now with pity. Before she only saw them as pests underfoot, now she saw them as pitiful children, scared and afraid of the big storm to come. It would be a big storm indeed. They would know the sin they had committed when they captured her, she would tear down the walls and homes and spare only these fellow souls in bonds. Only they were permitted to weather the storm she would bring.

A few of the faces returned her look almost asking 'when'? 'When will we be free?' Her eyes returned their questions with answers, though whether it was enough to keep them content was uncertain. Cestrium had to keep the dim hope alive, there was no other choice if they were to be free. Already she knew the beginning of the new season was coming. Glorious and red it shall be, for this season of harvest will be of not crop, but blood. Blood that will paint the streets and skies, and then they will remember the days when hill giants and giants roamed freely stomping down anything in their path. They will remember the days of the nomadic tribes, and this time they will not forget.

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Blood dripped onto the cobblestone streets as Karl snarled in anger. Once more he was what he thought to be two steps ahead only to really be so far behind it was nigh impossible to see the leader. He began pounding fist after fist in fury into the already pulpified corpse that laid before him. Eventually, his fists from his anger tore through the back leaving gaping holes, though he did not stop. When he did, there was no telling feature to recognize the bastard that inhabited the body before, nor would he be remembered by many.

This display, however, was not enough to curb his anger and he slammed his fist into, and through, a nearby wall as he howled his anger. The beast inside of him was growing stronger. His red eyes once more took in his surroundings of the old abandoned building he stood near, and the street he stood on. He began walking briskly past the corpses he left in his attack, his cloak seemingly floating behind. He would not be behind for much longer, though whether he swore as such was out of duty or fear of the beast within was unknown.

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Reshiram's frustrations were mounting up exponentially, from worries about his return to dealing with a certain skeleton, to watching as his own people slaughter each other for power. He was growing weary, whether from age or the eternal cycle of peace and war it was unclear. The only relief he had was strangely teaching a certain problematic skeleton magic, though it was likely due to the elgasia such hobbyistic relief came.

"Now feel it from your core, it will slowly permeate the air around you as if ice is slowly encasing you where you stand." Of course, it definitely helped when said skeleton could actually understand and hold a basic conversation finally after nearly a year of effort. A year, Reshiram was surprised how fast it had gone. He had long lost a sense of time's passage, but ever since this skeleton was bought at the auction he felt it. He couldn't really imagine how this year would have gone without the skeleton's antics, though in truth that was a lie since the very thing he claims he couldn't imagine not dealing with would be the very thing he wouldn't be dealing with.

The skeleton was sitting on the floor, legs crossed and its arms draped along its sides to the floor as blue light glowed from the elgasia, a sign that the efforts were finally succeeding. "Good, now grasp the ice and carry it around you. Control it, bind it to your will so it will do your bidding." The blue glow of the elgasia intensified as small crystal seeming grew in the air, hovering with a slight waver showing the lack the skeleton had over the spell. "Hold yourself, do not let the magic overcome you. Especially when you have no brain to harbor any distracting thoughts." However, Reshiram truly underestimated this skeleton when it came to distracting thoughts as the image of a butterfly entered its very empty mind causing the spell to fail.

Of course, the mana expelled and not used properly was very unhappy at having nowhere to go, causing the skeleton to be launched from the floor to the wall from the backlash causing Reshiram to sigh, knowing he'd have to fix that later. "Gres! All you had to do was hold the mana! You weren't even channeling! Gres! Gres! Gres!" Though he may be quite talented at watching from the sidelines, after all, those with patience to outwait their opposition often had terrible tempers when things didn't go their way. "This is basic elemental magic! You mastered a communications spell that almost no one has been able to use in a few weeks by Olgarths eye, you infuriating bag of bones!" Reshiram's tirade would go on for some time, though this too was quite standard since anything pertaining to direct control, communication magic excluding, the skeleton was no more talented in than a baby swinging a greatsword.

The skeleton stared at Reshiram, understanding but without reaction. Though it could communicate, it did not mean it held any emotion beyond the curiosity it earned from the time it saw a dragon, though even now it did not know that said dragon was a dragon simply due to the fact it hardly knew any sort of worldly matters let alone any form of zoology.

Reshiram sighed, knowing full well as he did every time he lost his temper zero of what was spoken in those moments held sway with the skeleton. He walked over and sat on a chair. "We're taking a break." He promptly closed his eyes and fell asleep.

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The chains rustled gently from the light breeze ever constant. The tower keeper once more made the climb to the top, opening the door. The keeper grabbed the chains and gray light once more coated them. The keeper performed its daily duty and left, closing the door behind it. The chains rustled still from the light breeze, but slowly growing in movement from an unseen force. The links clinked and chimed as the pace increased, like a chorus of metal gods, angry at some unknown slight. The sound poured through the tower, causing even the hopeless prisoners the catch notice, though respond they could not. The sole being within the tower that held no reaction was the ever impassive keeper who continued to look from the the slit in its helmet as it winded down the stone staircase to the bottom, where it would keep watch till it was time to climb again.

The moment the keeper reached the bottom, the chains stopped with their song with no explanation as to why, though only the one bound in those chains would know why for in the place of the chains, laughter rang out for a brief moment once more.

Very curious, for many things really.