A splash of icy water struck Budge in the face. The tired, mentally drained orc, thrashed in his chains. He had always hated water, but now he hated it that much more. Every fifteen minutes, the lich lord would cast a sleep spell on the poor creature, and than send a deluge spell to awaken him. After the fifth time, Budge began to panic and sob.

"Please, no water! Budge hate water!" The orc cried, dripping from head to toe.

Lord Reischerr sat in the corner of the chamber, just near the door. He lifted his hand, waved it once, and Budge was dry again.

"Who is your master?" Lord Resicherr asked, growing tired of the lengthy process.

"Mistress Gonzeelda." Budge mumbled.

With a loud growl, the lich threw a sleeping spell at the orc, sending him back into the unconscious.

"This is taking too long." Reischerr grumbled.

There were easier methods of brainwashing a creature, he knew, but Reischerr wanted to use a natural method. Gonzeelda would recognize a form of mind control if it came from a spell, or even the wicked Bruzella Worm that wrapped itself around the victim's brain. She would, however, never know the difference if Budge came to her like his normal, stupid self.

A light knock came to the wooden door beside the lich. He lifted a finger and drew across the bolt with nothing but his mind.

"Enter." Reischerr spoke, with his raspy, rotted vocal cords.

The door slowly creaked open, and a red cloaked figure poked its head in. Another demon, in service to the liches of the Blood Tomb, Reischerr thought, but no, he recognized this one's scent; it was one he had left as a block of ice—Which could only mean one thing; that the other Liches had returned from their journey in the High Realm.

"Speak." Reischerr muttered, and then stood. "Nevermind. I know. The others have returned."

"Yes, m'lord." The demon said, recoiling when Reischerr walked towards the door.

The lich walked past he demon, then turned back. "Demon, do you know a deluge spell?"

The demon nodded from under his hood.

"Then use it to wake the prisoner in precisely ten minutes. Then ask him who his lord is."

"What should be the answer?" The demon warily asked.

"Lord Reischerr..."

"If it's not."

"Then render him unconscious, and wake him again." Reischerr said.

"I do not know a sleep spell." The demon replied, as it stepped into the cell chamber.

Without turning back, the lich lord said, "Then get... creative."

As the lich left, the door slammed shut, and the two were left alone. He thought for a brief moment, that leaving a living creature with a demon could result in that creature's death, but if the filthy orc were to die, well he would just have to get creative after all.

Lord Reischerr entered the overlook from a cave invisible to the naked eye. He passed through the stalagmites of ice, and stepped before his three brethren.

"I am most pleased to see you all still live." Reischerr said, waving his hands to greet his allies; all of which he knew were superior to him in spell strength, thus, he was always careful, but certainly not afraid.

"Where are the orcs?" The third most powerful, Lord Bennihok asked.

Always the first to speak, always shows weakness, Reischerr thought, then with a sigh nodded. "I have one in the torture chamber as we speak."

"You tend to torture our servants as well." Lord Kelliko said; being the second most powerful, his words put forth a strength that almost had Reischerr back on his heels.

"They were of no more use." Reischerr referred to the demons he had iced. "But the orc I have captured, he will be a great asset."

"What good will he do?" Bennihok asked. "He is but a filthy, blood filled mortal! Should he not be our next feast instead of a prisoner?"

"Nay." Kelliko said. "Reischerr thinks he can turn the orc against Gonzeelda, I'm sure. But I do not see the fruition of such an act. Pray tell, what is the purpose little brother?"

Reischerr wanted to throttle his fellow lich. He was not used to being belittled, and was almost willing to die just to attack and do some kind of damage to his 'big' brother.

"Gonzeela is not a foe to be underestimated." Reischerr spoke. "She is calculating, and cold. Now, she has the shards of the Soul Rupture in her possession, and she intends to travel to find the creator of the weapon so that they will restore it."

"And?" Bennihok mocked.

Again, Reischerr bit back his magical abilities. "If we send her orc minion after her, in his nearly natural state, then we can use him as a spy. We can learn what she plans to do exactly, and possibly even how to duplicate the power of such a weapon."

"We don't need duplicates, Lord Reischerr." The most powerful lich finally spoke.

"Lord Legac, you should reconsider your words, for the homunculus is growing in power. Once he reaches his full strength our hold in the High Realm could be loosened, and likely shattered. Soul Rupture pales in comparison to such a might! If we have four, one for each of us."

Kelliko lifted his hand to silence Lord Reischerr. "Only Blood Tomb who have proven themselves will get such a weapon. So shut your mouth before we—"

It was Legac's turn to lift his hand. Kelliko went deadly silent.

"If this plan works..." Legac said, with his tired, ancient tone. "Then Lord Reischerr will have proven himself to have such a weapon in his hands. But until I see reason to have more than one Soul Rupture, then I must insist, Reischerr focuses his energies on the orc prisoner."

"Thank you, Lord Legac." Reischerr said, with a slight bow. "You will not regret allowing me this time."

"I have allowed you nothing." Legac said, turning to the overlook and staring out towards Triden's Gate. "For we will call upon the mercenary."

"You mean, Gus?" Reischerr's mouth fell open. "Do you not think it is too dangerous? He is far more powerful than all of us, and even fought against us in the War of the Ten."

"Do not fret." Legac said, as the wind blew his cloak about. "Gus will fight for whoever is convincing enough; and I have my ways of being most... convincing."

Lord Reischerr was still wary of the plan to involve Gus, the Mercenary; better known as Gus, the Walking God.

***

Angon stared out the window of the Gavin's house all night. He ignored Buster's snoring from the nearby sofa, and the giggling from the other room. When the sun rose, the illuminating trees had blinked out, yet still he could feel the power that they pulsed. No undead would make it into Windale Forest at night, or in the daytime.

Officially bored, Angon stood, his head nearly touching the ceiling. He walked to the sofa and reached down, poking the sleeping dwarf's arm. For a brief moment, the snoring ceased, but Buster remained asleep, and continued to snore again.

"Buster?" Angon asked, poking the sleeper again and again. But this time, Buster didn't respond at all.

With a sigh, Angon stepped towards Gavin's room, but his foot caught on the Hellsmasher hammer and its haft slammed down to the floor.

"Oops." Angon whispered, reaching down and grabbing it.

The hammer began to glow red, and Angon instantly released it. The glow ceased, causing the forge to retreat a step. He hadn't felt a power coming from the Hellsmasher hammer, but yet a power coming from within his own palm. Without an understanding of magic, Angon knew he should not touch the weapon again.

So with that, the forge walked to the Gavin's room and opened the door.

Minnie was sitting up in the bed, naked. She squealed and pulled the bedsheet up, covering her chest. Gavin sat straight up and cried out too. "What's happening?"

"N-nothing!" Angon stammered and quickly left the room, not knowing what he had just seen. Gavin and Minnie looked quite different from the waist up, despite both being elves. He didn't understand, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Instead of sticking around until the Gavin could come out and yell at him, Angon walked out the front door, shutting it carefully behind him.

The sun was shining bright through the canopy, and different shades of elves walked around the walkways. As the forge walked along, every one of the pointy-eared humanoids stopped to stare at Angon, who noticed many of them dressed in the same style of clothing; stuff made from leaves and tree bark, not leaving too much to the imagination.

"What are you?" An elven child of no more than three heads tall, asked.

"Oh." Angon said. "I am a forge."

"Mommy." The elf boy said, looking at the woman beside him. "I want to ride the forge."

"Bello!" She hissed, setting down her bags and placing her hands on her hips. "Don't be so rude. This is Lady Lavina's friend! He isn't a honkmule!"

Angon found the request so strange, he didn't mind complying.

"I will allow him a ride on my shoulder." Angon grinned at the woman and child.

"If you're sure..." The mother said.

"Yay!" The boy cheered, as Angon kneeled and allowed the boy to climb aboard.

The boy continued to cheer as Angon paraded around the town circle. Soon, more elven children were asking to ride. Moments later, the forge had a child on each shoulder, and two in each arm, with more begging to climb aboard.

Angon laughed. "The more the merrier!"

The children grabbed his legs and hung on as he continued his crazy dance. For the first time since Angon had awoken, he felt like he had a purpose. It was to make others laugh and be happy; for it was his favorite sound of all things—Except one.

"Angon!" Lavina calledout.

The forge stopped his dance and turned to face his half-elven friend.

Today, she looked different. She wore a long dress made of various plant leaves and flowers. It hung nearly to her feet, and left her shoulders bare. To top that off, she seemed to be wearing paint on her face. She wore gold around her eyes, and violet on her lips. Her cheeks were pink, and she even had multiple earrings in each of her tall ears.

Angon wasn't sure why, but she looked even more beautiful like this.

"Lavina." Angon whispered, in total awe.

"Come on children." An elven mother rushed over and started ushering them down from the forge's arms and shoulders, until they were all gone.

Lavina held her hands clasped behind her back and twisted from side to side. Although she was smiling, Angon could see a sad smile behind her eyes.

"What is it?" Angon asked. "Something troubles you."

"First I want to make sure you are okay." Lavina said. "And prepared for the journey north."

"I am." Angon said. "Once we speak to the Wise Ones."

Lavina nodded, and rocked on the balls of her feet. "Angon, I'm afraid I have to tell you some bad news."

Inside the forge's chest, his gears tightened. He didn't want to hear what she had to say, but at the same time, he knew he needed to.

"I'm afraid that I can't come with you on your journey to find your creator."

"What?" Angon gasped, that tightness turning to a sharp pain. "Why not?"

"Because... well I am to be married." Lavina said, looking off to her side.

"What does that mean?" He gasped. "I don't understand?"

"Well, see, it's a ceremony where two people are bonded to be together forever. And my father gave me a choice of who I wanted to marry."

"And you didn't choose me?" Angon asked, stunned.

Lavina was stunned by his words as well, but she shook her head.

"No, I have chosen my crush; Daneel. Angon, aren't you happy for me?"

At that moment, the forge was anything but happy.