Toby grinned softly at Azi. He could see why Crispian thought so highly of this young lady. "Aye, and either she'll throw him down with us, or herself. Either way, Cris isn't going to execute her, that's for sure. He's waited for his." He shook his head and let loose a single, sharp chuckle. "He's been saying for a couple months now that she'd come around.


"I wish I had been able to put more question," he said in a voice suddenly distant. "He must have known more." His eyes grew faint and removed, as though not seeing those around him any longer. "But ye know, they've both got the stuff, those two. The ol' Scratch has lost his mark on 'em both now."


He blinked a couple times quickly. "The Darkness will be moving from the Bearded region soon. We should make them ready to ride."

"I know," Azi said looking toward the mountains, "since the day I met Arcalan I knew she had something evil about her, though I never had any action or proof to back it up. It's been so frustrating, and now I wish I had accused her anyway.." Azi sighed and turned back to Tobyas.


"I'm prepared to face what ever wrath comes our way now." She nodded, "Let's get them ready."

His eyes returning more to the here and now, Tobyas smirked at Azi, shaking his head slightly. "ou're sensitive to them, you know that? Others aren't." Again he got that look, like he was seeing something more than Azi as he looked at her. "ou've paid your ransom, Azi. I think this go around, you're just there to help." As the strange look blended back to the familiar, friendly, worldly face of Toby, Azi was not sure exactly what he meant but caught a sense of it.


"It's good that you know they're here," he said quietly as they stepped back toward the weigh station. "For all too often others don't even know."

"Tobyas," Azi put a hand on the cleric's arm and he turned to meet her eyes. She looked into them, bright and green, calm and deep. "Tobyas," she frowned, "What are you talking about? Sensitive to them? Who?"

Gazing into his eyes, Azi noticed the subtle change, like a veil drawing between them, but opaque. The calmness, the depth - they were still there, but the brightness took on a different tone, almost a suffusing light rather than one restricted to just the eyes as origin.


As she put the question to him, he saw it. He had discussed it with Camlin, hoping the older cleric could aid him in placing it, but the closest he could come was a sense of the "other" about someone. It was as if, at times very intensly, he saw not the person standing before them, but a summation of them and their standing. He tried to describe it, to quantify. But he always came up short.


He saw Azi that way now, that "otherness" envoloping her in a nimbus of pulsing light almost aquamarine in color. "There are those who can't be touched by them, those of the Kingdom, those who are Unsaved. And there are those who don't even know they are here, Azaeli. But you," he favored her with a genuine smile, a smile of joy and pride, "you sense them, react to them."


Again, there was that moment as his eyes seemed to return to proper focus and seeing. "our papa was right. In a way, you are an angel."

Azi would have laughed, would have called him ridiculous. But it was not a jest. His face was sober and serious, and her heart was pounding as if it would jump forth from her chest. She swallowed and tried to think of a way to respond, but moments of her life flashed before her. Moments when she had felt the pure good and pure evil in people, but was never able to say exactly how she knew it to be so. Was this what Tobyas was referring to? She felt her face blush warm and flicked her eyes away from his.


"Well," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "It's for Pappa I shall aid in this battle. I pray that we come out of it victorious." She turned back toward the weigh station. She wanted to ask what he'd meant about her being an angel in a way, but decided to leave it at that. She hoped he'd sense her embarassment at the compliment and leave it there.

Toby watched her turn and head back in. With a smile, he followed. She was a rare person, one whose total was so much greater than the sum of her parts and deeds. He knew she may never fully sense that, or even be aware of it. He watched how she moved, as though all about were attendent to her in some way, but without calling any sense of that to her.


He would be proud to see her in battle again, especially the one that was shaping up to be.

"So, the wicked tongue speaks...where is your conviction now foul witch? where is your cunning deviant mind now? where is your sheer bravado an hatred at anyone who would dare stand up against ye?" Movin Jashen aside easily all his anger bent upon this worthless piece of flesh an manure, he fumed an spit vile hatred fer her from his eyes. Hoverin over her pitiful form, her hands wringin with a desire ta die, his right hand found her throat as he hoisted her up off the floor easily with his one powerful hand an arm, her legs danglin helplessly with nae even the strenth ta flail.


"Tell me witch," bringin her tearstained an red face close ta his, "Tell me...if ae slowly close me hand aroun yer neck," closin his hand jes enough ta make his point tha he could snap her neck in an instant if he chose ta her eyes bulgin from the pressure, "if ae chose ta do tha, would ye nae scream fer yer life, or flail ta throw me off o ye? Is all yer wrath spent tha ye would die here an now wit nothin but a broken neck ta show fer all o yer twisted an sick manipulations ta our happy House?" Eyein her like he would a dyin bug needin ta be put out o its misery, all the while still holdin her beyond the reach o the floor by the neck, "e would speak Her name ta me now", showin his emotion now an a single tear, "jes ta tear me Heart out even more so I would end yer miserable existence?" Throwin off his feelins o Her then, an quickly becomin even more angered, "ou think I felt not her passin? You think I know nothin? You think me some fool who knows nothin o this world? Well, let me tell ye this witch, I did feel her leave this world! I did feel me Heart give out a tha moment! I did lose someone tha I loved most dear! An jes fer ye mentionin Her name ta me, I could easliy snap yer neck fer it."


Her face turnin blue now as she hung there in the air by his stone hand, he felt his Heart open once more, breakin the torment an chains that wounded and bound it so. It had closed when She passed, chokin the very world from his view, the very air from his lungs. He thought it would n'er open again, but now, why now? it poured open an let loose the Power of the Circle of All.


His Gift took a will o its own, an without Tash knowin it, Aleph, Yod, Uriel himself, the "Winds of Change", the One Who Stands at the Gate of Lost Eden itself sprang ta his Heart an right hand throwin both in the opposite direction with a blindin, pulsin singular whiteness. Tashtego was hurled inta a corner, his right gauntlet almost melted ta slag, where he felt Her one last time in his Heart afore she slipped past the Gates of Eden ta finally be at peace. An he wept one last time fer Her.


Arcalan was violently thrown against the floor, but nae hurt. The singular whiteness touched her, it mended her crushed trachea, it enveloped her, its cleansin powers, the Gift of the Archangel Uriel himself, worked inta her very soul. She saw before her a new Path...the Gate standin solid upon the Middle Pillar of the Tree of Life shinin pure blindin white...The Circle opened ta her showin her the only true Path ta Power, a Power tha could be shared unlike the Power o the Underworld an all thins Evil...a Power tha she could have without needless death required...a Power ta throw Evil from the World of Man...


A singular voice echoed forth from nowhere, everywhere, in the corner, up in the rafters, a voice both male an female, a voice tha issued forth Power in its very words, for all ta hear. "Arcalan, Ye were once a Pawn in a Scheme ta let loose the Fallen One Himself upon the World of Man. Now stands before You a New Path. The very Power You wished to Destroy, offers You a Power and Happiness than You have never known, but have Always sought. Your Destiny is at Hand Arcalan. Choose it well, and You will be granted Passage past My Gate. Your Part in this is Not done yet. Fight for the Kingdom of Man and the Will of God and be Forgiven. Forgiveness is Mine to give, and I Offer it to You if You would but Ask it. Answer now Arcalan Hemlos, Daughter of Mankind."


The room went quiet...the Voice faded and all who stood before its Words and beautiful but frightneningly powerful Voice trembled in awe at the presence of It. And so a new Path was laid before Arcalan...the band that came here ta lend their aid against the whole of the Kingdom of Evil, wavin Gods Banner high for the World ta see an march with, all felt His Power wash over them lendin the smallest token o His Power in the Battle tha would surely come ta their doorstep. How all would react now was up ta them...and ta Arcalan...

Bowed and broken, Arcalan had seen the wrath she deserved and the hope of Jashen for her redemption. She had sen Azi master a rage that in Arcalan would have seen blood spilt. It wasn't weakness, it was power. power over oneself, power to choose. Power to make the world change, not bend it to your will, but preserve all that is sacred in it. She had seen a glimpse of Tashtego's Heart, a thing she would have mocked and scorned last eve, humbled, awed her.


The others assembled outside, readying horses for the trip, each one slipping on the silver ring given to them.

Inside remained only Jashen and Arcalan, deep in quiet conversation. He spoke and she nodded, and as he talked more and more she nodded, fresh tears arose and were wiped away. They felt they could barely spare the time, but that this was important.

Outside the cool wind brushed the face of Tashtego. A white, bright calm soothed the earlier heat of his Gift. Azaeli and Tobyas stood to either side of Crispian, who's far off gaze told them of the memories Barfog held for him. Azaeli felt a terrible chill pass through her, no longer doubting that sensation. Yardo was knelt in prayer, his usually jovial voice even more potent in it's stillness and humility.


Eventually Arcalan and Jashen emerged. Her head was bowed, and her voice totally devoid of the pomp and self importance it had always held. She said simply "I am ready."


__________________________


By the shore the light of day had bathed the land, the first morning of his return. He reveled in his new form, in it's strength and it's perfection.

As the hour climbed to noon he saw a party of people in white cloaks approach him. He stood abosrbing all that this new land had to offer up to him, sucking the soul of the place and it's memories. As they came nearer he regarded them with more thought. A starnge group, composed as they were of all the realms. A Dwarf and Firbolg stood near each other, without bloodshed. Their leader, a Celtic man, addressed Astaroth from a distance off.


"Demon! Evil one who's name has been passed down among us for centuries, we are here to drive you back to the regions of hell from which you came. The things that foretold your arrival have come to pass, but the races of the world did not stand idle while you brooded afar! Prepare to meet your doom, you black and vile monster!"

Thus speaking the group drew their weapons, readied staffs and bows, and laid seige to the Vessel.


Blow after blow from darting sword or giant spear were turned aside by the blade Astaroth weilded. Spells lit up the air aroun him, but he shrugged them off as a man shrugs off insects.

"Pitiful mortals, did you think a lifetime of training would prepare you for me?" Their courage faltered as Astaroth brought down his blade and made two halves where one man had stood. The blade leapt like a living thing, parrying blow after blow from the white clad brotherhood, and Astaroth called forth a great magic to consume the mages of the band. Their garments were spattered with blood as holes in their flesh as wide as a fist appeared, and torrents of their life-blod gushed away.

Soon only half their number still stood, fearful but grimly determined. As their strokes tired his grew more playful, for his was a strength not born of muscle, but of purest will. His cruel laugh rang out as he knocked the weapon from a dwarfs hands.

"This game has grown dull" he said matter of factly, and a horrible roar was heard from within his visor. The breath of Astaroth was green and putrid, filling the air with pestilent clouds. Those few soldiers who had still stood ran from the poisonous miasma, their eyes milky and bling, their throats dissolving in it's acidic grasp. Sores and boils errupted on the flesh an elf, and he staggered only a few feet away before falling to the ground and gurgling his last.


The white and blood-red cloaks were spread across the ground, and Astaroth trod on the disfigured corpses as he made his way further up the hill. This world was his, and neither Heaven nor Hell, nor mortal hand would win it back from him!

Azi's eyes met Arcalan's as she and Jashen came out to join them. She saw sorrow there, so much that it panged her own heart. She looked away to the woods before she could think to comfort Arcalan with so much as a reassuring smile.


It was then that she saw it, a movement along the treeline in the corner of her eye. She squinted up into the shadows just in time to see a billow of robes or a cloak flap from behind a large bush. She stepped away from the group and uphill toward the treeline. It was a strange sensation, a sort of warm nudge that she followed, and very familiar.


"Ayslyn?" she called softly, looking into the shadowy bush. It was possible, after all. The elf had a knack for showing up precisely at the right moment. "If it is you, you're aid is needed. We're making ready to end this now." She scanned the shadows once more and then turned her gaze to the station where Tobyas and Tashtego looked up at her inquisitively.