Web Of Life 1-4

Web of Life 1

Chapter One: Azariel and Makio. Brothers, Opposites. 2

Brother, I am sorry 3

I bless your heart, and curse your soul 4

I am the dark, and He is the light 5

Please forgive me, brother, 6

For I must go now, I am sorry 7

The dark and light shall clash 8

All shall become nothing, and nothing shall be all 9

Brother, I am sorry, I am the Dark, and He is the light 10

Azariel, the youth born into a position he neither wanted, nor told anyone about, was one day sitting, speaking with his half-brother, Makio, the boy born with many wings of pure white. Azariel and his half-brother were as contrasted as black and white. The scholars, in fact, used a simple analogy to show the contrast between the two: ‘Azariel is to black and darkness, as Makio is to white and holiness.’ This, not surprisingly, was a perfect analogy. 11

Azariel dressed in black robes, with a white tunic underneath, while Makio dressed in white robes with a tunic of black underneath. Azariel’s eyes shone brilliant, blood red, while Makio’s were a beautiful creamy white. Azariel was pale and ashen bodied because of his dislike and fear of sun, while Makio was deeply tanned from his many hours sitting under the sun. He seemed to never get the illness they called ‘sun blisters,’ the pale orange dots that affected so many of the other children. Nor was he ever affected by ‘burns of the sun,’ those patches of scorching skin so many children got after too much time in the sun. Azariel, not being ever in the sun, knew not of these ‘afflictions.’ 12

Azariel and Makio sat one day outside on a half shadowed half sunny rock. This rock was put under the spell of the HighWizard Magius. Azariel, of course, sat on the shadowed half of the rock, Makio of the sunny. They were speaking quietly to each other, both uncomfortable with each other, because of the incredible oppositeness. “Azariel, when is it that you actually will tell the village of your pyrotechnic magick?” Makio asked, whispering. 13

“Never, Makio, never. The world will never know; they never deserve to. If the world does find out, do you know who the first to die will be? I bet you do…it’s you. Anyone ever finds out and I will seek you out with such a passion the world will burn over doubly.” 14

Makio, being the younger brother, fell hook, line, and sinker for these threats. He began whimpering slightly, but regained his composure. “Brother, I do not care for your threats, nor do they scare me. You are weak, and I am not. They say I am the light, and light banishes away darkness, what they say you are.” Makio let out a cocky little laugh, proud of his intelligence, something he was always known for. He ran off, mocking Azariel, into the sun. 15

Azariel let out a small roar, and enveloped himself in flames, disappearing. Makio shrugged and flew off towards his own home. When he came upon his home, Makio went inside, and went to his mother. “M’ma, I have something to tell you!” 16

“What is it, me dear Makio?” his mother said, slightly annoyed; this was not a great time, for she was reaching the most difficult step of a recipe.17

“Well, M’ma, Azariel is a master of pyrotechnical magicks.” Makio smiled, and began to scheme even more about how to wreck Azariel’s life, something he strived to do. 18

“Yes, sure. I believe you, Makio, go play now.” 19

“M’ma, I am not lying. Let me relay an image to your mind.” Makio took his mother’s hand and sent an image to her brain of Azariel’s disappearing tricks, and her mother gasped; she knew that Makio could not change these images. 20

Makio’s mother ran out of the house, to the town square, and called for an announcement, where she promptly revealed Azariel’s magical secret. As Azariel brewed in hatred, he plotted the many painful ways to kill Makio. Azariel stomped off into the forest, the deepest, most shaded part of the forest, and sat, steaming with anger. This is where he stayed for millennia, only aging slightly, in a stasis as time around him flowed on as normal. The forest he was in expanded greatly and in time became known as the Infernal Planes of Hell. 21

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Azariel became known as the Demon Lord Azariel, head of all evil and the leader of the Infernal Planes.   23

Makio, when he died, spent time in Pleasantries of Heaven, and after a good deal of time, became ArchAngel Makio of the Pleasantries, Herald and bringer of good. The two brothers now fought at every chance and hated each other with such a passion that it was felt on the Earth as though it were booming thunder. 24

(Chapter two starts here)25

Chapter 2: Alchemist of Power, Kahlin 26

Alchemy, Magick so strong, 27

Power of herbs, power of leaves 28

Come to me, potent Magick, 29

Potions, Powers, Spells, and Salves 30

Alchemy, Magick of Ancients, 31

Twelve Masters, they unite 32

When met, all together, a Force no greater found, 33

They are the Alchemists, Mages of the Land. 34

One day, ages ago, a young man by the name of Kahlin, destined for greatness, studied with the many Mages of Alchemy, in his local Academy headed up by one of the Twelve Masters. Kahlin was a curious, intelligent, powerful boy for his slight seventeen years. Kahlin had already mastered the creation of simple cures, such as boiled Acanthus root, steeped Carnativa leaves, others Alchemical mixtures like that. He was decent with a few explosives, such as Holly bombs, Snap roots, and a few others. He could not, however, for the life of him, work up a Bleeding Bloodroot Sap, a mixture of Bloodroot leaves, steeped, blood from the maker and victim, Explosive Sap, and a few other rare ingredients, which, when mixed, created a pasty sap that would cause gaping, bleeding flesh wounds to appear on the victim. 35

Not something most would want to make, you would think, but young Kahlin wanted, no, needed revenge. A young woman by the name of Annilei (Anna-lay), another student at the Academy, had poured Flaming Itch serum into his Final’s mixture, and the Head of the School, one of the Twelve Master’s, was the tester for the Final’s. After Kahlin’s mixture had been received, and drunken, Kahlin was put on demerit for a month and a half, shunned by every member of the Magick community, and the Bloodroot Sap seemed the most fitting revenge. 36

Kahlin worked countless hours and days, but to no avail. He had finally given up on the vengeful project, and set off on a new topic: raising himself to the level of High Chemist. High Chemist’s were second rank in the Alchemical community, under the Twelve Masters. Kahlin knew that he would never reach the Master Rank, so set his bar a level below, and was well on his way at age seventeen. Kahlin, by this time, had devoted his life to studies and work, thus leaving all friends, and thoughts of revenge, behind. 37

Kahlin worked day and night at the requirements for the High Chemist rank, among which were mastering the Book’s of Alchemy 1-5, of which he had mastered three of. He had already taken the initiation oaths and ceremonies, and finished reading the entire Charini, the first Alchemical book written, it was huge, over three thousand pages long. It had taken him two weeks to complete, while doing nothing else. 38

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Kahlin had been elevated to the High Chemist level after seven years of training. Now, at the age of twenty-four, he was the young High Chemist in History. ‘Abr Harchrunim du Wyrda’ or, ‘The Dominance of Fate’ said that the next youngest of the rank was Mari Culimina, at the age of thirty-three. 40

Kahlin felt such an insane degree of accomplishment that be boasted his position for the next five years. While the bragging years passed, he trained under direct contact with Five of the Twelve Masters of Alchemy. During his training, he had mastered the Bleeding Bloodroot Sap, along with many hundreds of other mixtures. 41

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Another year had passed, and Kahlin was beginning to realize his ultimate goal…an Alchemical Meet was in less than a month, and a woman named Annilei was said to be an attendee. Kahlin jumped at this chance, and began to stock up on every ingredient possible. When he had exhausted his life’s earnings, he stored them, and then, in another week, went to the Meet. 43

Kahlin announced a public duel with Annilei as the opener to the Alchemical Meet, and was then scheduled to duel her at the very beginning of the Meet, before it truly began. The winner of the duel would be given a number of secret recipes from the Master Micheli. The High Chemist knew this a perfect chance to not only humiliate the one he spent so long trying to, and failed, but learn these new recipes for the brews; they were almost definitely incredibly powerful. 44

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Annilei and Kahlin entered the dueling arena, and began to mix a first brew. Kahlin opened with a Bash Bean Brew, a simple yet painful concoction of Nitro powder, Bash Bean, and other reactive chemicals. This caused a bit of commotion, erupting Annilei’s Massacre Blast into her own face, singing her hair, and scorching her face. While Annilei groped about in pain, Kahlin quickly worked up a brew of his own invention, called Death Serenade. He poured this thick paste on his opponent’s feet, causing Shadow Mites, small bugs made of shadow, to crawl up her legs, devouring as they went. 46

Kahlin had forgotten one simple rule…this wasn’t a fight to the death. This was simply an incapacitation match. When Annilei was no more from the Death Serenade, Kahlin received mixed emotions. They thought him brilliant, yet a murderer, a legend, yet a menace. No authorities’ could decide whether to hail Kahlin, or throw him in jail for manslaughter, so Kahlin quickly escaped. 47

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A few years passed, with Kahlin in hiding, and the Alchemical Meet conundrum blew away, forgotten. Kahlin returned to his life, all the more intelligent and skilled from his hermitage, and studied for months, soon being elevated farther than he thought possible for himself, since one of the Masters had died…Kahlin was the Twelfth Master of Alchemy. Kahlin left his home city for years to travel and learn. 49

(Chapter Three)50

Chapter 3: Narila, HalfBreed SwordsMan. 51

Dragons, Creatures of Might 52

Flying high on ancient wing, 53

Humans, Creatures of wisdom 54

Technology so great, 55

Two breeds into one 56

Power hidden in a single member, 57

Special unto them 58

Prized for his skill, 59

Narila, SwordsMaster, HalfBreed, 60

Stuck in between the Human, the Dragon. 61

Narila was a Master SwordsMan of his clan, and a special member for other reasons as well. His clan is prized for their Dragon training and riding, yet he was born with the ability to change into a Dragon. This alone made Narila a very valuable member of his clan, not taking into account his natural mastery of Swordsmanship. 62

During a squabble with a WitchMother of another clan, Narila was cursed while changing shape, and forced into being stuck between his Dragon state and Human form. For this, he was thought to be an even greater power for his clan, and was the central power of his army. Narila loved the thought of that…’his army.’ 63

Sitting quietly in the Mercenary’s Keep in the village, Narila waited for the announcement of war to come; he knew it would any moment now. He stood from his seat and picked his crescent blade up off the ground. Narila spent a few seconds cleaning, dusting, shining, polishing, and sharpening his beloved sword, which he called Draconia. He stepped out of the Keep, and looked about the small clan village. 64

From a mile and a half away, the war cries of an approaching tribe sounded, reverberating off of the canyon protecting Narila’s own clan. He called the warriors of the village to his side, and all came, for once. They wielded many various weapons, a number of them holding two. Many women also came to help, wielding frying pans, broomsticks with their ends sharpened like spears, whatever could be found. A number of small children also held rocks and slingshots, clubs of wood, and other things they could use. 65

Narila set out first, ahead of the others, his crescent blade held high, ready to shed the blood of his enemies. Narila always had a serious blood lust and was not satiated until he had shed an army’s worth; he would get that chance now. 66

Narila sped his pace, and reached the opposing forces within a minute. He lifted his blade in front of him, and drove through the first line unmatched. The second was more skilled, but still only a minute challenge. The third increased again, and Narila backed off, speeding back to his own clan’s lines. “Forward!” he screamed forcefully, and the entire troop marched on to meet the enemies. 67

The two armies met in a clash of sword and shield, makeshift tool against makeshift tool, and Narila’s side slightly overpowered. Narila began wiping out commanders, using strength and every weapon available to him to rip through foes. The many children were actually a rather large help to Narila, because their stones knocked many an enemy unconscious, and killed a few of them from impact. 68

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After a number of hours, the war had finished, and Narila marched, exhausted, back to his own home, savoring the adrenaline rush from the battle, along with the blood dripping from every part of his body from the senseless beatings he had given out. 70

Narila entered his own home, and sat on the bed, remotely annoyed. He had lost more people than he had wished in that battle, as well as a top ranks Shaman of the tribe. This Shaman was the one most capable of anchoring a dead soul back in its own body, thus restoring life. 71

Not having this Shaman gave Narila no confidence, but did convince him to leave his clan and travel on his own. ‘But first,’ he thought, ‘I must get sleep and food.’ Narila fell backwards, nearly unconscious, asleep. 72

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When he awoke, his stomach was roaring, so Narila headed off to the Mess tent, where he ate voraciously. When he had finished his meal, he quickly walked back to his own home. In his hut, he grabbed his trusty sword, and then took off, leaving his clan village for good. 74

(Chapter 4)75

Chapter 4: Charlantiel and the Vampyres of the Forgotten Flame76

Vampyre, Demon of the Night 77

Blood dripping from ivory fangs 78

Sun dawns upon the world, 79

Glinting off the mad teeth 80

The Vampyre scampers, 81

Burning from the light 82

Light of the Sun. 83

The Sun that is Desamarios. 84

Charlantiel Mercutio, in his living life, was an ordinary man. He lived for working in the Temple to Desamarios. Desamarios was the God of the Sun and of Fire. Charlantiel was a personal servant, one of seven, to the High Priest of Desamarios. 85

Each day was horribly routine. The morning started with the Lighting of the Cleansing Flames of Desamarios, then came the Praise of the Rising Sun which lasted an hour, proceeded by the Preaching of the High Priest to the peasants, and the Warming of Homes performed by the Priest, who was known as Isaaru only to the Seven. 86

All of High Priest Isaaru’s Seven Devoted Servants were, as their title denoted, devoted to serving their master, and their master’s master. The Seven Servants consisted of Charlantiel, Bradisen, Comil, Grarien, Sararchos, Deom, and Ara.  Charlantiel was the top-ranking of the servants, while Sararchos was at the bottom of the Order. Charlantiel led the service for the Rising, Comil led the Risen, Grarien led the Full Sun, Bradisen led the Setting, Deom led the Waning Sun, Ara led the Dusk Service, and Sararchos finished the day with the Moon Service. This led to a full day of preparation and wait for all of the Seven, and incredible worry on the part of High Priest Isaaru. 87

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Charlantiel awoke with a start one morning, and realized it was the Anniversary of his Eighth Year in Service. He knew he was destined to do something on this day, something out of the ordinary, but knew not what that something was. As he dressed and prepared for the Rising Service, he shrugged off the feeling of foreboding, and decided it best to let the day pass without another thought about the prediction of his future. 89

Charlantiel performed his Service as usual, then quickly strolled to the Cleansing Flames, and found no one there. He let out an evil grin, and removed a small glass vial from his robes, pulling the stopper out. “Morchis Lumen!” he shouted, and the Cleansing Flames floated slowly and gently into the vial. Charlantiel replaced the stopper, and said, “I win.” The temple began to rattle for a moment, and Charlantiel frowned, turning to run from the Temple. When he reached the door, a tall, imposing figure met him. “Master Isaaru! What are you doing here? I found a young peasant escaping with the Flame, but could not catch him in time. I am sorry I have failed you, Master.” He bowed his head in regret. 90

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Hours later, after much talking between the Seven, and the High Priest Isaaru, it was decided that the entirety of the Seven, because of Charlantiel’s blaming them, would be placed under a curse for eternity. The theft of the flame was considered highest priority within the Church of Desamarios, so great procedures must be taken. 92

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Only days later, a ceremony was held in the catacombs of the castle, Isaaru presiding, of course. Charlantiel and the Seven stood within a large circle of blood spilt from them, all of their wrists bound by snakes. The punishment for this theft was chosen. The Seven would be placed under a Vampyrism curse, belittled to the foulest creatures in society. Charlantiel agreed it fitting, and complained naught, though all of the Seven others did constantly. The ceremony began, and went by quickly for Charlantiel, who simply dazed out during it, though the screams of the others were still audible in his ears, ringing wonderfully. 94

The ceremony lasted throughout the night, and once it was finished, the Seven were banished away from the Temple for eternity. Isaaru let out warnings to the people of Seven Vampyres of the Flame, but they paid no heed, they were much too worried about the Cleansing Flames which disappeared with Charlantiel, and could not be found anywhere. 95

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Centuries passed, and the Vampyres became known as the Seven Vampyres of the Forgotten Flame as Desamarios’ followers became fewer and fewer, and soon became nothing more than a cult of a very few members. The Seven reeked havoc upon the innocent world only to stay alive, for many years, then turned their feedings and lust for blood to a simple game of ‘who can kill more?’ Charlantiel was winning in this contest, until the other Six simply disappeared, seen no more, so he himself simply kept about feeding to survive, and surviving to feed. 97