Ramses sat on his throne, pondering deeply about the future to come, knowing deep within his heart that a confrontation was headed directly for him; a clash of swords, sprays of blood and only one person left standing. He couldn't see the mysterious figure that was coming for him, nor could he see who would be the clear victor, but he was certain that a storm was brewing and the battle coming with it would be his hardest since his duel with the former Grandmaster of the Knights of Solamnia, Tristan. Calming himself and trying to clear his mind, he relaxed in his throne, trying to silence all the noise going on around him so he could focus his mind on happier thoughts. A slight grin spread over his lips as he finally found a measure of peace in his mind: Marcus.

Marcus had grown so much over these last few years, changing from a small boy to a young man ready to face the world with a stern look and a strong step forward each day. Ramses couldn't have imagined a better son than Marcus and he did his best to be the father that Marcus deserved. He trained him just as well as the knights had trained him to carry a blade and a shield as well as fight as a unit of soldiers with an impregnable defense and unwavering bravery. He educated him as if he were the son of a mage, exposing him to every book he could get his hands on. History, Theory, Philosophy, Mathematics, Scripture, Architecture, War, Biographies, and countless other topics to enlighten his son's mind so that it would always be open and eager to learn. He even passed on his knowledge of how to read and write every language he knew: High Solamnic, Elvish, Draconian, Common, and even some of the dark tongue used by the Clerics of Takhisis that he had picked up from Cassandra. Marcus excelled at everything he had put him through and even exceeded his expectations more often than not when it came to the difficult subjects. When Marcus was determined for success, he never failed and that was a trait that Ramses couldn't have taught him if he tried.

Now that he was a young man, Marcus had finally come to the end of his childhood path and would have to start choosing which roads to take to define his life. War was the only thing much of this generation would know and in that, there were two absolutes: Paladine and Takhisis. Paladine stood at the helm of all the forces standing against Takhisis and her followers and Takhisis did the same for the forces that stood against Paladine. In these absolutes, one will find their path to define them and Ramses knew that Marcus was nearing his decision if he hadn't made it already and that gave him a moment of pause: If Marcus chose anything but to pledge his life to Takhisis and her armies, Takhisis would use his family against him, no matter their loyalty. Takhisis would force Ramses to hunt down his own son and either force him to submit or die....

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Marcus stood tall in the Keep of Palanthas in the line of young men signing up to join the Solamnic Army, all hoping to make it as Knights some day. He shivered slightly as the line shifted forward leaving only two people in front of him before he was to register and get his armor and his military assignment. [/i]Oh father....if you could see me now I don't know what you would think...would you be happy for my decision or would you be disappointed because I have elected to fight against you in this war? You've always told me that whatever I put my mind to I will succeed at....well, I'm determined to become a Knight and ensure that the Knights of Solamnia will return to their former glories rather than fall into ruin and be destroyed by Takhisis...I won't let that happen.[/i]

"NEXT!" Shouted the soldier at the table. Obviously Marcus had been a little too drawn into his thoughts because his tone wasn't very pleasant.

"Sorry, Sir." Marcus said quietly and stepped up to the table.

"Whatever, kid. Name?" The soldier said with a hint of annoyance.

"Marcus....Marcus Fenix." Marcus said, shifting his stance a bit, hoping to gain a bit of respect from the soldier.

"Fenix, eh? Any relation to the Highlord of the Black Dragonarmy?" The soldier said as he scratched the name into the parchment.

"No...no, Sir. None whatsoever." Marcus said, silently cursing himself for the sins he just committed.

"Probably a good thing then....that Ramses is a cold-blooded bastard." The soldier said, practically spitting afterwards. "Alright, Private Fenix, here is your paperwork to be presented to the Master at Arms in the Armory just down that way. He'll get you suited up properly and then direct you to your barracks afterwards."

"Yes, Sir!" Marcus said and gave a salute before taking his paperwork and heading towards the Armory with the soldier sitting at the table shaking his head at him.

"He won't last a week..." The soldier muttered under his breath.

//OOC: For all intensive purposes, considering I was not able to participate, I will be RPing Marcus as being a very minor participant in the attack on Goodbay


Marcus stood at attention with the rest of the guards called to duty in Goodbay for it's defense, not moving a muscle, but was prepare to move like lightning upon being commanded to do so. Inside, he was shaking, not with fear, but with excitement. Here he was, almost 15 years old and standing shoulder to shoulder with warriors hardened by battles that have been going on since before he was born. These veterans bore the scars of countless battles and the faces of unmeasurable experience. All the training he had been given by his father and in the last few months was about to be put to the ultimate test: Was he ready to take a life? Could he live with himself after seeing another being killed next to him? Would he lose himself in a bloodthirsty rage once the first swords clashed? No, he couldn't dwell on the fear. He needed to control it, master it, and direct it to his body so that his training would instantly take over, guiding him like the hand of Paladine.

He had been seeing Dragons for days above the city, great reds circling the city like vultures waiting for the dead to fall and the calm to come down so they could feast. He thanked his father for being who he was in those moments because he had always seen Dragons his entire life, but they were great Black Dragons. Their bodies resembled the dark taint that was brought out from every man's soul when they took their oath to serve Takhisis. It was a hollow black, almost empty and it was terrifying. But these red Dragons...they radiated an aura of hungering malice, just waiting to be ordered to sweep through and kill as many as they could. He could almost feel the fire from their breath enveloping as he thought about it. No sense in denying this thought, he was more likely to be roasted alive by a Dragon than killed by a sword. He'd never faced a Dragon in combat before and he sure as hell didn't want to, but that just wasn't in the plan for today. At least I'll die warm... Marcus chuckled to himself.


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Ramses sat on his throne quietly after returning from Pax Tharkas to deliver the "good news" to Lily. She was granted permission to strike, but depending on the outcome......Ramses chuckled to himself without even thinking about what would happen. The battle will be starting soon...it's a shame the Dragon Emperor didn't permit me the opportunity to participate, but I have duties of my own to attend to that are far more important. Ramses thought while stifling a slight yawn. Whistling sharply for his servant, he ordered a glass of elvish wine to be delivered to his office. The servant bowed and departed as Ramses stood and walked to the east wing of his estate. Every time I walk through this keep, I'm amazed at Lord Diesel's genius for architecture....he certainly had good taste. Ramses thought as he walked towards his office. Going to his armor stand, he pulled off the non-essential pieces to his garb, Gloves, bracers and cloak, and hung them on the stand before sitting down just as his glass of wine arrived. Taking a small sip, he leaned back and put his feet up on the desk and let his mind drift.

His mind first drifted to his son, curious as to how he was faring on his own. Surely he had put on a few more pounds of muscle from walking and fending off the bandits and other monsters while he has been away. No doubt he's grown taller too...I'll bet once he's done growing I'll have to look up to see his face. As he continued to think about what his son was doing, a sudden premonition popped into his head. Nearly spilling his wine, he sat up with a start gasping. Did I fall asleep? Was that a dream? Ramses thought to himself. I saw Dragons flying above and several Palanthian soldiers all around...I felt...shorter... Ramses struggled to recall all he had seen, frustratedly sipping at his wine to try and relax his mind. I must have seen Goodbay from the Knights of Solamnia's position....perhaps a sign that we will have victory this day? Ramses shook his head and set down his glass and rubbed his temples. Who was I seeing this vision from? I get a bad feeling that something bad will happen....I can't put a finger on it.....my gut is just rotting with fear.... Ramses finally gave up on thinking about it and decided to take a nap in his office, hoping maybe he could see more in his dreams. Cassandra had taught him how to harness the power of his mind and travel back through dreams so long as he could keep a focus on them before he fell asleep. Lucid dreaming she had called it....perhaps it would work.

It wasn't long before Ramses was asleep, but this time he was standing there as himself, looking from behind the soldiers instead of with them. He calmly walked through the lines of soldiers searching for something familiar, when suddenly he caught a glimpse of a rather short soldier carrying a curved bastard sword. Marcus! Why is he here in my dream? Is this my unconsciousness playing tricks on me or am I truly seeing what is transpiring? Is Marcus a servant of Paladine? No....it can't be....Takhisis would never stand for the son of a Highlord to betray her and serve with her sworn foes. Takhisis would have him killed! Or worse....she would force me to enact her law upon him....Submit or Die. I couldn't kill my own son....and he couldn't kill his own father....Takhisis would kill us both if that were to happen. Dammit! Why am I being shown this?

Ramses awoke with a start at his final thought, gasping as a loud rapping was heard at his door. "M'lord Fenix. Your scouts have returned." came a voice from beyond the door. "Good, send them in." Ramses said as he smoothed out his hair and grabbed his glass, taking a long drink before setting it down again. The scouts walked in and bowed all at once and their leader stepped forward. "M'lord, you requested that our party return once the battle has started and so we have. The Red Dragon Army has begun it's assault on Goodbay." Ramses nodded a few times. "Good, thank you for the report. See that you and your men get some rest and some food before I give you your next assignment." The scout leader bowed along with his men. "Thank you m'lord. We shall report back when we are summoned." With that, the scouts left Ramses to his own thoughts once again and the haunting truth that lingered beside him. "Marcus....what have you done....Takhisis will never permit this....you have gone against her Will and now the consequences will be sent upon you like a raging storm...I only hope you are strong enough to be able to bear it."

The battle was over and the Knights of Solamnia had won. Marcus had finally gotten his chance to draw his sword and defend his life and belief. Despite the men that he had killed that day, he felt a sense of peace, like he had accomplished something greater than himself. He silently grieved for the men he killed, wishing that they did not have to die, but were instead redeemed even though in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew that once you agree to serve the Dragon Queen, you are a servant for life. That thought made him shiver and he thought of his father and mother. No matter what happened, they could never escape Takhisis' control even if they wanted to. His father, for all his reasons for serving Takhisis, knew that once he agreed to step into her armies, he would die wearing her symbol. It was painful to think that his father would be opposed to him now, despite the fact they were of one bloodline, proving further why he despised war so much. Shaking his head, Marcus simply grabbed his rations in front of him and ate quietly, trying not to think of anything else except that soon he would be heading back to Palanthas.


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Ramses fastened his armor to himself, taking on the necessities with him to maximize his mobility, knowing that the looming conflict would be one of stamina. Marcus...you forced me to do this....Takhisis demands that I end your life and it is now my duty to bring you back either as a soldier in her army or a corpse...I'm sorry son....I wish things didn't have to be this way... Ramses continued to have a sad look upon his face as he dressed himself. His boots were freshly polished and his shield gleamed with the symbol of the five headed dragon upon his back. Fastening his unholy blade to his hip, he gripped the fitted handle gently and sighed. "I need to see Cass before I leave....one of us will survive this fight....the other she must grieve for." Ramses said to himself as he finished dressing and strode out of his office and up to his room. Cassandra was sleeping quietly when he walked in so he carefully moved towards the bed, barely making a sound. He leaned over the bed and brushed back some of her hair and kissed her lightly on the lips, feeling her unconsciously return the kiss and smile as he pulled away. Ramses then reached for the blanket and pulled it up to her chin before he walked out just as silently and closed the door behind him.

Walking out into the field in front of the keep and before the gate, he whistled for his dragon. It was a few short moments and then the sound of heavy wings could be heard as she landed just in front of him. She growled softly at him. "What do you desire at this hour? It is nearly time for rest....and you should be with your mate." Ramses walked to her side and climbed up swiftly "I have an errand to run....I need to visit my son. Fly to Goodbay, but land outside of the city so we do not alert anyone and cause an uproar." He said quietly. "Very well Highlord....if one arrow pierces my wing this night, you can be sure that I will drop you from the sky." Ramses just chuckled softly. "Just promise me one thing...if I'm not back by sunrise, head back here and tell Cassandra I'm not coming home..." Ramses said. "Just what sort of fools errand are you running tonight, Highlord? Trying to redeem the failure of the Reds?" The Dragon roared as she took flight. "No," Ramses said "the Dragon Queen has commanded I do this....my son has betrayed the Black Wing and the Dragon Queen....he must die tonight."

Ramses strode up towards the entrance to Goodbay, the guards getting very nervous about his purpose for being here, drawing the swords and shifting about. I'm not here for you fools....feel lucky that I have my eyes set on one thing and one thing alone... Ramses stopped about fifty paces from the guards and called out in a deep voice that echoed throughout the area. "MARCUS FENIX! I HEREBY CHALLENGE YOU TO AN HONORABLE DUEL! ANSWER MY DUEL OR FOREVER BE BRANDED A COWARD AND HAVE SHAME AND DISHONOR STAINED UPON YOUR NAME!"

[/i] That should do it...[/i]
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Hearing the loud voice echoing through the town, Marcus stood up as his fellow soldiers all looked at him, dumbfounded. Marcus was just as befuddled as the man next to him, but he knew that he must answer the call. Honor was at stake and no matter the outcome he must answer. Should he fall, his father will avenge his death or one of his fellow sword brothers. Grabbing up his sword and shield, he donned his hood and strode off into the night towards the entrance of Goodbay to answer the call.

As he stepped up to the gates two guards turned to him. "You're Marcus?"

"Aye, Marcus Fenix." Marcus responded with a nod.

"Son, I wouldn't blame you for not going out there....this guy rode in on a black dragon and from the look of him, he means business."

"Fear not sword-brother....Est Sularus Oth Mithas. I would rather die an honorable man than live forever as a coward." Marcus replied proudly to the guard.

"It's your funeral....but don't lose. I've got 10 steel that says you win." The guard said as he patted Marcus on the back.

Marcus smiled and nodded as he fastened his shield to his arm and took his sword out of it's sheath as he strode towards the outlined figure in the dark.

"I, Marcus Fenix, answer your challenge sir." Marcus said as he stepped within twenty paces of the man.


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"That's -Lord- to you, boy." Ramses said curtly as he drew his sword from it's sheath, the darkness of Takhisis radiating from it.

"Forgive me then....I answer you challenge Lord." Marcus said calmly "I trust you will obey the honorable rules of dueling then?"

"Only one of us will walk away....put whatever rules you like into this battle, it matters not." Ramses replied as he began to pace back and forth.

"Before this duel begins....I must ask....what is the reason for this duel to the death?" Marcus said quizzically.

"You dishonored your family....you put me in a position that gave me no choice....either I die, or I hunt down my own son and kill him. Someone dies tonight Marcus.....so I would suggest you fight with everything you have because I'm not holding back this time...."

Marcus stared at him incredulously. "Father?! Why? Who commanded this of you? Who claimed that I have dishonored our family?"

"The Dragon Queen....you were born into her service....a service that you only leave in death." Ramses said

"But....you said I had a choice! I could choose to live a life under Paladine, Takhisis or Gilean, that is what you blessed me with father!"

"No Marcus....I blessed you with one thing....determination. You are naturally talented and for that you could do anything, but it is the determination that I drilled into you that will make you succeed in whatever you choose. Now, I suggest you choose whether or not you are determined enough to kill your own father." Ramses muttered coldly

"I cannot strike you down father....we are family and no matter how many sins you have committed, blood is thicker than anything. You deserve to be tried fairly for your crimes, not executed in a duel by your son." Marcus replied, shaking his head.

"You don't know my true power Marcus....I may be a master of the sword, but I carry something that few were ever blessed with carrying. That something is all I need to strike you down in a single blow so I suggest you find some determination or your death will happen shortly after this duel starts." Ramses growled, stopping his pacing and facing Marcus.

"You have called me for a duel and spoken your peace. I am bound by honor to fight you and for the honor of my family I will defeat you father." Marcus said, all emotion devoid from his eyes.

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Rain began to fall from the sky at the end of Marcus' statement, turning the ground to a thick mud and soaking their armor. Marcus drew back his hood as Ramses pulled off his helm and tossed it several feet behind him. Gripping their swords, they each gave one another a solamnic salute and a practiced pause before charging full speed at one another.

Steel crashed against steel as the first lightning bolt hit the ground, shaking the small town as soldiers began to crowd around the entrance to witness the duel between a simple guard and a dragon riding servant of Takhisis. The two swordsman dance around one another, tearing up the terrain beneath their feet as their heavy boots slid and stomped through the wet ground, churning up mud with each step. Sparks flew as their swords met again and again, neither able to gain the upper hand on the other or rather neither was trying. Suddenly, Ramses unleashed a swift kick to Marcus' stomach and sent him into the mud on his back, sliding a few feet.

"Get up...this battle is far from over...I haven't even broken a sweat yet." Ramses spat into the ground towards Marcus.

Climbing up out of the mud, Marcus stood up straight and took a deep breath and then charged Ramses at full speed. Bring his shield up in front of him, Marcus bashed Ramses' shield aside and took a quick upward strike followed by a reverse swing of his shield to block Ramses' counter swing. Shield met sword and they stepped back from one another slightly. Chuckling, Ramses feigned to his left and went right and hooked the back of his shield on the front of Marcus' shield and stripped it off of his arm with a jerk of his arm. Following through with a heavy swing, Marcus blocked it and skidded backwards, nursing his arm from the force of the shield being ripped away.

"You should have already known that technique Marcus....yet for some reason you are never prepared for it....where is your will to fight, boy?" Ramses said, chuckling at him

Marcus stared hard at Ramses, his eyes still devoid of emotion. Jabbing his sword into the ground, he removed his cloak and pauldrons, tossing them behind him. Taking his sword back up, he twirled it around him a few times, adjusting himself to the release of the excess weight. Ramses laughed and charged at him shield first. Marcus quickly switched hands with is sword and met Ramses' shield with a hard punch, driving him backwards while Marcus came up and followed through with a back-swing to catch Ramses' shield with his blade. Being off balance, Ramses knew to release the shield as Marcus met it and countered by spinning low with his blade out.

Marcus knocked the shield out into the mud and lifted up his open leg to avoid the blow before stepping back down to face his father, now both of them on equal standing once more. Ramses chuckled at Marcus and stepped back from him, pacing once more, but his gaze was locked on Marcus.

"I see you have embraced your skills with your sword....perhaps you are determined enough to win, but now you need to learn something else. Do you have a purpose for your determination Marcus or are you fighting for your own survival? Survival instincts aren't enough to defeat me Marcus....I am not a typical warrior of the Dragon Queen." Ramses said coldly.

"What do you mean..." Marcus said, his tone flat and even, expecting a trick of some kind

"I am one of only a handful of select servants to receive a gift from the Dragon Queen that gives me the power to strike down those who serve Paladine and his allies....I am a Black Guard." Ramses said, stopping his pacing once more, looking straight at Marcus.

Marcus didn't change his gaze, he kept his thoughts to himself. A Black Guard? One of the Queen's famous Dragon Riders from the Third Dragon War? How will a dragon help him in a duel?

Ramses held his sword out, his black gauntlet turning a deep red, slowly enveloping his hand. The glow spread down to the middle of his forearm and up to the tip of the blade. The unholy energy was sickening as it emanated from Ramses.

"Do you see Marcus? I have a purpose...and that purpose has given me the power to end the lives of those who stand as mighty beacons in front of Paladine on this mortal plane....without purpose, you have no hope of defeating me Marcus." Ramses said flatly as he strode towards Marcus, bringing his sword in front of him and gripping it with two hands.

Taking a defensive stance, Marcus prepped himself to accept the blow against his sword at any angle. Ramses quickly brought the sword over his head and down against Marcus' blade. The energy slammed into the blade and like an explosion from a mage's fireball, Marcus was thrown backwards into the mud once again. Marcus gasped, his eyes wide from the energy that just struck him. Blood ran down his forehead and through his right eye. Reaching up, he felt a deep gash over his right eye that cut right down to the bone. Taking a deep breath, he moved to stand up. Every muscle in his body ached and it was a struggle to convince himself to stand up. Murmurs came from the soldiers behind him as they all started to step back. Some prayers to Paladine could be heard over the pounding rain and crackling thunder.

"There can be only one Marcus and obviously that one is me....it pains me to think that my son cannot surpass me, but fate has stacked the odds in my favor." Ramses said as the glow once again erupted from his hand and covered his sword.

Marcus charged at Ramses with his sword low, hoping to counter the power of the blade with all his might in an upward swing. Ramses easily dodged the long and drawn out swing and spun Marcus around and slashed him across the back, peeling open his armor like a tin can and sending him back into the mud face first. Marcus cried out in agony as the blade lacerated his skin, blood immediately rushing out of the wound and all over his back. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up to his knees and panted for a moment before forcing himself up. Turning slowly, he faced his father again, determined not to give up.

"Why fight now Marcus....I could drag this fight out until you bleed to death from that wound. If it isn't obvious to you now, it should be. You will die." Ramses said coldly as he held his sword out again, letting the unholy energy erupt around his hand and sword. Slowly, Ramses moved towards Marcus to deliver the killing blow.

Marcus readied himself once more and took a moment to glance to the sky, whispering a prayer to Paladine in his mind. Lord Draco Paladine....I chose to serve you because you represented what I felt was most important in my life and that is honor. I wish I could have served you better in life and redeemed my family for all the sins committed against the innocent and defenseless, but I will not get a chance to do that. My life is yours to do with as you please Lord Paladine...I am not afraid to die.

As Marcus finished his prayer, Ramses brought his sword over his head and swung down hard. Instinctively Marcus put his arm up to block it as if he had a shield, but nothing was there. Suddenly a shield of white light shimmered over his arm and took the blow. Pushing Ramses' sword aside with his divine shield, he felt a swelling of power within him, stemming from his faith in Paladine and his fearless mentality. Bringing his sword up to strike at Ramses' open torso, a white light enveloped his blade as he struck, cutting through Ramses' unholy armor and slinging his life's blood up into the air. With a loud squish from the mud, Ramses hit the ground.

Blood seeped from the mortal wound across Ramses' chest and small gurgling sounds could be heard as blood filled his lungs. Marcus stepped up over to Ramses and kicked the sword from his hand and then looked into his darkening eyes.

"Marcus....I...I'm sorry....I'm sorry things had to be this way....find it in your heart to forgive me for my sins...." Ramses said softly as blood leaked from the corners of his mouth.

One tear slid down Marcus' cheek as he nodded once. "All is forgiven father...."

Ramses smiled one last time before he took his last breath.

"My honor has been serviced. May Paladine take you to his halls to rest for eternity." Marcus said as he took hold of Ramses' hand and pulled him into Goodbay to confirm the death of his father, but most importantly to give him a proper knight's funeral.

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Word quickly passes through the lands that Marcus Fenix has slain the Black Dragon Highlord Ramses Fenix, leaving the Black Dragon Army to it's Highmaster. Marcus is taken to the temple of Mishakal to be healed of his devastating wounds where he is met and congratulated by several soldiers and knights for his brave deed and selfless dedication to honor and faith. Rumor around the Solamnic Army is that several Knights are seeking to take him on as a squire to make him a member of the Knights of Solamnia, but nothing official has been said. While his wounds heal, Marcus dreams of nothing but how he was able to best his father and why Paladine saw fit to bless him with the ability to defeat his father. Only prayer and time will answer his questions.

Amia listened to the story each time the soldiers that brought Marcus Fenix to the temple told it - she had heard it often in the past few days, the soldiers relished talking about the duel. The story was quickly becoming inflated beyond what actually occurred, but she chose not to remind them of what, by their own words, truly happened. If there was one thing Solamnia needed at the moment - it was heroes.

The details of the fight were both heart wrenching and awe-inspiring. Marcus Fenix was barely more than a boy – nine years her junior and he had felled one of the most feared warriors on the face of Krynn.

Healing his wounds had taken days and he still required close observation. Such wounds could not be addressed with one spell or prayer. She and several of her clerics had worked though a number of nights to make sure that the wounds closed properly.

His recovery was not made easier by the stream of visitors that insisted on speaking with him. Knights from each of the three Orders and from every keep and fortress wanted to speak with the boy. The only knights that hadn’t come traipsing through the temple were from Portsmith – they sent a message requesting to meet with him.

She refused them all – the only thing Marcus needed was time to recover and reflect. Amia couldn’t imagine being in Marcus’ position – forced to fight and kill your own father or die. She had a feeling that it would be some time before Marcus would be able to come to terms with what he had been required to do.

Marcus spent much of his time laying in bed, wrapped in countless bandages to support broken bones and seal off the deep lacerations lain into his skin by his father's unholy blade. Clerics of Mishakal and Paladine were all that he saw during his stay, though he could not deny that was a welcome sight. A few of the clerics had quietly thanked him for what he did, forever grateful for removing a great tormentor from the world who caused thousands of people agony when he marched through their towns and burned their houses or killed their families. Such kind words put a smile on his face and made him beam with pride hearing that his honorable actions were being mentioned.

The clerics worked daily to heal the majority of his wounds, some so severe that it would take time to properly mend them beyond just the divine magic of the Gods. The former Lay Priestess, now leader of the Clerics of Mishakal visited him often to tend to his wounds along with other clerics. He'd been told that whatever had created these wounds was nearly beyond the power of even Amia to heal with magic of the Divine. Marcus knew well of his father's sword, where it was forged and what magics bound such treacherous evils to the steel. The cut into his back that touched him from his right shoulder to his left him had nearly cut into his spine, which would have changed this story from a happy ending to a miserable continuance of Ramses reign of terror. Even though he survived the blow, Ramses own evil magic combined with the blade's made the wound terrifying to try and heal. Whatever remnants of magic that were within the wound would constantly fight against the clerics magic and begin to tear open the fresh scar, making it bleed once more. The pain was excruciating when it would begin to tear back open, forcing Marcus to cry out as if the wound had just happened again. Every emotion and sense that had happened the moment Ramses slashed him across the back came rushing back. The clerics would rush in to seal the wound and battle against the dark magic until it would stop bleeding, but they couldn't heal the internal wounds it was scarring across Marcus' heart and mind.

Most nights he would silently cry, weeping for the death of his father, mourning his mother's loss, and his sister's. He'd killed many men, bandits, brigands, and foul servants of the Queen, but something struck him harder than any blow he had ever taken and that was the look in his father's eyes the moment his life's flame was extinguished. That sight was burned into his mind and would haunt his dreams, reinforced by the pain of the wounds he had sustained, ever reminding him of the fact that even though he had followed honor and served justice, he had sinned against his own family by slaying his father. Nothing could ever change that fact and now he would have to live with the idea that the reason his sister and mother will never see his father again is because of him. His family would disown him, the only thing that gave him a place to go that was away from the world where there was no good or evil and no war. A place he could feel safe and now that was gone because of what he had done. The only thing that he had left now were the men that he had stood next to in the Solamnic army and the small hope that he could one day become a Knight of Solamnia.

Taven was bored. He sat, swinging his legs on the bench closest to the raised dais. Mama had sat him on the bench and stared at him straight in the eye, telling him that he was to stay there until she returned.

He sighed and wished someone from the Goodbay militia would come into the temple again and tell him about Marcus Fenix. That story never got boring. Taven wanted to meet Marcus – he’d never met a hero before. That is what everyone said Marcus Fenix was – a hero, like Taven’s own father.

He glanced at the ceiling, trying to figure out if Mama hand really meant for him to sit here or if was to stay just in the Temple. He tilted his head back and forth, thinking over everything she had said. After a long debate, he decided that she meant for him to stay within the temple walls and as long as he did that, he wasn’t disobeying.

He waited patiently for his minders, Nell, Vidir, and Maio to glance away at the same time, it took a while, but once they did he dashed through the open door to the guest chambers on the second floor.

It was much quieter on the temple's upper level. The patter of the fountain and soft notes from the harp in the great room next to the library were the only interruptions to the calming silence. He moved quietly through the library, pausing occasionally to hide behind books if he heard someone come too close.

The thick carpeting in the hallway silenced his footsteps, allowing him to run by the first two rooms and see that Marcus wasn’t in either of them. He continued down the hallway, passed the third room, and heard his mother’s voice.

Taven’s eyes widened and he threw himself into the room and managed to crawled under the bed just in time. She and one of the acolytes passed by the open doorway talking quietly, “Lady Amia, are you sure it is wise to leave him like that?”

He didn’t hear his mama’s reply, but that was okay – it meant she had not seen or heard him and he could keep going. He stuck his head out the door to make sure no one else was around and slid against the wall to the next room. It was dark – a deep blue curtain was hung partway across the door and the candles that were placed in all the rooms were unlit.

Taven pushed the curtain aside and stepped tentatively into the room. His eyes widened. His hero was covered in bandages and seemed to be staring at the ceiling. Taven peeked up to see what was so fascinating, but didn’t see anything.

He swallowed nervously – for the first time unsure. He didn’t know if he was supposed to call Marcus Fenix something special or just say his name. He had never spoken with a hero before. He quirked his lip and shuffled his feet for a moment before asking quietly, “Whatcha starin’ at?”

Marcus was lost in thought, acutely aware of what was going on around him, but oblivious all at the same time. The small voice he heard from a young boy gave him a slight start, making him wince slightly but he turned his head and looked at the little boy. He had features that were strikingly familiar as if he had seen them everyday, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He offered a little smile at the boy, trying to disguise how much pain he was in and motioned for him to come closer. As the boy came closer, he shifted a bit on his bed and offered him a seat next to him. Pulling up his pillows he tried his best to prop himself up without wincing or groaning before he answered the little boy's question.

"What am I staring at?" Marcus chuckled softly "Nothing at all actually. I'm just lying here and letting the clerics do their work so I can go and do mine."

Marcus sighed softly "I feel rather useless sitting in here....and bored." Chuckling again, noting his own youth coming out in his words, he looked back at the little boy. "What's your name?"

Taven grinned - happy that his mission succeeded. He bounced onto the bed, stood up straight and proclaimed, "I'm Taven." As if that should explain everything.

The young boy crouched down and glanced toward the door, hearing voices but allowed himself to relax when they failed to move any closer. "I live near here - I get to play with the dragons! Well, only when either Mama or Saerlith are with me..." The boy shrugged.

He frowned at Marcus and continued without allowing Marcus to answer, "How come you need more healing? Mama can heal anyone easy - she fixes people up way more hurt than you." Taven leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Saerlith told me that Mama even brought someone back from the dead!"

He quirked an eyebrow in a manner similar to his mother’s, “So – are the soldiers right, are you a hero?”

Marcus chuckled as he listened to the little boy, Taven he was called, ramble on for a moment. He decided that his mother was probably one of the more powerful clerics of Mishakal based on what he had said. He thought for a moment on how to answer the two questions Taven had asked him, glancing up to the ceiling while he thought.

"Well, I need more healing because the guy I was fighting hurt me with a weapon that fights healing magic like your mother's. When the clerics come in to heal me they have to work really hard to keep fighting it and hopefully within another week I'll be all better." Marcus said with a reassuring grin, despite the fact he wasn't sure how long it would take to heal the severest of wounds he had. His ribs and back still felt like he'd had a house dropped on him and laying around moping about the fact he couldn't do anything accept lay around a mope was quite a vicious cycle so he was glad to have Taven to keep him company for a while.

"And you asked me if I was hero, right? Well..." Marcus chuckled a little bit, trying not to think too much about the battle with his father, "I don't know if I'm a hero or not. It was my duty to uphold my honor when the evil knight challenged me to a duel. I managed to beat him, but as you can see it wasn't without a price. He was really scary and really tough too. The guards outside the city even told me that he rode in on a giant black dragon with huge horns on the side of his head! I was really scared, but I knew I had to fight him because I didn't want to be called a dishonorable coward. You tell me then, am I a hero Taven or just another guy doing what is right and just?

Marcus smiled warmly at Taven and looked at him to see what he would say.

cassandra would Arrive at the black dragon keep over 2 weeks after the Terrible duel the first born son and the man she had married all those years ago, the mood of the men was dull and she saw no reason for it to be so, as she knew nothing of what had transpired at goodbay, yet there was a Growning concern in her heart as she walked into the keep, heading for her beloveds throne room, she found the highmaster of the black army setting in his chair, rage would build up in her as she didnt see a reason why this lowly highmaster would dare sit in the chair of the highlord, she would inhale deeply, already gathering her various powers to punish the bafoon for his insolence, she would walk up to the throne and slams her hands into the armrests of the throne, her nails would dig into the wood of the armrests as her burning fingertips burned the wood, her eyes would be upon him in rage as she asked Bitter sweetly, keeping her allways so polite decieving Tone

"may i ask why you are sitting my husbands chair Highmaster, i belive your place might be on the floor if anything in this room, get off it!"

she would raise her voice as she words, the highmaster would swallow hard as he looked into her eyes, dooplets of sweat would run down his face as he didnt know what to say, his words come out a studder in the pressence of this nefarious but hauntingly beautifull cleric before him

"my..m..my lady, the Highlord..yyy..yyo your husband, has be...be..beee"

cassandra would yell right into his face right, her body crackling with dark unholy energy that would seem to childsplay for her to gather around her

"Tell me What happend to my husband YOU FOOL!"

the highmaster would nearly spit out of the words just to get rid of them, but to cassandra those hushed words would come dripping, out slowly like the most vile Poison, a lucid dream, a nightmare to her

"Your husband has been slain My lady, by his own flesh and blood"

Cassandra would say nothing as her unholy amulet of faith Glew, only making her emtions feel strong, pain, hatred, discontend sorrow, loneliness, the uttermost pain of loss and she even felt part of her had been ripped away forward, unable to contain her growning rager that spout from her like a eruption of a volcano, a blast wave that would fill the throne room, a nova of fire and brimstone, it would turn the room completly black as ash and smoke had painted the walls of the room, turning wood into nothing more than black chucks of what it used to be, most of it would burn brightly yet peaefully, all the guards had run out of the room as they had seen this display of destruction from cassandra before when she last her temper in a fit of Emotial rage, but the poor highmaster wouldnt have been spared as he was trapped in the chair as she erupted, she opened her eyes again, Tears would be flowing from her freely, years of happiness and good memories would fill her up and she relived every good moment with ramses for the last time in matter of seconds as she erupted, she would be sobbing, her tears feel down upon the charred but still alive highmaster, the tear stained priestess would chant a simple healing spell to heal the dying and charred Highmasters Mortal wounds, and leave him with a second chance of life and only one sentance

"see to the troops, they are dull and low on morale, see to it, if you wish to sit in that chair alive when i come back"

she would say nothing more and run to scarlett's room and wake up her little girl, waking up, she would ask her mother what was wrong, she just coo'ed to the little girl to trust her mommy and go back to sleep, the little girl would drift back to sleep as her mother had asked of her, she would carry her wrap her into the sheats to keep the little wonder warm and safe.

stepped out into the cold night air, she would sigh as her black feathered wrings spread from underneat her cloak, she would talke flight, towards Goodbay, towards answers with scarlett in her arms, a Var'kyl of death in sky as she dammed her own son for his deeds and her own husband for his weakness.

she would touch down on the ground, and look around, her eyes would pierce the night as her demonic herritage would make the night clear to her, she placed a spell upon the ears of her daughter to keep her safe and asleep from the words she was about to utter, they would be spoken in both demonic, infernal and the normal human tongue, all at once, eccoing through her whole town of goodbay as she played with the sound to scare the people, it would ecco, from every corner, repeat itself, even hurt in the ears of some as her words where filled with malice of both her human and Demonic part

"MARCUS!, Kinslayer!, Come out, face your mother and sister, tell us why you did it, i demand answers son, right here, right now, if you wont come out, trust me i will burn everything to cinders you see around you"


she would build up her anger, the dark energy would lid up the night around in a dark red light, she waited and wouldnt leave before her demands that been granted


//OMG, so tired, i will check for typo's <.<, but i think you get the meaning, mean B**** is pissed

By the time Cassandra arrived, Marcus was already on his way to the Clerics of Mishakal outside of Portsmith. Guards from the city of Goodbay quickly relayed the message to Cassandra that Marcus had been whisked away across the sea with a cleric to keep him alive until they could reach Portsmith. Feeling a little bold, one of the guards stepped forward to speak for Marcus.

"M'lady, you ask for a reason as to why this happened? The man Marcus defeated oustide of town came here upon Dragon-back and called out a challenge the entire town of Goodbay could hear. It may not be my place to say, but I think no matter what happened here tonight, you would be here, angry at someone and demanding answers....and now you have them."

Taven quirked an eyebrow in a manner similiar to his mother and appeared unfazed at the mention of the dragon. He merely shrugged, "Glitter is bigger and she lets me ride her lots."

Taven tilted his head in consideration, "Uncle Arvan says that heroes are always only doing what's right." He paused, then added, "'Specially when it's scary."

Amia's calm voice caused Taven to jump and glance over his shoulder guiltily, "Your Uncle is correct Taven. Heroes are not glory hounds looking for fame and recognition. Not the heroes worth admiring anyway." She motioned for Taven to move off the bed, "You are not where I specifically told you to stay."

Taven's shoulders hunched under Amia's gaze and he slid off the bed. He walked toward his mother slowly and grabbed one of her hands, "I'm sorry Mama."

She quirked an eyebrow, "Umm Hmm. There will be consequences for disobeying." Her gaze flicked up to Marcus' prone position, "I apologize if he disturbed you."

Cassandra would be more than infuryrate to learn that her own son had eluded her, she started to think of ways how to best intercept him and finally get her answers from an atleast proper man rather than the bold guard that thought himself to be high enough to even have the right to speak to her in that way, her lips curled into a grin as she looked at the guard, her hands would grip around his throat, she would be fast enough that poor guard couldnt even react to it, her iron gaunlet would press hard again his breathing tube, as her burning eyes pierced his soul, demanding true answers

"When did they leave, Tell me! and where have you put the corpse of my husband!"

Guards all around her drew swords, whistles blew in the darkness as countless other soldiers were summoned, shields and swords drawn forming a circle as the guard she strangled choked out a response.

"He has left towards Portsmith, unconscious. Your husband is on the same boat, ordered by Marcus to be given a Knight's burial in Palanthas by right of the Knights of Solamnia."

As he finished what he was saying, he began to pale in her grasp, nearing the end of his life and the guards around her crept closer and closer with their swords at their ready.