Welcome to Gaia! ::

Darkness, darkness was the only thing he saw; the only thing that kept him company throughout the long years. Never to see the world again, but to forever be damned in limbo. To never see the loved ones he once fought for. Life, for this man, was nothing more than a taunting shadow. Something that chastised him. There was no peace in this slumber, only regret and sorrow; for it was what bound him to this cruelly formed world. Never to pass to the next life, forever trapping him in a lifeless shell.

Time passed slowly, or maybe it passed quickly. There was no real sense of time, all there was was darkness. If it was not the darkness that haunted him, it was the reoccurring flashes that bore heavily upon his very soul. Images of a woman with bright sapphire eyes, crying out into the night. She held a young boy within her arms, mourning loudly as she held him close. Then... just like a gentle breeze, she was gone. Leaving the young boy all alone in a world.

Who were they? His spirit could never recall, whoever they were; whatever he had done to them. had bound him on this infernal plane of existence. One day, however, everything changed. For the first time, he opened his eyes. surrounded by nothing but dirt, he let out a hollowed scream. Fear gripping his unbeating heart, he began to dig upward. Praying to not return to the eternal sleep.

Finally, after many pain filled minutes, he clawed himself to the surface. Staring down at his hands, he realized something was off. There was no skin! There was no muscle, no tendons, nothing! "What is this?!" He yelled as he began to feel his face. "I-I-I... no I can't still be... is this another nightmare?" He wheezed, gazing down he looked upon his tattered, bloodstained, clothes. Whatever happened, must have happened long ago. Guessing by the slashes, he assumed that he was murdered. Most likely by some thugs looking for some coin.

With a hefty sigh, the young man began to look around. That's when he saw the man draped in violet robes. The red, glowing, tattoos accompanied with an uneasy grin was off setting. Yet the man didn't move, no, it was as if he were studying him! "S-Sir! Are you friend or foe!" The man did not reply back, instead he laughed! What in hell was this creature!

"Dear child, is that how you greet an old friend? Especially one who spent nearly two decades trying to bring you back?" With a twisted grin, he held out his man to the skeleton. "Oh Tristan, this is better than what I could have imagined! A beautiful split soul, void of memories." He thought happily. The grin never left his face as he gripped the skeletal hands of Tristan. "Now... this won't due..." Gripping down onto Tristan's hand, a dark aura began to surround them. "Now... rise my great general. Lead me to victory against all those whom appose me." The man tightened his grip. Watching as shadow like hands surrounded the skeleton. Latching onto the poor being like flies on honey.

Everything slowly turned red as electricity coveted his body. Blackening his bones while the small hands began to fill them with a strange substance. Soon a terrible pain began to stir throughout his being. It felt like a swarm of knives slashed throughout his body. The strange fluid that covered his bones slowly began to take a form. Soon his once tattered rags slowly mended; turning itself into jet black armor. The long, gilded, tassets hung down to his grieves. His once shredded jeans, shifted into a dark leather fixture. Even the dented shield behind him changed into a new hunk of metal.

"What... what is all this?" Tristan asked hesitantly.

"This..." With a sinister smirk, he made a small gesture with his hands before bringing them into his robes. "This is simply you're revival. I brought you back to avenge your death, to give you the blissful sleep you so desire. That is what you wish isn't it/"

Slowly he nodded. Returning to the darkness was out of the question. He'd never return to that hell. "I... I won't go back..." He muttered softly.

"Good, now come. You're running late for your first assignment." Everything was going according to plan. Such poetic justice! The enemy's own blood will slay him! If only that poor idiot knew what was coming.

"Aren't you the busy bee, very well then..." Swishing his hand in the air, the robed man summoned a old looking scroll. It slid open with ease, revealing it to be a detailed map of the continent. "Alright child... as you can see we are still in Crimea, the Grey Haven is located here. Roughly three miles off the border... now there is something else I must warn you about. My other daughter, Agwyn, she is taking this land for her own. Her power is not to be underestimated; she is death, and she will not hesitate to kill."

Tristan merely studied the map, memorizing key features. One of which was a rather large mountain that seemed roughly a mile or two away from the chapel. "She's there isn't she?" He said softly as he studied the map. With a slight smile, Tristan began to slowly shake his head. "Its too obvious... but... maybe, maybe this can work to my advantage. Thank you master, I shall be heading off." Without another word he took the map from the man, then began to walk ahead of him.

"I should've thought of this years ago! Maybe Cain's lil screw up turned the tides in my favor!" He thought. Now if only his new general stayed this obedient, then he'd have nothing to worry about. For if the sheep was laid astray, it would never see the light of day. "Remember Tristan, you answer to me, and me alone. Oh by the way... I have a mount for you." With an evil grin he snapped his fingers. From the depths of the forest came a an angered screech. Stomping could be heard, then the sudden crash of a tree. That's when it showed its head; a dragon! Its scales a fine silver, while her blue, dull, eyes gazed down at them. "This is your mount, and my loyal servant."

At first the beast snapped at him, thinking him as nothing more than food; or an annoyance. Her hide bid many a scar, and a metallic collar dug into her neck. She was a servant all right, probably a slave of the man in question. "Thank you sire, but I don't think..." He jumped back, this time narrowly dodging a fatal bite. This time, however, their eyes have met. His body quivered as he gazed into its eyes. Her eyes were riddled with sorrow, pain, and much more.

Suddenly he dropped to his knees, gripping his head tightly as he let out a hollowed scream. Images of a woman with silvery hair began to burn into his mind. The smile she bore soon turned into a frown, then their were tears. Her eyes were like an oasis, and her tears like rain. He doubled over, his head hit the ground with great force; his eyes shut. "Who is she?!" He yelled loudly as the woman slowly began to fade. "W-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Tristan yelled.

Though delighted to cause this misery, it was a bit... unnerving. Tristan should be like the Seekers, emotionless, void of all life; yet here he was howling over this woman. "Tristan, you've been dead for a long time... roughly thirteen years. Your mind, I'm afraid is lost within the sea. What you are experiencing... it's nothing. You are my general, my ally, thus I advice you to shape up and carry out your mission. Afterwards I'll be able to aid you." His memory needed to be eradicated, especially if this was the outcome. "An Anubis with emotion..." He thought, "Oh Mance, what have you done?" With a evil grin, he turned away from the boy. "Beast, that is your new master, follow his every command... if he wishes for you to die, then you best kill yourself; if he wishes to turn your hide into armor, then you hand him the knife to do so. Now go, and don't return till the mission is done!" Slowly Mance sunk into a black puddle, leaving no trace of his existence.

Shaking nervously, Tristan stood up. The beast was no longer biting at him, instead it seemed as if it were studying him, did the robe man truly have such power over this dragon? "Come on... we got a lot of ground to cover." Tristan ordered, as he climbed upon the dragon's back. He dug the back of his grieves into her side; she let out a ear shattering shriek before taking off into the sky. "First... we head for the daughter... the one they call Agwyn."

As the beast hunted, Tristan planned. His master said that his daughter would most likely kill him. Yet, maybe this could be a good thing. After all, if he proved his worth then why would she kill him? A proposal of a test was in order. A gambit, if she'd accept. Most likely the one named Nukia was causing her trouble; if not why place a camp near the Grey Haven? So why not cut a deal, take care of her, slay the bandit, and rid the world of the traitor. That should make her and the master happy!

That or at least keep his hide from being fried. Now came to the real plan... how could he get his message across? Truly a face to face intervention would not be for the best. After all, he was a mere stranger; even if his body consisted of her father's magic. The chances of death were too high. Maybe... maybe a simple note would suffice. Surely she wouldn't miss a lower ranking officer? Surely not, after all her father could bring back the dead! So what's one messily life worth?

The sounds of hefty footsteps came from the woods. The sudden fall of a tree caught his attention, it would seem that his mount had arrived! "Finally you're back, for a moment I thought I had to drag your a** back here." Slowly he hoped up, rolled up his map, and began to head towards the beast. He gave her snout a light thwack with the map, though it seemed to only stare at him. Maybe punishing her with a simple thwack of a map was... not effective. "Well... I can't simply ride ya into the camp. We'd be a giant target! That simply won't due... give me your fang." Tristan held out his hand; thinking that the beast would comply simply. "Blasted thing, fine, have it your way. So much for the stealthy approach; I'll just go in, flailing my sword about like a loon."

"Yet again... maybe it can help, master did say that it was enchanted with ice magic...That's it! Ha ha, you wonderful beast you gave me a brilliant idea! I'll simply select a lamb from the flock, give it my message, freeze the poor b*****d, then once Agwyn thaws him out to figure out who did it; bam! she'll receive my message! That or the poor fool would die... could just attach a note to him. Yet again... that's not as fun now is it?" Tristan gave a low huff. This had to go off without a hitch, if anything he could setup a inner base with this woman; if it went wrong then he'd be dreaming up in the black abyss again.

Deciding to think it out as they traveled, Tristan hoped upon his mount. Digging his heels into the beast's ribs, it took off. For something so large it did fly elegantly. Yet again, she was rather small. Either way she'd due, even if she was a sore thumb during the night. "This is the plan, you're going to land within two hundred yards from their camp; I'll hike the rest of the way. Do NOT go within the camp's perimeter, you are to stay put until I return. If not, you're hide would make a fine armor!" He threatened; yet at the same time, there was a strange nagging feeling about it; strange indeed.

Leaving the beast in the dust, Tristan made way towards the camp. The smell of burning wood grew stronger and stronger. Most likely he was coming upon a small platoon. The sound of voices filled the air. Smirking, Tristan slowly approached them. Flipping his sword, the blade dragging against the ground, he made his way through the bushes. That's when he saw the men. For people lead by a strong leader, they were very ill equipped. Some were the rags of barbarians, while others sported small leather apparel. Their blades were dulled, their axes chipped, and their shields held many dents. This was for sure a piss poor army for sure, or maybe they were the expendables. Low ranking officers who have no place.

Either way each of them shared one thing in common, death. Slowly Tristan made his way behind their tent. Grasping a small stone in hand, he threw the rock into their lantern. The glass shattered and riddled the ground, alerting those of the campsite. At first they sounded fearful. Speaking of something called the "Witch's Vashta". Whatever that was, it surely wouldn't be saving them now. The largest was elected to check. Smiling, Tristan raised his blade as the fool slowly made his way toward the shadows. The trembling giant was carried a worn-out battleaxe. The cruelly made scrap was ill designed, and looked like it could break with a single swing.

b*****d really thought he could kill anything with that metal on a stick. "Idiot..." Tristan whispered as he rammed the tip of his sword through the fool's ribcage. The bones shattered as they passed through the man's organs. The axe dropped with a loud thud, then soon the body. The others began to panic. This wasn't good, they could alert the mistress. Quickly Tristan stepped from the shadows, his hazel eyes burned a bright gold in the fire's light. "I was hoping for a challenge, but this is pathetic! Fools chase me with battered sticks with hunks of metal attached to em." Shaking his head Tristan flicked his wrist, sending bloody icicles into the ground. Each shattered with a slight crackling noise. "If this is her army, I'm quite disappointed..."

Without hesitation, Tristan slashed at the air. Sending large icicle like spears after his prey. One was able to jump out of their way, his friend, however, wasn't as lucky. The first icicle penetrated the man's shoulder, the next dug deep into his hip; shattering it on contact. The final shard sliced through his knee, cutting through the bone as if it were paper. The man let out a scream for help. "Dammit..." Tristan uttered as he slayed the crying man.

All that was left was a small lad, whom fell flat on his hind quarters. Pleading for life, the young man bowed to Tristan. "Silly child, I'm not going to kill you... no, you're going to be my messenger." Before the boy could move, Tristan gripped his neck. Squeezing it tightly before the boy's body went numb. Then, while the boy still drew breath, carved "Message" into the boy's chest. Unlike the ones before, he couldn't scream! Oh joy-ace day! His master must be so pleased, that is if he could see this. Once the bloody message was carved, Tristan glared into the eyes of the young man. Tears were streaking down the kid's cheeks. Poor thing, he'd almost pity him if it wasn't for the fact he was human. "Tell your master to stay out of my way, the boy and girl will be dealt with. The traitor will leave the safety of Grey Haven, and all will be happy. Master, her, and me. Now... time to put this ice." No warning was given when the cold blade dug into the boy's stomach; freezing him from the inside out. Tristan watched the boy's tear filled eyes freeze. Agwyn was going to have a time with this one.

Dragging the frozen message into the forest, Tristan began to hunt for his "sister's" quarters. Though they weren't hard to find for it was heavily guarded by these strange beings. Some of which looked like the very beast that attacked him earlier. Smiling happily, Tristan slowly stepped out from bushes; dragging the message close behind him. "MAIL!" He yelled at the top of his lungs as he walked toward the camp. Slowly the air around them began to chill as Dragnipur began to glow a strange aura. The sudden drop of temperature had some of the surrounding troops shaking in their boots. Mist began to form as the temperature dropped lower and lower. "A message from our master." He said slowly as he dropped the boy. The lad's left arm shattered on impact. Sending chunks of frozen meat across the ground by her tent.

The tent's flap began to shake, as if someone were to come out. Yet before the mistress could open, Tristan sent several ice shards into the velvet walls of the tent. Though it wasn't much, it gave him more than enough time to retreat back into the fog. Hopefully she'd understand the letter, though he feared the parchment wouldn't last. "Humans... some would pity them, I say to hell with them. Nobody knows the pain of eternal slumber." He whispered softly as he ventured back into the woods. Thankfully this time it was a much more pleasant walk.

The ice dragon was where he left her, though she curled up sleeping this time. For a massive scaly beast, it was rather cute. Like a giant scaly kitten, or other animal that's not a dragon. "Must we disturb her?" A voice echoed through the back of his head; almost like a bar maid nagging a drunkard to get up. "Wake up scales!" He ordered, ignoring the strange voice within his head. He gave her snout a good thwack. "Listen closely, I need you to remain here... or at least in the area. I'm going to Grey Haven, its not far from here. Please, stay safe... I don't want master to have a reason to kill me." Carefully he patted the dragon's snout before turning his back on her. "Best head toward the mountain, its colder up there."

Once his disguise was complete, Tristan decided to have a look in the mirror. True he looked the part, but could he really act it? The fear in the fallen bishop's eyes did tell him much; such as his little affair with one of the students. Oh well, death wouldn't keep them apart for too long; not if his master had anything to say about it. Still, there was more for Tristan to learn. So he searched and searched throughout the fallen bishop's room. Gathering old notes, scrolls, and even love letters. Anything, and everything, that would help further his act.

Reading through the notes, he figured out that the bishop's name was Roland Bromios. In life the young bishop loved knives, sleeping, and helping tend to the gardens. Which was odd for most of the other monks whom spent their time by working in the fields or doing missionary work. Apparently he fell in love with a girl named Decima Galateia. According to the poetry, she had long red hair. Her blue eyes shined like diamonds during the setting sun. Her petite figure could send any man off the righteous path. Truly this man cared for this girl, it almost made Tristan sick.

"Why must you kill? Why end the life of one who just began to truly live?" A voice spoke out; though where it came from, he did not know. After all there was no one, besides himself, in the room? Maybe it was that odd voice in the back of his head. "Shut it, he'd escape and rat me out. The only logical thing was to kill him. Yet that damn nagging voice kept persisting that he was wrong. "I have no time to go crazy, I have work to do." Tristan said coldly as he continued to study the scrolls.

After educating himself on the boy's schedule and scrolls, Tristan took a large rag and wrapped it around his face. If anyone would ask, he'd simply say he had a cold and didn't want it to spread. It seemed believable, after all his skin was rather pale. Still, if only his master gave him a army to command; then this place would be nothing but a pile of rubble by mourn. Yet again, there was no fun in that. Simply conquering this pathetic excuse for a monastery meant nothing. But tearing it apart from the inside out, that would please his master to no end; especially if he rid the world of the bandit and the traitor.

So Tristan went to the garden to "tend" to the garden. Truth be told, tristan was meeting his so called lover. Poor thing, probably young with many of years to live. Sadly fate had a different path for her, one that ended before it could ever begin. Entering the garden, Tristan headed toward the old rose bush. Peeking his head over it, he saw a young girl. "Decima..." Tristan whispered softly. She seemed to be busy studying a rose of some kind. Pathetic really, human emotions only got in the way. Why waste one's time on them?

Slowly he approached the woman with the strange flower fixation. The person matched the description from the love letters; almost to a tee. Tristan didn't see her eyes shine like diamonds; they seemed rather dull than anything. "Decima, is everything okay, you're worrying me." Sitting next to her, he gently placed his hand onto her shoulder. "Come on, you know you can tell me... is the head bishop getting to you again. I don't see why you listen to him..."

"S-Shut up..." She whispered softly. This man was not Roland, no he couldn't be. Sure he acted like her lover, yet he didn't sound like him. Not only that, but a dark presence emitted from this stranger. "W-What did you do with Roland?" She asked, this time staring into the man's face. Her white eyes told everything; she was blind.

The notes said nothing of this, only that she had the brightest of eyes which glistened like diamonds. Was he lying to her this whole time? If he still had a heart, he'd probably change his mind about ending her life. "I don't know what you're talking about Demi, are you coming down with something." Gently Tristan stroked the girl's cheek, hoping to win favor. Yet, instead she turned her head.

"R-Roland... what did you do to him? W-Where is he?" Tears began to cascade down her cheeks and onto the cold ground. Why wasn't he here? Who was this imposter, it couldn't be her beloved.

"Demi please..." Using his thumb, he began to wipe the tears from her eyes. She would've made a fine bride, faithful, loyal, and loved the dead man. Closing his eyes, Tristan rested his forehead against hers. His hand was shaky as he lightly lifted it up. His once hidden gauntlet revealed itself as he held it roughly a inch from the woman's stomach. What was this feeling? Why was his hands shaking! She was just another human! Yet, something kept clawing at him. Swallowing hard, Tristan gave the woman a light kiss.

She looked horrified, yet held onto him. Why? Suddenly a vision flashed before his eyes. It was of the silver haired maiden whom tormented him in death. Yet this time it was different, she was sitting down and a man was resting his head on her lap. Both seemed quite content, that is until the shadows engulfed them into the blackness of the abyss. Never to be seen again.

"In the end... he truly loved you." Tristan murmured. That's when he struck. His stabbed the tips of his fingers into the woman's stomach. Quick to cover her mouth, tristan drove his hand deeper until he could grip her spine. Frantic cries were muffled out, while she tried to shake loose. Nothing could save her. "Easy child... just go into the light." His body was shaking as the girl struggled for freedom. Soon, she fell limp onto his shoulder. Tears began to soak his robes, while the faint sound of breathing came from the girl.

"I-I'm scared..." She cried out, though it was nothing more than a whisper onto the wind. Her body was no longer in pain, and a hefty spell set upon her. She wanted to sleep. "I-I-I..." breathing heavily, she gripped onto Tristan's robes. Fighting furiously to stay awake, even if sleeps sweet embrace was right around the corner. Fear gripped at her heart, and all she could do was hold on. Hold on with every last bit of her strength. She didn't want to die, she wanted to live! Live... with roland. "Roland..."

"C-Come... C-Come Decima, come into the light. Join me." Tristan whispered into the woman's ear. "Here... here we can be together, no laws separating us. It's beautiful Decima, please... come with me."

"R-Roland... I...love you." With her final words she slipped away into the night. Joining her lover in the peaceful bliss of rest.

Strange memories began to flood back into Tristan's mind as he held onto the girl's dying body. Images of the maiden crying as she peered down at a dead man. While others were of her running away, along with other strange faces he did not recognize. Yet why would this, this of all things jog such painful memories? "Sleep..." Tristan said softly as he laid the girl down by the rose bush.

Sitting on the soft bed, Tristan began to meditate. Trying to put together the mysterious puzzle that was once his past life. Nothing made since, the silver haired maiden, the fierce battle with the woman whom held the twin daggers, and now the strange man who had his appearance? Who were they, and why did they torment his mind? Minutes passed by like hours, yet he could not come up with a single answer. Maybe it was not meant to be, maybe he was nothing more than a lowly mercenary who ran into some bothersome bandits.

Life, such a fragile thing, it could be whisked away in the blink of an eye. Now he set in a plane between death and life; yet in the natural world he never belonged. Sighing softly, Tristan finally rose to his feet. It was bothering him greatly, and meditating on it didn't help at all. "Dammit... what's keeping them so long... they should be..." a loud bang echoed throughout the halls, blowing door off its hinges. "Ah, that's my signal." Tristan said with a smile; thankful to get a distraction from his own thoughts.

Gripping his blade, Tristan went into the war zone.Dust filled the air throughout the hallway, creating a thick cloud. the holy men choked as they ran past him. Each one who ran by, he would cut down; creating more panic within. Screams of children, woman, and men were like music to his ears. From the windows he could see the massive army approaching, magic filled the sky! What a splendid sight! Turning his head, Tristan met with an elderly gentleman who was attempting to calm the waves of distraught. "Foolish old man." Tristan said as he approached the man. His sword's edge drug against the walls, sending sparks flying.

"By the gods..." The bishop turned to see the swordsman, their was no life in his eyes. A sudden chill filled the room, so he quickly pulled out his tome. "Get back being of the shadows!" Whispering the spell, the old bishop sent a thundering bolt of lightening at the man.

Laughing, Tristan moved slightly to the left. Watching as it zoomed by before striking one of the students. "Oh deary, best repent father for thy kingdom has come." With the flick of a wrist, Tristan had frozen the man's leg. The closer he got, the colder the room became. Ice began to climb up the walls, cracking the very stone beside him. The old man attempted one more spell, this time it hit its mark. The bolt of light penetrated his stomach, burrowing itself deep within his gut. meld dripped from the wound, covering his newly acquired robes in the thick paste. "Damn you... if I could still feel, that would've hurt." In spite of the old man, Tristan kicked his frozen leg. It shattered with ease, and the old man screamed in pain; sadly it was muffled by the screeching from outside.

Slowly Tristan lifted the man up by the collar, his face was as white as snow. His eyes were dialiated, as his lips quivered in fear. "What, can't focus? Poor man, don't worry I'll take real good care of the kids for ya." He began to repeatedly beat the man's back against the frozen wall. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, but that didn't stop Tristan. Even when the poor man begged for death, he did not give it. Instead he slammed the man's body into the wall harder, until it finally gave way.

"Oh goodie, you're still alive. Whelp, it's been a blast, but I have one more on my list so... its been fun!" Tristan didn't bother listening to a dead man's last words, so he dropped the bishop and watched as he fell to the ground below. "now... who's next? Ah yes... the boy." Tristan grinned as he roamed the halls. Those who ran his way met an untimely end, and all was for the greater good. The world would be short one hero if all went to plan.

So much to do, and such little time. The spy was killed, the high bishop was slain, and now all he had to do was deal with a pesky look-alike. That damned clone would suffer the worst death! Tristan will force the man watch as he takes the very person he loves away from him; then leave him to die. Such was the price for stealing a man's identity. There was no pity, no pride, or honor that waited that poor soul; only death and endless agony. For life never played favorites, and death was truly the ultimate nightmare.

Soon Tristan found his way outside, that's where he saw the true chaos. Children laid with their faces in dirt, while the elders tried rounding them up, arrows stuck out from the recently dead, while some had their flesh rotted off their bones. Death was in the air tonight, along with a twelve ton dragon. The blasted thing was swatting both sides away as if they were mere ants! another thing out of the ordinary, was the burning ball of light soaring through the air. It was no magic, that's for sure. Whatever it was, it was pushing back their lines! "If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself!" Tristan thought as he drew his blade.

He was more than tempted to slay the man, that is until the elderly woman told him to go aid the Valkyrie. Blast this ill disguise, if only he could show his true colors; then there would truly be a blood bath! Yet he was stuck with it, pretending to lend a helping hand. So he aided them, gifting them new staves or barking orders from afar. They were so willing to listen, focusing their attacks on the larger beasts before pelting the smaller with their light magic. Though they were spellslingers, at least they could follow orders.

the fiery spell that had whizzed before them seemed to be jumping all over the place. Sticking in one area for mere seconds before leaving once more. Maybe instead of it being magic, maybe it could have been something else. After all, magic was not that sporadic. Whatever that was moved with the wind. Letting it guide him to destination to destination. After the being fought, it returned to the roof top where the dragon was located. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. It was too mysterious for his liking, and needed to be studied.