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[NightShade]

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Nightshade did not think what she was about to do, was in her best interest. She could feel the quiet voice of her concious mind advising her wholeheartedly to not seek him out. Rarely did she listen to it. So she penned this letter anyhow, being sure to animate a corspe that was precisely 300 years old to deliver it.

It had all began the night prior, on the road to Deuces. For some reason, upon this night, it had been littered with imps. They cackled and danced and sent waves of spells in the Necromancer's direction. She made her way to this familiar and beloved meeting place. Always was she drawn here, to this tavern, to the lands of Ilshenar. Danger lurked around every corner and she LOVED it. There was nothing that could stop the woman's travels.

One by one, she would smite them, her ussual patience with the Imp's trickery gone. Their wretched bodies lay dead in her wake, blood oozing from their silent mouths, their little faces contorted in pain. She had always been so ruthless about extracting painful deaths. It was second nature to watch as her poisonous spells and arrows wrought such an exquisite thing, twisting beautifully inside their little screaming bodies. It was glorious to feel each surge of energy leave them and return to her, her fingers itching for bigger prey. She had come to recognize that simple things were not good prey, they gave very little up. She needed greater prey, with more to lose more to give.

Yet it was not time.

The vast room of the tavern was shadowy, the scent of herbs for potions and spells burning on the pentagrams rising up, warning all that this was a final resting place of many. This was the waystation, the ante chamber to hell. There sitting in a chair pulled to its resonating darkness was some of the younger members of her family. Young beings fresh in their dark hour, learning the ways of destruction. They would grow up, to wreak their chaos or perhaps their controlled order upon the world.

Yet it was the dark stranger that entered, that bore the most intrigue for her. His eyes were what intrigued her, they seemed as if they searched for something that was hestating to be found. Keen intellect, and an air of forgotten superiority followed him. Nightshade turned as fate stuck forth its hand and pushed her unwilling to this place now here with him.

Have you come to slay us sir?

She almost felt a pause in him, an uncertainty as he questioned whether he had? She wasn't sure and something for the first time in a long time unleashed itself in her, a sense of self preservation. For a dangerous man had entered, and she knew well their path.....

This required further...study.
_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

[NightShade]

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The cold Marble walls spoke little of the warmth that Lord British had once carried. The Queen Dawn disposed of. Riots across the lands. Such chaos, such glee.

When Imryrr said to Nightshade, the simple phrase *Reign you in* It hit chords the woman could not possibly know. Imryrr Armunn followed her father, they sought a well ordered world. One filled with the domination and ultimate obedience to the Armunn family. Nightshade understood this, it was not so much that she, thought they could not do a good job. Indeed a family so favoured by her own in control would seem a boon.

The issue was, that The Cabal could not be *Reigned In*.

Yet Imryrr was young, inexperienced, as Myrddin put it, not as seasoned. She followed her ideal to the tee, and Nightshade admired this. However, the world was NOT all black and white. There were all sorts of Shades of Grey. This mentality was a very youthful, unrealistic beleif. Those who had lived in battle new, that an enemy was never what you expected. Never so clear cut as you hoped. Nor was an ally.....

So If the Armunn family chose to introduce the Necromancers of Oblvion back upon this stage, she could indeed respect their choice. She hoped Oblviion did not turn them all into a wasteland of desolation once again. However Nightshade had, goals of her own, and it was indeed time for someone new, and unexpected to grace this stage.

That is why she stood here now in Lord British's Castle.

His memories now returned, what he was, what he is, to be married now in one.

Camuel stood staring her down, as his voice rang out forcefully proclaiming his birthright.

Camuel Ronin St. Clair had returned...

Now the fun can begin.
_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

[NightShade]

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To Quiet, to well ordered, just as Myrddin liked it. Yet though he loved the rigidly straight lines of life, Nightshade could only see zig zags. Her heart beat with every tumultous sound, her eyes opened with every chaotic vibration, she was a creature born of it, and perhaps a creature to one day die of it. This was fates finest gift, and she did not shirk it. She had begun a goal, and had a direct cause, however, getting there was the question. She felt that another step should be taken, and as she saw the numbers grow she new that she needed to send it all spinning once more.

She flicked the magic orb, and like a top it spun, its green light shining brighter and brighter.

Oh ancient spirits of my past,
Bring to me this one at last,

Show me the face of thy heart,
From death they surely will depart.

Grant me guidance upon this throne,
Grant me wisdom as I roam.

Sending chaos forward still
Give me strength and give me will.

Laughter sweet upon this night
Till they drown by mornings light.

As she uttered her last chant the image of a face took shape above the glowing orb, and Nightshade looked at it in surprise. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. You? Why of all family would it have to be You?

You were a blackguard, a rebel....

Aaah now I think I see.. Tis in the spirit of the person, not the practice.

So it shall be done.
_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

[NightShade]

---

Written briefly upon her notepad:

In the wake of an impending disaster, animals have a keen sense of knowledge. Long before the first rumbles from the earth, or great wrath of a storm, the animals will become odd and seem to act unusually. Humans often ignore these signs, we struggle often with our own eventuality, our own final breath makes the sense of loss greater. To see another sunrise or nightfall, to hold the hand of one so beloved and feel their warm breath caress our neck. These treasured things prompt often the face to turn from disaster and live happily in denial.

This is where the opportunist lives. Within the hearts of those that deny, within the hearts of those that seek power they can not understand nor possibly weild. Within the rash impatient.

The only clue is with the animals, Mimus knew and tried to show her, and yet he paid the price for her boldness.

Would that always be the way? Or perhaps now without Mimus she was lacking a former protection, somewhat vulnerable. Or had she become a part of some great chaos, some great madness that moved and would one day come crashing over the side of a cliff at great speed.

Written in a different handwriting beneath this entry:

One can only hope, spirit. Yet you see, you are wrong, the madness, the chaos , its really all about that spell... That ONE spell
_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

[NightShade]

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The branch caught her upside the head and sent her flying off her horse across the sandy beach.

She was barely able to scream his name...

Gnarllllll Oh crap..

ommpph.

Wisps flitted around them and Shade dazed from the hit still smiled even as she heard the words.

Hello Shadebag...

The corrupted tree had long called them Meatbags, as to him they were nothing more then sacks of meat, walking and polluting the lands.

Cear actually walked forward and wrapped his long arms around the gigantic tree. Shade rose, dusted sand off her skirts, and promptly hit the tree with a painful spell.

It was on... The branches flew at her, splinteres of wood shooting thru the air and Shade was alternately transforming between ethereal and fleshy in order to survive the onslaught and stab the tree with her Kryss.

Another had returned... It was all going according to plan.

Now for the party..
_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

[NightShade]

---

Upon this hour, Nightshade pondered, if a puzzle had ever fit so unperfectly into place. Dismantling, destroying, and bringing forth the chaos that was indeed the will of the Xornite was finally seeing its greatest hour. Evoking shadows of death upon her countenance, Nightshade in her wraithly form, moved away from the Hallowed Court of Truth. Her smile one of delight, her demeanor light and jubilant.

Now another, who would stop them, had been swept away. She recalled that day, when Lady Amandine had overheard, a whisper really, taking note of those who followed the Xornite's whims. She knew well the lady was quickly grasping that which she should not. Soon this Lady Knight would bring her Knights to hunt the Followers, those of Zog, and try to stop that which years had been building for. Cold laughter erupted from her, as she thought upon this ladies face, as Nightshade pronounced her choice of Death, and tho she was not to recieve her wish, the woman had been removed, shamed.

Perhaps with any luck she to would fall to Madness.

It would happen soon, this Masquerade of Madness. The test was soon upon them. Could they wield its power, could they use this instance to build upon and one day achieve thier final goal?

Oh my Lady Kxriss, I feel your spirit shine upon me, if only you were here to savour these moments..

_________________
Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...