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[Azunda]

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He overturned the bookshelf in a fit of rage, shouting a stream of obscenities in the Ebon tongue. With one sweep of his arm he knocked several beakers and vials from the table sending them to the floor, shattering them and permitting the liquid contents to flow across the floor. He was focused, bizarrely focused for the first time in ages. He scanned the room in Morn Cirith for more decorum he could destroy, but found very little.

Azunda moved with a fleet stride into the next room, quite maligned he overturned the table delicately fashioned from skeletal remnants. Another bookshelf, the contents within was certainly dear to someone. One tome at a time, he began tearing out pages from each indiscriminately, stopping for a moment to ingest one of his hallucinogenics. He continued, as long as his frustration would allow him to do so. Once more, he overturned the bookshelf. Exhausted, Azunda fell to his knees breathing heavily. He punched the stone floor, the bones in his hand letting out a foreboding snap.

All was silent, save for several voices downstairs. All of whom were laughing.

He stood, examining his hand. Azunda was certain he did some sort of damage to it, though he was hardly in a state of mind to do anything about it. He proceeded downstairs, upon stepping on the ground floor, the laughter stopped. He examined the main hall, and found nothing. Azunda slowly walked through the place of worship. How he loathed it, a stage for robed men to prattle on about such trivialities and drivel as faith and methodology. He cringed as he walked through, carefully examining the room. The statues of the Lich Lords, Nizar, Azalin, Admoreth, Norture and even Darrien were missing.

Azunda approached the altar, staring at it's surface. Who was down here? He knew he heard laughter. He was certain. Was Darrien taunting him? Of course he was. Azunda knew full well what he heard.

"A bitter soul trapped in a mortal coil, amusing."

Azunda turned swiftly, five figures stood behind him. All of whom were obscured by shadow, their silhouettes barely noticeable. He braced himself, unsure of what to expect next.

"Guarded, we know this. We know why. You don't trust us."

He remained silent. He didn't know how to answer, nor what questions to ask. Either that, or he knew exactly what to ask. He just feared the answer.


"Your legacy is juxtapose to ours. Since the earliest days we have been two rivals struggling for dominance. Two legacies, Necromancer. Nearly a millenia of contention."

Azunda tried to speak, though he couldn't. Not a sound escaped his lips.

"Spare us, we know you. You do not know us."

"A... are you creatures of light or shadow?"

"If they were creatures of light they'd not know you."

Azunda turned to the direction of the new voice, and knew full well who was speaking to him. All turned to blackness, no points of light to guide him. Though without sight, he could finally see.

"This quest of yours has taken you in a very dangerous direction, hasn't it? What you want most is right in front of you, but you refuse to take it."

"..."

"Why? Is it ego? Fear of success? Fear of failure? None of these?"

"..."

"We both know the answer, I want to hear you say it. Not to me, but to yourself."

"..."

"Speak."

"Despite my best efforts, I don't understand the point. We toil, we study, we provoke, all to bring Sosaria to nothingness."

"It seems to me you do understand the point. There is no point. Not for you, not for the lich lord, not for Tyranthraxus. Not even the various kings, lords and peasants that build and create Sosaria."

"There is no point."

"We exist to unmake existence. Indeed, there is no point."

"There... really is no point."

"Knowing this simplifies the dilemma, does it not?"

"It does, but it answers nothing."

"Looking for answers solves nothing, you know this. Creating answers, however, is something within your sphere of influence."

The light returned to the room, and all of the figures had vanished. The statues were properly arranged, and Azunda couldn't be certain if what he experienced was real or not. Though now, he knew less than he thought he knew. The only certainty was that Azunda and Tyranthraxus would need to speak.
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