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[Tay Thormear]

---

Silhouettes of dancing flames flickered behind the hanging candles. A soft breeze swept through the tent causing the tent doors to flap. The sounds of war cries and drunken bandits were the only sounds that could be heard. It was a tradition to drink well the night before a battle. Beowulf hung over his desk, writing what could be the last journal entry he ever wrote.

The sounds I hear outside are the sounds of happiness and confidence. I suppose I can’t expect much more from a group of blood hungry bandits. Most of them are criminals and murderers, however some of them are quite nice once you get to know them.

I have never met a group of men so hungry for battle. I remember my days among the Dark Order militia. They fought hard, and strived for blood of their enemies. They only chose to fight when they had too though. The Legion was my only other home. Battle wasn’t as big of a deal among them; they tried not to fight even if they had to. Vaen, the greatest warrior to walk the Sosarian land, rarely had to use his sword, and neither did we.

These…barbarians outside of my tent fight for pleasure and because they crave it. I myself haven’t been the perfect man lately, nor have I ever. I too am a murderer, a fighter, but I do it for a different reason than the others. Each and every one of us fight for our own needs and morals, mine is to rid the land of what I like to think is scum. Some may call me a vigilantly, and some might call me an offspring of Oblivion.

The morning is fast approaching, and we’re about to fight a battle that I haven’t ever experienced before in my life. The Yew battle was one of the largest that I was apart of, along side with The Legion we fought through hordes of orc, the skulls, and even my prior militia, the Dark Order. However, the battle I am about to witness first hand is larger and much more of a serious matter.

The second Yew war was merely for control of Yew. This battle is for our lives, for our beliefs, and for us. As much as people enjoy fighting for a cause that may not even affect them, I fight for a cause that means everything to me. In the end, life is about you, and your decisions.

The people I fight beside may not remember me as a hero. I may not be remembered by anyone for being heroic, but a traitor, a cheater, everything a man shouldn’t be. I’ve made mistakes in my life that I wish I could take back in a blink of an eye, but life is a reality and so are my mistakes.

Recently I have been visiting Tatiana and my boy Grigori. He’s growing so quickly, I’ve missed so much of his life. That is one of my largest regrets, not being there for my son’s first steps, his first word. I hope to be there for other things, his first girlfriend, and his first quarrel with another child. Tatiana has taken care of herself very well also. She’s seemed quite happy each time I visited. She told me her and that Arakad fellow were quite fond of each other. I suppose I’m happy for her.

Suddenly the doors of the tent were thrown open. Someone stuck his head in and looked about, the figure finally stepped in noticing Beowulf. He was tall and broad; many scars covered his bare chest. Most would cower at the sight of this man, but not Beowulf.

“How ya doin’ wulfy?” He asked.

“I’m fine Vincent, I’m just trying to finish this before we leave.”

“Aye, the pirates are comin’ in by the water. Of course ye knew that, but a spy tol’ us that the pirates are secretly helpin’ the Karigans.”

Beowulf nodded slightly, and motioned toward the door.

“Alrigh’ try not to be to long. We’ll need yer magics out there soon enough.” Vincent turned and hurried back to the fire.

Beowulf continued to write to the end of the page.

Despite my lack of involvement, I wish to be there for my child. After this battle I’m going to move into Ms. Stars house like Tatiana suggested. This way I can be closer to my child, and keep an eye on both of them.

In life there are mistakes. I do not wish to be one of them.

Beowulf Thormear.

Beowulf closed the book and slipped it into a leather pack. It crumpled a piece of rolled up parchment that he had written previously to the journal entry.

As Vincent had told him, the pirates indeed were helping their enemies. During the night an ambush was made on the camp in which Beowulf and his acquaintances occupied. It hadn’t taken long for the group of barbarians, bandits and the sort to grab hold of their weapons.

Beowulf emerged from his tent, fireballs blazing from his palms. He didn’t wait for commands to be shouted, he didn’t wait for the rest of the mercenaries to get to the camp on horseback. By the time the rest of the fighters were equipped and in the battle, Beowulf was already in the midst of danger. His sword worked fiercely cutting through torsos.

A metal gauntlet caught the side of his face, sending Beowulf skidding to the side. He turned to face the new foe, the one with the mace. The two met hand to hand, the foe’s blows were substantially stronger than Beowulfs, but he parried as many as possible. His cutlass moved quickly, and as fast as he could speak he casted spells of healing for his comrades and himself. He felt the mace clip his soldier and he skidded to the right. He turned quickly to strike, that’s when he felt the pierce.

Beowulf glanced down to his stomach; the head of the spear was impaled right through him. He frowned slightly at the sight of his blood. He held his shield up to block as many of the blows from the mace wielder as possible. The longer he stood there, the more blood that dripped from his torso and the weaker he felt. Shortly after he fell to the ground, and laid gasping for breath.

“Grigor….” Was the last form of a word he spoke before his life was cut short. He hadn’t died a hero for anyone else but himself.

[Tay Thormear]

---

Beowulf had placed the leather pack in a chest beside his bed. Inside the chest there laid three weapons, a crytsal, two skulls, the rolled up parchment and his journal. The chest was magically locked, and only unlocked to the touch of Beowulfs finger tips and his death.

Upon the moment of Beowulfs death, the chest unlocked.

The battle had ended, the Karigans and pirates were fought off. Mercenarys arrived shortly after Beowulfs fall, they quickly helped defend the camp the people in it.

Vincent walked over to the corpse of Beowulf. He looked down and frowned at the sight, he kneeled slightly and grasped the spear. Quickly he pulled it from Beowulfs torso. He put an arm under Beo's neck and legs and lifted him from the ground.

Vincent walked through the camp carrying Beowulf straight towards his tent. People moved quickly, noticing the fall of the of their only mages. Vincent opened the doors of the tent and placed Beowulf upon the bed.

He looked to his right and noticed the unlocked chest. He sighed quietly and went over to it. He looked through the books and items. Finally he grapped the parchment and unrolled it. At the top of the parchment it read "My Will". He began to read it outloud to himself.

I write this on behalf of myself, Beowulf Thormear. The items in this chest will go to those that they are directed to. If my will is being read, it means I didn't survive the battle. Although it was a large battle, I was no hero and won't be remembered for my death.

Shortly before the battle, I lost most of my possessions, the things that meant most to me were stripped from me. I leave what I have left to my son, my wife, and my close friends.

Grigori: To my son. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you more often in your early years. It was just before I parished that I had started visitng you and your mother more often. All I can do is wish you the best in life and give you my words of advice.

Never physically hurt a lady. Respect yourelders. Fighter wirth pride, strength, and your life. The only thing to fear is fear itself. Remember these two words "Carpe Diem". Sieze the day.

To you my son, I leave five things;

First is a spear. Carry the spear with pride, no matter what you choose to do with your skills, you can always use it.

The next is a bone harvester and a skinning knife. You can use both whether you choose to be a warrior or a craftsmen.

Finally, I leave to you two skulls. One of power and one of death. If you can hold death in the grasp of your hand, you have nothing to fear. IF you hold power in your hands, you have no need for weakness.

Be strong my son.

Ceinwyn: All though we haven't exchanged words for a very long time, my thoughts are still with you. To you, I leave a crystal. The crystal I used to connect with the underworld when I myself was a necromancer many, many moons ago.

Ivae: I'm not sure if your still alive because of our lack of communication. If you are however, to you I leave the garden of my home. Surely it'll be taken from my because of my death. Charish it as you can however.

Tatiana: You were my first love, and my first wife. I leave to you, my agreement and signature to a divorce. It came to my attention even though we split up it wasn't offically recorded. I want you to beable to share your heart with another, if the time is right for you.

I leave my soul to you, to with it as you wish. Thank you for your help, and everything you ever did for my sake. My love will always be with you, for I will always love you.

For the person who finds this, I ask that you alert the people on this life that they have been put in my will. Deliver my body, and this chest to which ever one wish's to bury me.

Beowulf Thormear

[Starfire]

---

Tatiana stood in the workshop sewing on some goods needed by the merchants in town when she felt a sudden pang of pain and regret. Startled, she looked about and checked on her son. He was safely playing near her. Puzzled, she checked about once again, and went back to work.
The next day, as she finished, one of Miss Star's servants came up to tell her she had a messenger downstairs. She told Grigori to keep working on his counting and went downstairs. She arrived at the foot of the stairs to see a rather disreputable man standing in the hall. He looked tired and weary. Guilt panged through her and she hastened to make the messenger welcome.
"My apologies good sir, we do not often get messengers here. Come upstairs and have seat while I fetch some food and drink for you."
Startled, the man tugged his hat off his head and said, "are you Tatiana Thormear?"
Tatiana turned at the name and nodded her head a bit pale. "I have been known by that name, yes, sir. "
The man bowed his head a bit, "I have to give you some things and some bad news."
Tatiana collapsed onto the stairs dreading the next words.
"The man, Beowulf, he. . . . he was killed in battle, fighting off pirates. He asked me to give his few possesions to some people named in his will, his son, you, others, and. . and to see if any would bury him."
Silent tears trickled down her cheeks as she listened to the man speak. It was as though she heard the words and yet did not, a sort of numbness seizing her. Tatiana looked to the man, "he didn't suffer much did he?"
The messenger shook his head no. "T'was a quick end."
Nodding her head, Tatiana gathered herself together, not even realizing the tears still stained her cheeks. "Come get some food and drink, then I will go with you to gather his remains.." here she faltered a bit and sobs struck her, "and have him buried," she smiled softly, " I know the place he would love."
The man followed Tatiana upstairs and sat down at one of the tables while she gathered him food and drink. "I need to go get my son and.... make arrangements for him while I am away." Tatiana hastened out of the room and rushed to her son's side. She fell to her knees and hugged him tightly.
"How come you're crying, mommy?"
Brushing his hair out of his eyes for what seemed the hundreth time that day, she spoke softly. "I have to go away for a few days, and I have to tell you," looking at him sadly, "how do I tell you, your father, he. . . he" taking a deep breath, " he died in battle. I have to go gather his remains and we will put him to rest in a special place. He will rest easy there."
The child looked at her, "daddy won't come by anymore?"
She shook her head sadly. "I am afraid not. But he left some of his things for you when you get older and he loved you very much." Brushing the hair from his eyes yet again, she kissed his forehead. "I will be leaving you with Miss Star for a few days but I will be back before you know it."
Tatiana kissed her son on the cheek once more, then left to ask Miss Star to watch him while she was gone. She quickly changed into her traveling clothes and went back downstairs. "As soon as I gather Knight, I will be ready to travel."
The man nodded, wiping the last of the food and drink from his lips, stood up, and followed Tatiana next door to the workshop where Knight was stabled.

Four weary days later, she returned home. The mercenary named Vincent, had helped her get Beowulf's remains to the place where he had asked her to marry him. It was a special spot and should make his soul rest easy at last. She had debated on whether Grigori should go or not but decided in the end, that it would probably be better if he just came to visit. Clutching Beowulf's journal to her chest, she went upstairs to see her son, kiss him, and put the journal away for the time when Grigori would be old enough to accept and understand it.
_________________
aka: Tatiana Thorn nee Alexi; Summer Kane; Ivory Skyfire; and others

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

---

Ceinwyn stood, just inside the treeline, watching as Tatiana had Beowulf buried, for the second time.

She looked on, silently, studying Tatiana. Flashbacks from the previous evening invaded her mind.

'"Beowulf Thormear has died in battle, fighting pirates. He has a note for you, and an item."'

'"Ceinwyn: All though we haven't exchanged words for a very long time, my thoughts are still with you. To you, I leave a crystal. The crystal I used to connect with the underworld when I myself was a necromancer many, many moons ago."'

The shadows lengthened around her as she waited for Tatiana to leave. Dusk came, and with it, the night sounds as she finally finished her private mourning. As she was leaving, Ceinwyn shrunk back into the treeline, even further, to ensure that she wasn't seen. Then, when all was clear, and footsteps had not been heard for 5 minutes, she emerged from her hiding place and approached the fresh grave.

She looked around at the pillars and wondered why Tatiana had chosen this place. The druids came here quite often for rituals, and it was considered holy ground to them. Indeed, as she stood there, she could feel her skin tingle. She willed her skin to chill and harden against the holy magic, hoping the frost would somehow protect her flesh. She did not have alot of time here, as Tatiana had. Soon, the magics of the place would break her resistance.

Taking the crystal from her pack, she gazed at it, then to the grave.

'" The crystal I used to connect with the underworld..."'

She looked back to the crystal.

"Beowulf... you went out in battle. No self-beheading, this time..."

She strode around the fresh plot, memories of Beowulf in her mind. So few were the static thoughts she had, she valued the moments of calm in her mind.

Images of Beowulf, the first time, when he had killed himself in Dark Cove. Remembering herself denouncing him as a traitor. Feeling once again the hatred that she had held for this man, because of his weakness.
That he had seemed to abandon the whole Order. That he had left behind his protegee, her lessons incomplete. His return to Life, and his sudden change of heart. His siding with the enemy, The Legion. The Battle of Yew, where he rode and fought beside the detested Vaen Swiftar, purely to spite Lord Taro. So many memories from those times.

She recalled how he had approached her when she, herself, had joined The Legion. One of the few that didn't outright suspect her of hidden motives. Then, when things had gone sour, he had been the only person she could turn to. The only person who truly understood. The only person whose temper had ever matched hers. The hidden emotions he chose to reveal to her, to her surprise, one day.

The gift of the dress, the cloak, and now, the crystal.

Her eyes returned to the crystal.

"You wanted him to be a warrior, like yourself. I shall do what I can to carry out this task, no matter the cost."

She could see bits of smoke starting to surround her, rising from the holy soil. It was time to go. But, one last thing, first.

She placed the crystal on the ground, directly on top of the soil above where Beowulf's heart would be. She then began to chant.

"Anh Mi Sah Ko"

And while the spirit essence was in transit, she chanted again.

"Ort Corp Grav"

Halting it's progress toward her.

"Por Uus Xen Jux Xen Grav Vas Ort."

She holds the crystal up, offering it to the spirit-essence. It is called to the crystal by the spell of binding and pours into it in a funnel of blinding light. She cradles the crystal to her and steals away from the sacred place.

[Tay Thormear]

---

It was a paradise, a place for heros and kings. Figures floated around in white robes, and were physically perfect. It was bright and peaceful, fluffy white clouds and anything that was loved and adored could be seen. He sat in a marble chair with a vine of grapes draped over head. Wine's of all kind spread out before him. He was truely happy..."This isn't right.." he thought.

Flames erupted around the marble chair and the clouds faded and turned to coal. The figures in white robes flashed and suddenly became imps and other demonic creatures. Everything loved and adored became everything of sadness and pain. He now sat on a chair of thorns, the vine of grapes wrapped around his neck. Imps jumped in glee and taunted the man, poking and stabbing him. Knawing on his flesh, they tore skin from his body. It regenerated as quickly as it was ripped, allowing the torture to continue on for infinite time. This was not heaven. This was hell.

Tatiana walked slowly towards him, baby Grigori in her arms. She smiled slightly at him, he tried to yell for her to turn and run. His voice was torn and rough, he couldn't yell. He could only watch as the two were surrounded by hell hounds and devoured in front of him. He knew deep down it wasn't really his ex wife and his child, just figures to torture him, it didn't ease the pain of sight though.

Words began to echo off the melting walls. The rivers of lava, and the ground of burning coal began to shake violently. The imps began running around franticly. "Tym Sanct Mani An Sar" The words shook the immediate area that he was in. His body slowly rose from the chair, his bindings pulling tightly on him, but eventually giving out. His spirit was suddenly tugged like a cow in a tornado upwards. He slammed hard into his body.

* * *

A hind ate the grass in the forest of Britain peacefully. It felt safe in the middle of the marble pillars that rose out of the ground. A haven for all the animals.

* * *

Maggots and worms slithered along his fleshless face. He began to panic and threw his arms upwards trying to dig out. He erupted suddenly from his grave, thankfully not dug much more than three feet down. He fell to his hands and knees and franticly wipped the maggots off his face.

* * *

The hind lept back suddenly. It's eyes wide opened at the sudden sight of the erupting corpse. The hiddious figure and the maggots dropping from his face. The hind shook slightly and only plopping could be heard from behind it. Quickly the animal turned and ran into the forest, leaving the man and it's droppings behind.

* * *

Beowulf Thormear rose to his feet and screamed at the top of his lungs. How happy he was that he was no longer in the binds of hell. How enraged he had became when he realized that his flesh had decayed over the three years that he had been burried.

* * *

Smokey, Beowulfs daughter from the Underworld sailed across the ocean away from Legion Island. A smile crept across her face. "Foolish child, it wasn't a spell to speak to his fathers spirit, it was a spell to immediately ressurect the fallen warrior."

[Tay Thormear]

---

Beowulf suddenly fell to the ground, with no strength. A figure stepped from the shadows and walked towards Beowulf. It looked down at the body and nodded slightly. Reaching down the mysterious figure dragged Beo's corpse into the forest and away.