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[Jonathan Strathmore]

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Dancing across the faces in attendance, his eyes locked sight on the one man he prayed would sit before him this eve... And at the sight, the wedding was to begin.

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. I must extend to you my deepest gratitude that all of you could join me on this joyous and humbling occasion. I can assure every last one of you, all here are in for a special treat. This shall truly be a ... Night to remember."

With a smirk and a shift he turned toward the minister, as his bride stepped before him.

A single culmination following his already potent victories... Something to seal his place and pride, and an opportunity he was not about to miss. All was prepared and the snare set, he needed only wait for Myrddin ab'Arawn, the ever protective, and all too powerful Warmaster of Umbra to strike... And a strike did come.

-----

Confusion beset, and all was happening to plan as the stacked cake exploded raining shrapnel on the crowd.

The groom fell to sword on neck. A potion raised with shrouded man.

"So the Mighty Jonathan Strathmore is dead?" The voice of the groom booming from a man to the side. "Tsk, tsk. I should have thought a man of his standard would put up a better fight." Myrddin turned sharply and ordered Umbra at his heel as Jonathan lifted the hood from his very living form, holding the explosive tight.

Pausing not an instant, he gave it a shake to stir the mixture, and Myrddin lunged. In a flash the arm holding the potion hit the ground. Myrddin and Jon following it, both bleeding badly.

With clutch on eye, Myrddin fought to his feet, and Jon to his.

No balance, all faltered, he could not raise a crossbow with an off hand.

Willow lunged next, and in a turn Jon slung his cross bow and laid down a fire screen, darting out the door.

-----

His eyes glared at Aggie as he stumbled through the door, his anger not directed at her, but his fist cared not.

She stood rubbing her face, shouting at him in protest as he staggered down the stairs.

His eyes were heavy after the cauterization, and the blood she gave him barely helped. Though his strength, he was determined, would not falter. Jonathan Strathmore did not have the luxury of being mortal, he could afford no weakness.

"We'll make you a new arm, a better arm, Master." Her voice issued his anger once more and his retort was bitting.

"There is no better arm than the arm of Jonathan Strathmore!" His anger subsided again, and his thoughts focused.

"When next he sees me, my arm will be as it always was, and no difference will be of note. This is a lesson for he, not I. He will learn that he cannot touch, he cannot alter, and he cannot hinder Jonathan Strathmore."

With a smirk he turned to the door way, his ally, Elniad appeared. "I need schematics... I do not wish to start from scratch on this. There isn't enough time."

[Mairsil]

---

The events played through Myrddin's mind as if he had been submerged in water the entire time. His movements were slow, his senses were duller.

Splintered wood and metal shrapnel floated everywhere around him as the explosion still echoed far behind him. His eyes were on Strathmore, they were on his hand. They were on the explosive mixing before him.

The War Master's lunge impacted against flesh and bone, impaling the wrist of the man Myrddin hated most. He snarled as he did it, as he felt the resistance of Strathmore's arm giving way to his strength. It reflected the chorous of victorious shouts that only Myrddin could hear.

Now you DIE Strathmore! Today I am RID OF YOU! You plague my family no more!

But these were thoughts that never had the chance to reach his tongue, never to come to beautiful fruition.

He descended through the air with his enemy, but the hand he'd severed and the potion it clasped tightly reached cold stone first.

*********************************************

Myrddin started forward, growling out loudly as he nearly fell off the bed, his arm launching at a nearby bed post to stop himself.

He panted as he sat, anger consuming him as the smoke of the explosion never cleared from his vision.

After a long moment's reccoperation, Myrddin's hand moved to his face, grasping a cloth crusted with dried blood. Pulling it away changed nothing. Myrddin could not see that he was missing an eye, but he could feel it. He clutched the cloth tightly, staring at nothing with one eye, and blackness with the other. He briefly questioned if Strathmore sat as he did now, but the train of thought moved along quickly.

His one working eye roamed to the empty spot next to him on the bed, as did his hand still grasping the cloth.

He remembered seeing Dethn, though the sights he remembered in his state of blood loss the previous evening were spotty. But he remembered seeing him. His son was home, as was Tyranis.

That meant they had succeeded. Myrddin was proud..

But still.

He knew he wouldn't feel right until his eyes rested upon Shade once more.

Eye..Hmph
_________________
"You see I can not be forsaken, because I'm not the only one. We walk amongst you, beating, r#ping, must we hide from everyone?" - Jon Davis

[Nyxanna ab'Arawn]

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It had been a test on Nyxanna, she was Umbran true, she was ab'Arawn true, but who in their right mind would not be upset over the slow disinegration of a once close family? Not due to a fight, but one man, one family member, Jon Strathmore. It had hurt Nyxy so much to begin to realize, to understand that not all Grandfathers were created alike. That not all wanted to see the next generation glow and bloom as her grandfather Mairsil.

Mairsil had opened Nyxys eyes to the world and in the simple word *grandfather* had created an image of strength, nobility and for Nyxanna, ultimate love and sacrifice for those around you. So when Jon Strathmore had stepped into these similar shoes, that of *Grandfather*. Nyxanna had assumed in her naive way that this man to was much like the other.

Never had a girl been so wrong, and so hurt by her own misconception...

Confusion reigned, why had Jon Strathmore saved her life? Only to harm her brother, steal her mother and try to destroy her father? These questions she wanted answers to but they would remain unanswered.

Perhaps Nyxy you should reacquaint yourself with the term Fake...

As she sat watching the wedding not understanding why her grandfather would invite them open faced to his wedding he new they wanted to kill him, when he stood openly vulnerable to her fathers blade..It made no sense.

Then today was a lesson for Nyxanna in true mastermind, the learning of seeing that which was wholly unseen. The dark figure hidden in a corner, the innocense of a cake...that was filled with explosives. The trap that her father new was there but Nyxanna could not see.

So when his trap unfurled, when the heat of flames and a small bit of shrapnel lodged in her arm she was wholly surprised. Yes right away, the Jon Strahtmore, the groom, was cut down only reveal himself as a total fake. The dark figure from the corner stepping forth now seen now laughing with determined gleam of arrogance at his clever ruse. IT was all fake....

Like a well timed dance the bride dissapeared, the newly revealed grandfather moved a potion thru the air at her father and Nyxanna held herself with a choice. Her hand itching to destroy this minister who dared work for Strathmore or rush to the aid of badly wounded and bleeding father. She knew in her heart, her father would want the man killed, for her to ignore the blood pouring dripping on the ground. Then to give chase to Strathmore as he was greatly weakened by a severed arm. Yet her heart trembled and she could not deny who she was.

I may be and Umbran, I may be ab'Arawn, but I am his daughter and I will not lose another...So she turned and her heart broke as the sound of the priest escaping and making a hasty retreat, she knew the disappointmet that she would have to stare down when all realized the choice she made. She would see her father safely home...

She was Nyxanna and by the warmasters side, is where this small mage would be. As she stared down at the safe but exhausted Warmaster his eye oozing blood, she wanted to scream in the darkness.

She turned and her eyes blazing purple with a new emotion one she didnt understand but like a monster reared its head. Hate tore thru the joy that was Nyxy and her anger was palpable in the room. You are not my grandfather... you are a Strathmore, and I ab'Arawn

Sometimes there is nothing sadder than the loss of innocense and joy...

[Demetria]

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As the weeks passed since being attacked, Demetria’s mood continued its downward spiral. Every day seemed filled with anger and frustration, which had a wide variety of causes. Even before the unfortunate incident at the Chaos shrine, she had been feeling alienated and very separate from the Umbran family. It was true, that social norms were different in the city, and that many commonly accepted ideas had a much greater flexibility there. But despite hearing that Umbra was her family, she often looked around and saw the many blood relations and family ties, and found herself perpetually reminded how alone she felt most of the time.

Daily, she had more reminders of her solitary nature. The child unwanted. Given up at birth and left to the Heartwood elves to raise her, the very selfsame elves that would turn her out of their community at the age of eight years, because she behaved in the way that any troubled child would. She sought attention and love, and was denied anything positive. It seemed the only time she got attention was when she ‘acted up’. For Demetria that usually meant poisoning things of a communal nature: cups, dishes, flatware. Was it her fault she did so well in her potions classes?

Regardless of the past that she thought of as Before Umbra, she struggled daily to be all the things she perceived a child of Umbra ought to be. She tried to be strong and brave, and carry herself as any adult would—though she realized she often failed in that last area, she was ok with it; she knew she was still a child. For the time being, anyway.

During her convalescence, Demetria realized that the Umbran adults cared about her as much as any adult in the city would express such a thing. Even the Matriarch followed up and tracked her progress. Through it all, she realized with some horror, that some of the attention she received was not so much attention as scrutiny. They were afraid she would turn and be a true child of the night. It was certainly true that she had very little recollection of the attack at the shrine, and it was possible that she had been given the dark gift. Demetria marveled at the concern over this. It just went to prove that adults really were strange creatures.

But she had other concerns. Demetria had grown to suspect that maybe the grown-ups knew more than they said about the attack. She became convinced that they knew who it was, that it wasn’t the Cappodician’s responsibility. At training after training, the name Jon Strathmore came up. Umbrans, even the children, were on guard and told to use any and all means to bring him down. Could it possibly be related? she wondered. Wonder aside, she slowly became convinced there was some adult conspiracy to Keep Her In The Dark, as grown-ups were notorious for doing with children.

The concerns that belonged to the waif of a child were not atypical of the things any kid goes through. Suspecting adults conspiring, jealousy and envy, confusion about growing up, but these problems were her own and own them she did. She didn’t share her feelings or fears, because she was Umbran. In her mind that equated with never admitting feeling any sort of weakness, and wasn’t fear a weakness?

The night came for one of the many weekly meetings and trainings of her adopted city. She arrived prepared to do her best to learn whatever the masters and warlords were ready to teach. But there was a diversion, and it was explained to the handful of darklings sitting in the Sepulcher, and there would be no drills. It was a wedding they were going to, and not just any wedding. The Strathmore wedding! When the Warmaster told his charges to listen carefully at his following commands, the child leaned forward and listened with all her being.

A gate cast, the group one by one moved toward the Hall of Virtues under the Feluccan moon. The child took a seat, well away from her brethren and strangers. It was all she could do to not jump up and scream “Because he’s a bad bad man!” when the priest asked if there was any reason the bride and groom should not be joined. Somehow she held her counsel, and awaited Myrddin’s command.

Soon enough it came.

It was almost like watching herself from a distance, the way the strange sense of calm settled over her as she stood and lifted her bow. Hatred filled her, hatred for what this man was doing to the ab’Arawn family. Likewise, Demetria was filled with the thoughts that convinced her, still and again, that she too had suffered at this man’s hand.

Her fingers did not shake as she nocked a bolt into her crossbow. The aim was true and she struck with a powerful hit to the groom at the wedding altar. She fired again, and felt a joy unlike nothing she'd ever felt. Somehow, firing those bolts felt very much like getting even, and at that moment she couldn't care less if she was Getting Even with the wrong person.

Umbrans moved in on the groom, weapons raised for hand to hand combat. It did not take long for the man to crumple. Confusion reigned supreme.

In the mayhem, it did not become immediately clear that the felled man was a body double. Strathmore did his damage, and got away.

Again.

[Hermoine66]

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They watch their emeny Jon Startmore being marry to his bride , thinking soon he will be dead and not cause the ab'Arawn family no more pain. Wait for their warmaster signal to attack , they sit anxiously for it to be said. Then they heard him say attack , get the bride. Jump from the seat a guard step in their way to get the bride . "You are foolish one and now you died for trying to stop us," both of them say. Then Sia wipe out her sword and slice guard head off and at the same moment a lighten bolt hit the guard. As they couldnt see the bride anywhere they race back to help their warmaster. Then they saw a big explosion hit their warmaster face, in fear they rush over to him. Then they saw their warmaster got up and slice off Jon Stratmore arm. Then they saw him trying to escape they tried to catch him but he got out of their sight so went back to see how their warmaster is. They saw a huge whole in his face. Then heard Willow shout to follow her and search the city. So they search the city looking for a small trace of blood or anything that lead them to Jon. But couldnt find anything. So went back to the guild house and told Willow they couldnt find anything that lead to him. She sigh , but said to them, "Thanks and good job". Then suddenly Deathan they saw that been missing for awhile came run in. A tear run down both eyes seen how happy their warmaster , Willow, and Nyxanna is to see him. As they left after the warmaster dismissed them , Yia wisper to her sister " The warmaster will be alright , he is strong".