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[Ishmael Inuldesia]

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Ishmael had spent the last weeks in quiet contemplation at his Skara villa meditating and focusing himself-- practicing his sword forms in the quiet of his cellar-- holding back anger with his focus, focusing the anger into alertness and strength, becomming one with the blade and his surroundings. For hours he practiced in this fashion while thinking of his foes... and over what a man in a red robe had told him but a month before.

"Control... precision, direction... perfection.

Passion... emotion, feeling... harnessed by Control... anger focused... perfection.

Diligence... persistance pure... further focusing Passion... forcing beyond the limit... giving drive to focus... powering the void...

Order... giving sense to the senseless... greatest and least of all... the ultimate force in the universe."

He continued to practice for what seemed like days... a week... two... hardly stopping to eat and rest... focused on himself and his goals...

"I am ready."

A new look was in his eyes- a cold fire, burning with icy rage, focused and clear. He reached within himself, striving for the Sacred Journey, instead of reaching out to the Infinite. It worked, he was standing at the edge of a lake of molten rock. He tore off his surcoat in one motion, the heavy material seeming nothing in his hands. The extreme heat of this place didn't cause even the slightest perspiration.

He threw his surcoat into the fire and grasped the hilt of his Order Serpent marked blade while smiling.

"I follow a new power now..."