Chapter One of Two.

She screams into the night as I make my incision, cutting deep into her lower
abdomen with a single steel scalpel. Struggling against her bonds, she cries as
I invade her, peering deep within her bloodied gut for some clue, some hint as
to what made her tick. The scent of decay meets my nostrils as I stalk around
the room, searching for.....ah. I grab up a chipped obsidian bowl and use it to
scoop out the intestines, pushing them out of the way as I ponder my task before
me.

Mumbling a quick prayer to the Forbidden, I extract the liver from her and she
shudders quietly. I place it on a nearby brass scale, making a notation of
weight and colouring. She groans, and I chuckle before turning back to her.

"Don't die just yet, little frog. I'm not quite done with ..." but before I can
finish my statement, she expires and I'm left with nothing to work with. Thrice
damned weak mugwumpi. A tap at my door, and I walk to open it.

"Master Lithas! I heard a scream, is everything well?"

I chuckled quietly. I do so love inquisitive servants. I pondered the young
aslaran before me.

"Of course.....", I trailed off, waiting for a name.

"Mria, my lord." she says, eyes downcast as she curtsies.

I didn't recognize the name. Probably the by-product of a serving wench, and
likely not to be missed. I smiled softly and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Mria, would you like to help me with a small experiment later on?"

She blanches and jerks away ever so slightly, obviously familiar with my
obsession and the methods. I glance at her widened eyes and smirk, gesturing
towards the still warm corpse upon the dais behind me.

"clean that up, and mop the floor before you go."

I watch her work, tendons stretching and pulling as she bends and moves. She
grimaces as she pulls the corpse to the floor, dragging it out the door and
dumping it into a chute for trash and offal. Her heart beats fast as she glances
at me in fear, moving away to finish her work. Nothing I haven't seen before. We
mortals are nothing more than bags of flesh and blood bound in a thin shell. Yet
we are capable of such interesting things. Art, literature, music, poetry, mass
genocide. What makes us work, what allows our brain to comprehend such wonders?
Divine spark, or merely electric impulses in the brain, I had no clue. But I
hungered, I wanted the knowledge. What drives a man, makes him want or need, or
desire? Why does one man rise to power, and another strive for nothing? What
truly makes us create and destroy, makes us different from the animals?

Petrified staff in hand, I strode out of my chamber and into the night air.
Quickly crossing the ramparts and into the main part of my small home, not an
eye rose to meet mine, lest they be asked to "assist" in my testing. Bah, weak
minded simpletons, the lot of them. Passing through the dinner hall, I waved
away a servant offering me a bit of food and I strode off into the night
seeking....I'm not entirely sure what.

I stalked through the city, to the North Gate and into the graveyard, where so
many of my failed attempts had been tossed into an unmarked pit. At the edge was
a small monument of obsidian enveloped in cold blue flame; a shrine to Lord
Raezon. I kneeled before it, pulling a short knife from a leg sheathe and
drawing it across my palm. Squeezing my life's essence out upon the shrine, I
offered my strength to my god, in hopes that He listened.

"Lord, I seek Your wisdom. The tests, the trials, they show me little I do not
already know. Many I have sacrificed to reach my goals, but I fear there are too
little mortals in the Basin to teach me what I seek."

My skin prickled as the temprature suddenly dropped. My breath, a foggy
reminder of my own mortality, blew out in ragged bursts. A soft voice spoke from
the aethers somewhere above my head, and I blinked.

"Lithas, is it really all that hard?"

I smiled, somewhat suprised that He would deign to speak with me personally.
"Lord, I'm honoured. Where do I go from here? It doesn't seem like my research
is bearing fruit, and the Slave Market is growing rather scarce. It seems as
though I'm no closer than...."

A sudden strike of lightening hit not inches away from my kneeling form,
blowing me back a few metres or so. The acrid stench of ozone filled the air as
the voice changed to a mocking tone.

"Despair is so unbecoming of you, Lithas. Perhaps I should have left you crying
in the darkness so long ago, instead of picking you up and giving you a
purpose."

I sighed deeply.

"What was that, Lithas?"

"Nothing, Lord Forbidden. I will work harder to find out what I seek."

A soft chuckle emanated from around me, and I knew I had amused Him in some
small way. I picked myself up and dusted off my robes, before offering a
perfunctory bow to the shrine. Turning to leave, mocking laughter filled my
ears, so unlike my Master. I thought nothing of it with my mind on other
matters.

Walking the streets of Magnagora, my thoughts were dark company in the night. I
had done everything, anything I could to discover that spark, that... something,
which drove us. A shadow from a nearby corner beckoned, and I pulled up short.

"My Master knows that which you seek, earthen dabbler."

I narrowed my eyes at this apparition in the gloom. Hidden except for the hands
so thin as to be skeletal, this person or creature had obviously not eaten nor
bathed in some time. I pulled some coins from my belt to toss, but it stopped me
with a hiss. "Keep your pittance, viscanti. My Lord feeds me from the scraps of
His table, I need not for your pitiful coinage."

Filthy bugger, I could almost smell the decay coming from him. Swearing softly
to myself, I tucked my coins away as I listened intently to whoever...or
whatever... this was.

As if reciting from my own personal diary, the creature hissed out these words,
"What makes us sentient, hrm? What makes an aslaran more than an alley cat, a
taurian more than a rutting bull out in the fields?"

At this I scowled heavily. How the Nil did this thing know my words? I drew
closer, peering into the shadows at this too-knowledgable servant. The light
from a passing lantern held by the entourage for some random noble spilled into
the alley, throwing the figure into sharp relief. Maggots spilled from the
things body, and its very face was disfigured with some sort of gilded mask,
seemingly bolted on. I knew in an instant Whose this servant was.

"What does the Masque want of me, mummer? I serve the Azure Flame, and nothing
would make me join Fain's sanguine coterie."

"There is very little that He doesn't already have, mage. All He asks for now
is an oath binding you to Him should He require your hand in a matter."

I smirked. Lord Fain would never make things so easy, there would always be
some sort of hook. One danced carefully in the Waltz, or the misstep could be
fatal. "I'll not serve Him in any way against my Lord, nor harming my own
family. Other than that, He has my oath."

The mummers dead eyes flared crimson for a brief instant, then reverted to the
usual dead black. Taking a small red scroll from beneath a tattered tunic, he
tossed it to me with a wry grin and disappeared into the night. Examining the
scroll, a small red pawn stood in stark relief against a blot of golden wax to
seal the scroll.

I ran off into the gloom, dashing towards my manor as quick as my legs would
run. What aid... or horrors.. could this scroll hold? And what price would I pay
in order to learn it?

Across a distance very few mortals could concieve, much less travel;

At the chessboard, two dark figures stood across from each other contemplating
the next move. A harsh voice rang out from one, echoing out from behind a steel
mask.

"I do believe it is Your move, Raezon."