"Keep that cloth tied tightly around it for a full day," the stocky old
Dragoon said, leaning against a massive iron hammer. "I can't guarantee
it'll be a very sturdy weapon, seeing how old that sword is and how odd the
blade is, but given time to set properly, it should hold."

Kyle nodded to the blacksmith, testing the balance of his new weapon. After
everything left in the Excelsior's armory had been salvaged, the
weaponsmith, being one of the Dragoons to side with the ex-Captain, had
offered to reforge his Ashura blade into a new naginata. After a brief
hesitation, Kyle had agreed, and the old soldier had quickly disassembled
the ancient sword and reset the blade in a six-foot mithril shaft, using the
original hilt parts as the bracing and buttcap for the new weapon.
"Excellent work, Tyron," Kyle said. "This should serve me well."

"Aye, that it should. I just hope you'll use it to serve the Dragoons well."
The old blacksmith sighed as he looked around the extensive camp. Rough
canvas tents had been pitched, and there was a clear division even in the
placement of campsites...the Dragoons who had chosen to defect had pitched
tents around the crashed Excelsior, which Kyle had claimed as a base of
operations, while those who remained adamant in their support of the Church
had formed something of a living barricade between Kyle's camp and the route
to Tienne...as though daring the excommunicated soldier to attempt a return
to the holy city. Those whose loyalties were undecided, as well as those who
simply didn't care anymore, had scattered themselves haphazardly around the
area.

Kyle nodded grimly, giving the older man a hearty pat on the shoulder.
"Everything's going to work out right. I...I can't quite say how, exactly,
but...somehow, we'll all work through this." He frowned. "The important
thing right now is to organize a return to Tienne. Regardless of how we feel
about the Church, or how...certain among us feel toward one another, we MUST
protect the innocent people who are going to get caught in the crossfire of
all this."

"Pretty speech, lad. Practicin' it before ya give it ta the whole bloody
mess?"

Kyle jumped, and turned to face Jil. "I see being on the front line of two
different wars at once hasn't tempered your wit any," he said with a wry
grin.

Jil chuckled. "Sometimes ye've got ta laugh in th' face o'
danger...lit'rally."

Kyle nodded. "Still, we need to make some serious plans...and fast. At this
point, it's going to take everything we've got to prevent a tragedy of the
worst kind." He absently fingered a small sheaf of scrolls he'd been
carrying around since earlier in the day. "Everything..." He grimaced,
remembering what had transpired just before Marcine had left...


          ******


"Kyle...I know..." Marcine began as the group was about to leave. She
paused, then simply pressed a handful of scrolls tied with a ribbon to her
brother. "Look...just keep these handy. Just in case." She had then turned
to leave.

Kyle had glanced at the scrolls, and had almost destroyed them when he
realized what they were. And yet...

*Just in case...*


          ******


*I hope it doesn't come to that,* Kyle told himself, frowning.

"Kyle! We have a problem!"

Kyle grimaced as Reill ran up to him. "Tell me something I don't know," he
muttered.

"Tienne is under attack! The Manakyr are there in full force!"

Kyle cursed. "Looks like time just ran out. Alright...try to gather everyone
together. Everyone, move it! We don't have a second to spare!"

In under a minute, with effort, Kyle and his 'command crew' had managed to
get all the Dragoons to assemble. There were looks of suspicion, hatred,
resignation, and weariness in the crowd. Once everyone had settled, Kyle
drew in a deep, steadying breath, then began his address.

"We're...in a difficult situation here," he said, "and I know that at this
moment, many of us are not entirely certain where our loyalties lie." He
paused. "However, regardless of our individual feelings at the
moment...there is a greater concern which now faces us.

"Tienne, the city which is home for many of us, the city in which our
families and friends live, is under attack." He overheard some choice
muttering in the crowd, and frowned. "Some of you believe me to have sided
with the Manakyr. I have done no such thing. However, my personal beliefs
are irrelevant...the fact is, many innocent lives will be lost if Tienne
falls. The Manakyr will burn the city to the ground to advance their war
against the Church, heedless of those in the city who wish simply to live
their lives in peace."

He paused for a moment. "Regardless of our feelings, we must do our duty as
soldiers...we must protect the innocent people from falling victim to this
war. I do not expect all of you to follow me into battle. However, I ask
that those who will not follow me, do not stand in my way." He eyed the
crowd for a moment. "We form up and march toward Tienne in five minutes.
Those who would follow me into the firestorm, be ready at arms. Those who
would stay here, do not attempt to prevent the rest of us from leaving."
That said, he walked back to his tent to gather his gear.


          ******


"I trust you know what to do," Madonna said, addressing the Manakyr Caller
standing at the observation window.

The younger man nodded. "We've been preparing for this day for ages. Once we
are within the city, nothing can stop us."

Madonna smirked. "Be careful with that expression. It has a tendency to doom
people." She stood silent for a moment. "The primary obstacles to our
success will be the High Priest and the old prototype GOLeMs. I shall
venture ahead to eliminate any serious...resistance." With that, the Wind
Knight vanished.

The Summoner turned from the view of the approaching city to examine the
shining black orb mounted on a pedestal behind him. "The hour is almost at
hand...Darovan will be reborn this day."


                 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


                   FINAL FANTASY LEGACY
                   Knights of the Round

                Created by Brian Stricklin
          This chapter by The Eternal Lost Lurker
                 (with material by Demota)

             Chapter 34: Revelation and Jihad


                 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


One of KRAKEN's gigantic silvery tentacles wriggled its way to the mast,
wrapping around it. The tentacles tensed, then swung, catapulting the
prototype GOLeM up to the deck. The mechanical terror known as KRAKEN stood
still for a brief moment, then its tentacles spread out in a circular
pattern, giving the party a clear look at the head of the machine. A large,
red metal orb rested in the center, glowing ominously as it slowly scanned
the area, attempting to find the position of its targets.

The bulbous monstrosity clicked and whirred, focusing on Davin. One tentacle
immediately swung with crushing force, smashing into Davin's upraised
shield. The force of the blow launched him backwards, slamming him into the
deck, the planks underneath him cracking from the force of his landing.
KRAKEN extended another of its gleaming appendages, then thrust the end down
toward Davin, the needle tip ready to impale him.

"Untamed ferocity, drawn from the limitless skies above!  DiBolt!"

A streak of lightning erupted from the heavens, striking one of the
outstretched tentacles behind KRAKEN. Energy quickly traveled up the metal
and flowed into the head of the machine. For a moment, its tentacles
spasmed, immediately drawing its full attention to the source of the magic,
aborting the termination of its current target. It scanned the area, then
immediately raised another tentacle. A stream of highly pressurized water
flew from the tip of the appendage, thundering towards Marcine. She
desperately threw herself to the side, and the stream flew past her,
smashing through the wall behind her.

Davin leapt to his feet, thrusting the Ashura Blade into the nearest
tentacle. The sound of metal striking metal tore through the air as the
blade was driven halfway into the appendage. The pressurized water rushed
towards the crack in the armor and exploded outwards,
sending oil flying everywhere for an instant, then water began to rip
through the crack. The tentacle flailed, throwing Davin across the ship.

A mechanical beak suddenly lowered from beneath KRAKEN, rapidly elevating it
slightly above the deck. KRAKEN did a quick spin, its outstretched tentacles
flailing wildly. Shizuka instantly dove to the deck. Marcine stepped back,
just barely dodging the tip of the tentacle. Mika, however, was nowhere near
as fortunate. The hard metal slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind out
of her. She was sent flying through the air like a rag doll as the others
watched in shock. Mika spun helplessly as she sailed overboard.

"Mika!" Davin shouted as he dashed to the side to save the girl. Suddenly, a
large
tentacle slammed into him from above, pinning him down, preventing him from
reaching Mika. He struggled, helpless to save the girl from plunging into
the sea. Her image suddenly semmed to blur, then dissapeared. Shizuka
suddenly appeared next to Marcine, holding Mika.

"This one will not fail again," she stated firmly, looking straight into
KRAKEN's eye. She lay Mika down, then raised her blade. Shizuka charged at
KRAKEN, straight up the tentacle that had been disabled by Davin. She leapt
into the air, then swung it downwards with all her strength. She stood on
top of the GOLeM and started slashing rapidly at the head. At first, nothing
seemed to happen. Then, the metal started to show scratches, then finally, a
weak spot
was carved out, the metal thin from repeated slices. Shizuka raised her
arms, then thrust the sword into KRAKEN. The blade drove its way through the
armor of the prototype GOLeM, almost penetrating to the outer core. Sparks
and water began to erupt from the opening, as KRAKEN swung its tentacles in
an attempt to throw her off.

The GOLeM recognized the target sitting on top of it as an immediate threat,
and swung its tentacles out again, wrapping them around the young ninja and
flinging her at the injured Mika and Marcine, who had been attempting to
heal Mika's wounds. The three girls went down in a pile of tangled limbs,
and KRAKEN stalked toward them, red eye gleaming malevolently...


          ******


Kyle observed the ranks of Dragoons assembled, and smiled to himself. Less
than a fourth of the soldiers in the encampment had elected to stay behind.
None of them showed any signs of interfering.

"Right. Now, double-time to Tienne..."

He trailed off as a great roaring and pounding shook the valley. The
Dragoons began murmuring, unsure of what to expect.

A cloud of dust on the horizon slowly revealed an army of robed mages
approaching, mixed with a pack of mangy blue beasts.

"Great. Just great," Kyle muttered.

"The Manakyr! The bastard led them right to us! It's an ambush!" someone in
the Dragoon camp yelled.

"Don't be daft, man! Would he go ta th' trouble o' gettin' ye all ta take up
arms if he meant ta have ye all die?" Jil shouted back.

"Everyone, TO ATTENTION!" Kyle roared. "The enemy has brought the war to us!
We're going to have to go through them to get to Tienne!"

After a moment's hesitation, roughly half the Dragoons charged. The
remaining half milled about in confusion for a moment, and slowly began
entering the fray. The battle was joined.


          ******


Madonna approached the holy city from the north side. She would have
preferred to transport herself directly to the grand cathedral, but a series
of intricate wards built into the walls of the city prohibited such an act.

The Wind Knight expected one of the Church's bothersome GOLeMs to be on
patrol here, in the event the Manakyr attempted to surround Tienne. She
wasn't disappointed. The ground shook, cracks forming and boulders flying as
a massive metallic serpent erupted from the earth. Focusing its glowing red
eyes on her, LICH bore its fangs, emitting a screech that literally rent
gashes in the earth.

Madonna sighed. "How droll." Drawing her sword, she harnessed her matron
element, and began swinging the curved blade in a random, chaotic pattern
before her.

LICH screeched, the light dying in its crimson eyes as it fell to the ground
in pieces.

Smirking, Madonna continued on her way.


          ******


Lambert glanced up from his reports, and frowned. "You dare return, despite
your failure?"

The man standing before the High Priest's desk was grim, weary, and perhaps
in the worst mood Lambert had ever seen him in. Armand Cavanaugh gave the
old priest a long-suffering glance. "The city is under seige. You can't
afford to waste manpower."

"I can't afford to put my faith in a failure, either," Lambert said gruffly.
He then sighed. "Still, in light of...various events..." He shook his head.
"It's time to evacuate the city," he said at length.

Armand nodded. "The Manakyr are attacking from the east and the south. We
can herd the population out the north gates, and to the west. The Manakyr
won't go after the citizens. They're only after one thing, and we both know
what that is."

Lambert nodded grimly. "They must not be allowed to succeed."

"But they will succeed," a voice echoed from around them.

The two men looked up. "What the hell?"

"That came from the great hall," Lambert said, rising from his desk. The two
men rushed out...


          ******


Stine glanced down from the pass, and saw chaos.

A large contingent of Dragoons were engaged in battle with a small army of
Manakyr mages and those accursed blue beasts. Despite the odds, the Dragoons
were faring for the worse; bolts of magic lanced out, cutting a swath
through the crimson-armored warriors, leaving unconscious bodies for the
Atma beasts to finish off.

"This cannot be allowed to continue!" Stine growled. "I must aid my fellow
enforcers of justice in dispatching these heretics!" With a mighty war cry,
Stine vaulted from the pass, throwing himself into the fray.


          ******


Despite the damage it had taken, KRAKEN seemed to have the upper hand,
having successfully incapacitated everyone on deck. Marcine wondered if this
was to be her fate...

*No, child. You will not die today.*

Marcine blinked. *Who's...?*

*You have felt my presence; you know who I am. You hold my power; call me
and I will aid you. It is not your time to leave this world. You and your
friends have much left to accomplish.*

Marcine nodded to herself, then squeezed her free hand into her pouch,
withdrawing the amber orb there. Closing her eyes, she concentrated,
speaking the words that filled her mind.

"Sage of sages, keeper of the wisdom of endless time, father of the
storm...I call to thee. I beseech thee, bring the swift punishment of nature
to those which are found wanting. Decreed by thine hand, the sentence from
on high...Judgement Bolt!"

The skies boiled with thick, black clouds. Lightning churned, rolled, and
crackled through the dark heavens, ringing a vortex which formed in the
center of the storm. An ancient man in impeccable golden robes descended
from the clouds, a crackling staff in his hand. Lightning surged and sparked
around him as he threw the staff down, piercing the GOLeM below. The
machine's victims were whisked to safety barely an instant before the full
fury of the storm was unleashed, pouring into the mighty staff, overloading
KRAKEN. The octopoid automaton writhed and spasmed as the lightning surged
through its body, before exploding in a fabulous shower of fire, sparks, and
metal. The ship and crew were miraculously unharmed, and found themselves
scattered about on the deck, with the sky clearing above them.

Davin blinked. "Nice work, Marcine."

Marcine breathed a sigh of relief. "That's one down. Now, we've got to get
into the city, and fast!"


          ******


Madonna smirked. "How fortuitous. I find the High Priest himself,
unprotected save for a lone Dragoon. This will be easier than I thought."

Lambert raised an eyebrow. "I had heard tell of a rogue Knight. Have you
come for your brother in arms? Or for Darovan? Or perhaps both?"

Madonna remained silent.

Lambert shrugged. "It doesn't matter, really. Either way, you die here."

Madonna laughed daintily. "Me? The Knight of Wind? Die at the hands of an
overweight old fool and a Dragoon that looks more like a whore's handbag
than a soldier? You amuse me, priest." She drew her sword casually. "Pray
your last to your gods. You will be joining them soon."

Lambert smiled, and raised one hand. "Fierce power of nature, absolute raw
anger of the heavens, unleash destruction upon all infidels! TriBolt!"


          ******


Kyle cursed as a man to his left fell to the ground dead, body half-encased
in frost.

"We're not doing very well, Kyle," Reill said.

"You're becoming a master of stating the obvious," Kyle grunted as he
parried a Bolt spell with his Ashura naginata. Leaping skyward, he descended
on the caster, spearing him neatly, then tossing his body aside. *One down,
too damn many to go...*

One of the Atma beasts, resembling a cross between a tiger and a wolf,
charged Kyle, snarling and snapping its jaws. Kyle braced himself to combat
the ferocious creature...

"Stand stout, fellow in justice!" a voice shouted. A tall, lithe, muscular
body flew past Kyle, tackling the beast and wrestling it to the ground.
Grabbing the beast firmly by its hind legs, the newcomer spun, hurling the
creature like a hammer into the throng of mages. The Dragoons in the area
cheered as a whole wave of wizards went down in a confused tangle, some of
them being slaughtered by the raving beast in their midst.

Stine stood up and brushed himself off. "Taste the Citizen's Justice and
know thine role, heretics!"

Kyle breathed a sigh of relief. "I never thought I'd be glad to see *you* of
all people," he said. "Thanks."

Stine blinked, then bowed. "Tis an honor to serve thee, scion of the
Church."

Kyle grimaced. "Right. Incoming!"

Stine turned, and spread his arms. "Hold, foul heretics! Beastmaster Stine
shall smite thine primate posteriors! MATRA MISSILES!"

Streaks of light erupted from the beastmaster's head, raining down upon the
Manakyr and scattering them. The Atma Beasts snarled and snapped, eyeing the
strange newcomer warily.

Suddenly, a stream of fire erupted from the army of mages, searing Stine. He
coughed out a puff of smoke. "The mighty Stine...feels rather warm."

Kyle groaned. "Everyone, remember your training! Assume attack formation
alpha!"

The Dragoons who were still able to fight formed up, and plowed through the
Manakyr army. Once Stine regained his feet, he charged into the fray as
well, slashing with his rapier and unleashing various Beastlores.

For a while, the battle was even. Eventually, however, the Dragoons began to
tire, staggering from weariness and injury. Bolts of fire, ice, and
lightning streaked through the crowd, scattering crimson-armored troops as
the Manakyr mages advanced, keeping themselves fresh with healing magic and
potions.

"Dost thou find this to be a good day to die, noble warrior?" Stine asked,
huffing and nursing a particularly nasty burn on his chest.

"I don't think...we're gonna make it out of this one, Kyle." Reill grimaced
as he held his shoulder, dislocated by a lucky swing from a mage's mace.

Kyle sighed, leaning against his naginata. "The odds are against us," he
admitted. "But..." He glanced down at the sheaf of scrolls Marcine had given
him, and winced. *Just like on the Lucky Star, with Kraken...*

The young soldier's lips pressed into a thin line as he weighed his options.
"We will not die today," he decided. "There is too much at stake...more than
tradition, more than any principles...more than upbringing and heritage."

"Thou speakest oddly, Kyle Cavanaugh," Stine said.

"I'm about to speak even more oddly," Kyle muttered as he unrolled the
scrolls Marcine had given him. "Soul of the living world..."


          ******


Madonna gasped as a powerful lance of pure electricity slammed into her,
knocking her across the great hall. "How...?"

Lambert chuckled. "Really, for one of the Knights of the Round, you are
truly an ignorant wench."

Armand stared at the High Priest. "Magic..."

Lambert sighed. "Really, Armand, you shouldn't be surprised. You've read the
sacred tomes...the tomes available only to the most trusted leaders of the
Church."

Armand floundered. "Yes, but..."

Madonna rose. "So...the old man has a few tricks up his sleeve. Maybe this
will be interesting."

"Pah." Lambert scoffed as he raised his hand again. "That which draws all
things toward the ground, intensify, crushing the body under its own weight!
Demi!"

Madonna grunted as a crushing wave of gravity sent her crashing to the
ground, struggling to move. Her sword left her grasp, held fast to the
ground mere centimeters away.

"Searing heat, boil away flesh and blacken bone to ash! Flare!"

Armand watched in horror as Lambert sadistically pumped raw, unbridled
magical fury into the body of the Wind Knight. As the visual effects of the
powerful spell faded away, Madonna twitched one last time, then fell still.
Lambert approached the body, picking up the discarded sword, and...

"Come, Armand," Lambert said, wiping the blade of the sword clean while he
examined the small amber stone he'd extracted from the fallen Knight. "We
have much work to do."

Armand stared after his High Priest for a long moment, before following
mutely. *By the Gods...*


          ******


Stine gasped in shock as glimmers of light trailed from Kyle's fingers.
"Thou...a Dragoon...a heretic?"

Kyle seemed dazed, then shook his head. "Yes, Stine, I'm a heretic. I've
been a heretic for a long time now. Still, I've never cast a spell before
now..." *Well, aside from a Calling, anyway.*

Stine seemed about to raise his blade...then stopped. "Yet, you fight the
Manakyr with the Dragoons."

"Not all heretics be allied with th' Manakyr, lad," Jil said, joining their
party. "Some heretics be just as much out ta stop 'em as th' Church be."

Stine paused, seeming to mull this over. He looked down at his chest, which
was now merely an angry red color, instead of blistered and blackened as it
was moments ago. At length, he turned to face Kyle. "Stine thanks thee, Kyle
Cavanaugh. Thou wilt not be meted the death of a heretic by Stine's hand."

Kyle nodded. "That's reassuring." He drew a shaky breath. "Alright...in for
a penny, in for a pound." Raising another scroll, he began to chant a spell,
aiming his hand at the Manakyr advancing on their ranks. "Veil between
realms, part before mine enemies, plunging them into eternal darkness!
X-Zone!"

A twisted, surreal void opened on the battlefield, spreading to encompass
the incoming mages. With a disturbing *pop*, the void snapped shut as
quickly as it had opened...leaving far fewer Manakyr and Atma beasts on the
battlefield than there were moments ago.

Manakyr and Dragoon alike came to a stop, staring in confusion and trying to
figure out what had happened. Stine gaped openly. Kyle blinked.

"That was...quite a spell ye cast there, lad," Jil said.

"Incredible," Stine breathed.

Kyle shook his head, and decided to worry about what he'd just done later.
For now, he had a battle to win and an army to move. "What are you all
standing around for? Get them!"

Spurred instinctively into action by a barked order from a (former) superior
officer, the Dragoons who could still fight charged. The remaining Manakyr
were outnumbered, and quickly overrun.

Kyle sighed in relief as the last mage and Atma Beast were felled. "Now all
we have left to do is get to Tienne...if we can make it in time."


          ******


The great square of Tienne buzzed with the whispers and murmurs of the
gathering crowd. The Holy Guardsmen stood watch over the assemblage, casting
suspicious eyes into the throngs of townspeople pouring into the cobbled
plaza.

Father Lambert emerged from the white marble edifice facing the square,
flanked by Armand Cavanaugh and the scarlet-robed Priestess of Courage.

"Peaceful children of the Three Gods," Lambert began, "A time we have long
feared is now upon us. It pains me to be the bearer of this news, but the
ancient enemies of the Church have returned." He paused. "The Manakyr are
approaching Tienne by air. The city is no longer safe."

[Not only is your city no longer safe...your city is DOOMED!]

Lambert snapped his head up, glancing at the sky. Dark clouds began to
gather, but the few shafts of light penetrating them illuminated a circle of
figures standing atop a building on the opposite side of the courtyard. A
magical forcefield shimmered around them, and the foremost figure stepped
into full view, sneering arrogantly down at them.

"The Manakyr!" "We're under attack!" "Where's that voice coming from?"

Lambert glowered up at the elaborately-robed mage. Flanked by two blue-robed
Manakyr with shadowed faces, the apparent leader wore an iridescent silk
robe, and his forehead was graced by a long, curved ornamental horn. "You
dare defile our great city?"

[Defile?] The Clairmantic mindvoice of the Manakyr summoner snorted. [I
'dare' to raze your blasted city to the ground!]

"And just how do you propose to do that?" Lambert asked, fingering the
remote for the platoon of GOLeMs on standby.

The Manakyr laughed. [The death of Tienne and the rebirth of our lord are at
hand!] Turning, the leader accepted a large...*something* from one of the
mages behind him. He held it aloft, as though displaying a trophy for all to
see.

The object was rather large, a perfect spheroid with the apparent color and
texture of onyx. Dark power surged and crackled within it, flaring and
pulsing, casting odd violet shadows on the ground below.

*What sort of Egg is that...?* Lambert wondered to himself. To his guards
and Cavanaugh, he said, "Get up there. Stop him. I don't know what he means
to do, but we cannot allow it!"

The Manakyr laughed. [Your Dragoons cannot break our magic shield! Even if
they do, I'll simply throw this Dark Matter into the crowd below!]

Lambert paled. "Dark Matter..."

[It took eighty years to prepare this special Dark Matter,] the Manakyr
continued. [Created for this very day...the rebirth of our lord. Of course,
should our mission fail, this Dark Matter contains enough power to level
Tienne and kill every living thing in the city. Either way, we win this
day.]

Everyone hesitated, unsure as to whether or not the summoner was bluffing.

Lambert grew red with rage. "You will NEVER succeed in releasing Darovan!
The Three Gods..."

[Have no power! Your Gods are weak! The seal is broken, and our lord yearns
to awake from his slumber!] The summoner closed his eyes, and though the
Clairmantic mindvoice ceased, his voice echoed throughout the square with
the power of True Magick.

               Sleeper in stone,
               prisoner of the holy war
               Entombed without death
               Dead without having died

The sky filled with thick, black clouds. Thunder crashed and lightning
flashed, and a tangible sense of unease filled the square below.

               Held fast by the spell,
               Amplified by stolen power
               Living mind agonized, tortured
               Longing for release, thirsting for revenge

Lightning licked the face of the great hall, causing Lambert to flinch and
the crowd to begin scattering, panicked.

               Dead yet alive, buried yet not forgotten,
               Waiting for the day of resurrection,
               Stir now, o mighty lord,
               for thine day has come.

The square began to tremble as though struck by an earthquake. The
townspeople fell down all around the square, and those who could not stand
quickly enough were nearly trampled to death by those scampering for the
exits, rushing to flee from the center of the coming destruction.

              Stone become as flesh, dust become as blood!
              Awake, Darovan! Arise, Lord of the Manakyr!
              Rise from your eternal prison! Claim your throne!
              Return to the living world on a road of blood!

The cobbles of the square EXPLODED upward, creating a shower of stone that
injured those still in the square. A low moan echoed through the city, as
stony hands thrust out of the ground, reaching for the heavens. First a half
dozen, then a dozen, then a dozen more...hundreds of hands reached for the
heavens, the wailing intensifying all the while. The city seemed about to
shake itself to pieces.

One by one, every stone hand thrusting from the ground began to turn to
flesh, as softening bodies rose from the pavement beneath the city...an army
being reborn, prisoners escaping their eternal hell.

And in the center of it all, one figure rose into the air, wreathed in
living shadow, crackling with energy. Burning eyes, blood red within
depthless black, opened...

...and a chilling laugh echoed through the streets of Tienne.

The triumphant laugh of Darovan reborn.


          ******

Author's Notes:

Whew. That was a rough ride. But...well, finally we've got a new FFL
chapter. And it's a doozy too.

Major turning point in the series. I'm looking forward to seeing what the
future brings. :)

The first KRAKEN sequence was written by Demota. I touched it up a bit, but
that scene is primarily his work. Thanks, Dem.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to pass out now...X_X

-Lurker

PS: Please insert disc 3. :)