The Vagrant Story

8/8/2019 The Vagrant Story

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PrologueAshley Riot -- Just Another Swordsman

Riskbreaker. Charged with protecting country and citizens, the VKP

(Valendian Knights of the Peace) agents skilled enough to earn that

name are few. Together, they form the Dangerous Criminal Task Force,apprehending or sometimes just secretly "dealing with" major felons.

Consequently, Riskbreakers must have two things; well above normal

fighting prowess and the ability to make lightening quick judgment

calls on when to use their given right to murder. Of course, those

skills are only for use in cases of national interest.In other words, a Riskbreaker is not his own man.Were the Parliament, Valendias ruling body, and all the

organizations it commands assembled together into one gargantuan

living organism, the Riskbreakers would be that huge monsters fangs.

An individual "fang" cannot act of its own will. It must act as the

"brain" dictates, biting into the game at which it is aimed, ripping

and chewing the flesh so that all parts of the creature may gain

nourishment. In that great beast that is national authority the

Riskbreakers are the piece aimed at its enemies, the "fangs"

disposing of them with a few quick snaps.Such a system leaves no room for individuality. A Riskbreakers

thoughts must center around his loyalty to Parliament, all his

actions on preserving Parliaments authority. He follows orders in

blind faith, unknowing of all the reasons behind them. It is not for

a simple "fang" to delineate between "right" and "wrong".Yet no matter how willing a man is to kill off his "self", being human,

it is incredibly difficult for him purely to act as a "fang". True

"fangs" must squash their humanity into near non-existence, yet they

must also raise their will to survive to its uppermost limits. If

a man simply focuses on honing the physical skills necessary, shoving

the awareness of his humanity off to the side, his spirit will dwindle

and dwindle until it dies altogether. Then, no matter how incredible

his fighting abilities, when faced with true felons, each of whom

harbor a spark of chaos in their soul, that man will never come back

alive.The capability to renounce both individuality and humanity, yet

retain spirit --- only those who can fulfill that conflicting,

contradictory requirement have what it takes to survive the life of

a Riskbreaker. That is what Parliament expects. Given simpler words,

they expect the impossible.

In all the years since the official founding of the Dangerous Criminal


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Task Force, it has never escaped the chronic problem of a low average

survival rate. Only one agent breaks that curve, successfully and

safely completing mission after mission---Ashley Riot.

About all anyone really knows about him is that he was once a memberof the Kingsguard, voluntarily forsaking that post and falling into

the lightless world of the Riskbreakers. To the VKP, he is the perfect

"fang". Even the most difficult missions--- the majority of which

involve acting as a "protector of the law", quietly silencing

anti-government factions--- he brings to a flawless close with an

iron will, coming back safely time and time again.Since being assigned there, he has "handled" over 100 cases. While

the vast majority of other Riskbreakers have either lost their lives

or lost their nerve at the incessant slaughter, consequently being

stricken from all records, Ashley continues to complete missions with

unshakable indifference, raising neither complaint nor question.An impossible, incomparable warrior. A perfectly loyal servant. The

impartial law made into living flesh. Ashley Riot is truly the

"unbreakable fang", the "unscratchable blade". All humanity

forfeited, all ties of companionship severed it is easy to believe

that he has ground even his heart into a polished sword.Ashley Riot, the most reliable of all the VKPs Riskbreakers is now

the prime suspect in the murder of Duke Bardorba. Two months have

already passed since the search for him commenced, yet not a single

trace of his whereabouts has been uncovered. Within the VKP, it iswidely believed, though unofficially so, that learning the truth

behind the whole mystery is impossible.One week prior to the murder, a single event creates a tie between

Ashley Riot and Duke Bardorba. The Mullenkamp Cult, under the orders

of their young leader, one Sydney Losstarot, assaulted and

infiltrated the Dukes Manor, and it was Ashley who was ordered to

remedy the situation.However, the number of suspicious points is far larger. Firstly, why

was Ashley, an elite member of the Dangerous Criminal Task Force,

given that assignment instead of the Templars, a group specificallycreated to deal with cults? Secondly, it has come to light that the

intervention by the Crimson Blades was ordered by the Cardinal

without the consent of Parliament. Thirdly, an unknown beast was

sighted within the manor proper during the incident. Its reported

that blows were exchanged, but those who could further testify to

that fact either died during the incident itself or shortly

afterwards under mysterious circumstances. Word or whereabouts of


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any other survivors is as of yet unknown.In addition, Ashleys specific assignment was the pursuit and capture

of Sydney Losstarot, not the Duke. Once he departed for the Manor

he vanished completely, only to resurface once, one week later, as

the final visitor received by the recuperating Duke at his Secondary

Residence. He had no communication with Headquarters at all,

completely unlike any of his previous missions. Hence, we have no

information as to what occurred during that one week period.Only one subject will be avoided, the place to which Ashley pursued

Sydney; Lea Monde, the ancient and dark city 25 years destroyed by

the Great Quake. What happened to him there, and why the greatest

Riskbreaker ever became Valendias most wanted violent criminal---

we have no means even to suppose an answer.

From a mundane swordsman to a vagrant who bears the world on his

shoulders. Lets step behind the eyes of Ashley Riot and discover

what really happened

1 Loosing the Hunting Dogs into an Unknown WorldSydney Losstarot--- leader of the Mllenkamp Cult and manipulative

terrorist acting under the supervision of political powerhouse Duke

Bardorba. The moment Ashley received the order to capture that

enigmatic man, a curious premonition began to form in his mind.Ostensibly, Ashley was chosen for that mission because the Cult was

recently discovered to be more than simply an extremist religiouscult. Accused of being an anti-government organization that had gone

as far as to attempt regicide, Mllenkamp was deemed dangerous enough

to warrant a Riskbreaker. Or so the official story says. In reality,

Ashley was deployed on the orders of a small group of politicians

plotting to take advantage of the recently-snapped secret bond

between Sydney and the Duke. Though officially long since retired

from politics because of poor health, the Duke retained a firm hold

on the hidden goings-on of Parliament as well as his power as a

manipulator of the Dark. Ashley was chosen by those plotters to be

certain of completely severing the squabbling Duke and cult leader

from any power.Ashley himself had no interest in passing judgement on the political

maneuvering. He had long ago left all decisions on "right" and "just"

in the hands of the VKP, not once thinking on the whys or wherefores

of his orders. Once a mission begins, his soul is completely sealed

off. His brain is used only to assimilate exterior information and

transmit it to his body. A soulless doll acting purely in the best

way to successfully complete the mission--- that's Ashley's "style".


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Thus, his spirit is always wrapped in silent darkness. No matter the

situation or circumstances, to Ashley it's as if he's watching a story

that's unfolding page by page. His physical body stands on the stage,

disconnected from his will, following the script of the story to its

predetermined end. His soul sits, separate, in a quiet, dark

spectator's booth, watching his body dance across the stage.

Everything external is turned away. Nothing ever reaches as far as

the soul within.The darkness wraps thickly around his soul, coccooning it in a false

sense of peace, armoring it from Reality. But on the night he broke

into the occupied Bardorba Mansion, from the second he and Sydney

met, that armor began to crack. No, perhaps it is better said that

the framework of Reality itself began to crack, things dismissed as

mere fantasy by common sense actually happening.For example, Sydney is immortal.Completely disregarding the demand for his surrender, the young

prophet grabbed for his sword, forcing a reluctant Ashley to fire

his crossbow. The arrow struck dead on with enough power to punch

a hole in armor plate, let alone a bare, scrawny chest. It drove clear

through Sydney, cleanly piercing his heart. At least, that's what

Ashley thought.Barely phased by the crossbow bolt sticking out of him, Sydney stood,

and as an incredulous Ashley watched, pulled the bothersome thing

out. He then proceded to call forth something even more difficult

to swallow than an immortal, summoning a creature straight out of

the world of myth and legend-- a wyvern. The grotesque beast droppedin from above on thick, leathery wings, it's long neck snaking this

way and that. The sheer size of the creature more than dwarfed Ashley.

However, fresh from feasting on the Crimson Blades outside, the red

painting its teeth and the reek of blood on its breath wre anything

but illusional.The wyvern's flaming breath flickering about him, Ashley charged

forward and rammed his sword into the beast's breast. The sturdy sword

cleaved through scale and hard muscle, permanently halting the huge

heart underneath. The strange feeling of cutting stronger-than-human

flesh still echoing up his arm, Ashley had no time to feel fear before

the wyvern died.Unfortunately, that small gap was still enough for Sydney to get away.

He gathered those of his followers still alive and made a clean escape

from the chaotic wreck of the Manor.Ashley then also withdrew. But having seen unkillable prophets and

killable wyverns-- his machine-like coolness and soulless calm had


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been cracked to their very foundations.The situation had obviously escalated beyond the scope of a single

agent. The Riskbreaker part of Ashley wanted to return to VKP

Headquarters immediately and report what little information had been

gleaned, and then wait for further orders. The occupation of the

Duke's Manor dealt with, the necessity of Sydney's capture became

questionable. Besides, would conventional methods of search and

capture even work on Sydney, with his strange powers?But the rest of Ashley was ensnared by the reality-warping aura of

magic that surrounds Sydney like a cloak. His decision to pursue the

Mllenkamp Cult to Lea Monde was inevitable.He went like a hound loosed on a fox. This scent he would follow with

pit-bull tenacity, until his teeth sink into his prey's neck. And

in this particular case, personal interest has sharpened his sense

of smell to blood-hound keenness.Yet, just who, or what, it was he chased, Ashley had no idea; a mystery

that was pushing him, the VKP's greatest Riskbreaker, to bring out

his best. The goal of this hunt, then, was not the capture or kill,

but discovery. Ashley wanted to know the true face of the man who

had cracked the armor around his soul, and even more disturbingly,

actually touched it.The hunting ground is Mllenkamp's base of operations, the ancient

city where the legend of a priestess still lives-- Lea Monde.Ashley sets out as the morning sun rises, cutting away the last

shadows from the nightmare in the Duke's Manor. What he doesn't notice

is the halo of darkness still lurking about him that those bright

rays don't sweep away. That darkness is a "present" left behind by

Sydney. What lies hidden in its depths, a simple hunting dog doesn't

know. He simply presses on.What will Ashley find in Lea Monde? Perhaps this "Dark" that's

manipulated by immortals. Or perhaps he'll find a shadow of

himself...Exactly according to premonition, the Wheels of Fate have begun to

turn.

2 The Sealed Memories of a WarriorOnce, Lea Monde boasted the some of the best wineries and finest wines

in all of Valendia. Likely, they were once stored, a rack for each

type, in that hall. The cellar is man-made and exceptionally large,

the light from the torches left behind by the Cult followers not


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enough to chase the shadows from all the corners.There, with darkness flickering in his peripheral vision, Ashley felt

an involuntary shudder.

It was one not caused by Lea Monde, nor its denizens. Indeed, the

magical creatures that run rampant in the blacker spaces of theancient city, the walking corpses and ghouls, the uncountable

bodiless spirits and all the other monsters; none of them inspired

any terror in Ashley. Even he himself was mystified at his lack of

fear at things that would panic a normal man.No, what scared Ashley to the core was the truth about himself, of

which he was just starting to learn.Was it truly simple darkness hovering about the edges of his vision?

Or was it truly not "darkness" at all but something cloaked in

"Darkness", following him just outside of his awareness? Since

entering the cursed capitol, Ashley had begun facing off with the

unfamiliar foes "doubt" and "paranoia".Then Sydney Losstarot began his "game," taking Callo Merlose hostage

and luring Ashley ever further into the depths of Lea Monde. With

every step closer to the city's heart he took, the inner unease about

himself grew. It felt as if another Ashley Riot, one different and

unknown, was coming forward from the ruins around him.That thought struck fear into Ashley like nothing else could. If that

"other" wasn't illusionary, that would make him, the Ashley Riot he

had always thought himself to be, the illusion. All he believed the

world to be would turn false.------So just who is Ashley Riot?Still plagued by doubts that were admittedly illogical, a sudden,

high pitched squeal stopped him. A shriek fit to send shivers down

a man's spine trembled through the air of the huge room in which Ashley

found himself-- a steel blade being drawn across a stone floor. Soon

the deep, hollow thud of metal armor joined it, creating a chilling

cacophony that filled the air.Ashley had already seen the fallen Crimson Blades raised as zombies

by the Dark. As this new monstrosity began to lurch out of hiding

and he felt the extent of its hatred for all living things, he

strangely felt his cool composure returning.There was going to be a fight. That, he could immerse himself into.

His self as a Riskbreaker and Agent of the Valendian Parliament could

come to the fore, would become more real. It didn't matter if his

opponent be man or monster, Ashley could shove all unnecessary


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thoughts and worries to the back of his mind and bury himself in the

fight. For at least a little while, he could be simply a weapon,

nothing more. As the death-match with the whatever-it-was across the

hall ticked closer, an odd sense of peace descended on him.It wasn't long before the "whatever-it-was" stood revealed. Another

squelching, half-rotted zombie it was not. Flickering torch-light

glimmered off a suit of armor. Once, it must have been custom-designed

for a knight of huge stature, each metal plate painstakingly pounded

out and embossed, then assembled into a stunning whole. Well, whole

except for a helmet.But a helmet wasn't needed. The creature had no head on which to put

it. Nor did the shoulder plates rest on living shoulders. In fact,

there was no flesh at all within the thing. Peer through its joints

and all you would find is an unmistakably empty cavity.The Dark that permeates every inch of Lea Monde had seeped into old

armors long ago drenched in the blood of foes, possessing them, giving

the dead metal a semblance of life. So was born the monster

"Dullaham." The living muscle that once moved its limbs is long since

rotted away. No bones support its frame. Instead, the Dark attached

marionette's strings to the armor itself, manipulating its impromptu

puppet like a master.The "living" armor slowly turned to face Ashley. Gathering power in

the tip of the huge blade in its hand, Dullaham struck the floor,

leaving behind a deep gash in the stone. Almost as if it'd been waiting

for Ashley, a deep red light began shining from within the cursed

metal, more power pouring into it from the Dark.What it did next, no one would have thought possible. Moving several

times faster than any living creature of the same size, it closed

to within two steps of Ashley. A bare fraction of a second later,

its sword, easily longer than a man is tall, swung down like a

lightening bolt.Ashley did manage to block the strike and his shield did not crack,

but the arm holding it felt on the verge of doing so. Numbness shot

down his arm, every muscle fiber quivering with the stress of the

blow.Yet such a massive, sweeping attack left Dullaham wide open, an

opportunity Ashley promptly pounced upon. While the greatsword still

swung with the momentum of the slash, Ashley stepped into the space

created, quickly closing the last two steps. Aiming for the joint

in the armor's right arm, he struck. Steel met steel in a clash that

sent sparks glittering into the dim light.


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Surprisingly, Ashley's attack didn't stop there. Throwing all his

strength into it, he hit the same place again. Dullaham staggered,

unable to bring its sword back into position to counterattack. Five,

six, seven times Ashley's sword connected with cursed steel, the

metal visibly deteriorating each time, becoming much weaker.Cushioned in the white haze of no thought brought on by the fight,

a new worry suddenly bubbled into Ashley's peace. When did he learn

how to chain attacks together like that, not allowing even the

slightest chance of counterattack? He'd never done any such thing

before setting foot in Lea Monde. But now it was like he'd practiced

the technique for years upon years, until the pattern had soaked all

the way into his bones.The armor having taken more damage than it could handle, the Dark

abandoned Dullaham and the empty metal started to crumble. Another

cold shiver of fear sliding down his spine, Ashley stepped back and

asked himself;"What am I?"3 Steel Fangs, Fragile Soul

Lea Monde-- a castle town with 2,000 years of history. At its height,

over 5,000 people lived within its walls. However, 25 years ago, a

very large, very localized earthquake struck with no warning. In one

night a thriving city whose strong walls had never been breached was

reduced to a ruined haunt of the dead.The city's beginnings lay in the Kiltian Age, legend attributing it's

founding to a sorceress of extraordinary power named Mullenkamp. The

price for fooling with the evil magicks she possessed came in the

form of a great earthquake, visited upon her descendents. Ashley

remembered hearing that when he was a young boy.Young Ashley had thought that a very strange thing to say. How could

one be punished for using something that didn't exist?

But God existed. Yes, Young Ashley was a very devout believer in God--

an omniscient, omnipresent, benevolent deity who watched lovingly

over the doings of Mankind. That God would not stand for evil magiclike that which Mullenkamp supposedly used. That God would have

destroyed such darkness instantly. Young Ashley absolutely would not

believe that his God would meet out any retribution that looked like

a "curse". Besides, present Lea Monde was the heart of the pious Iocus

sect.

Supposing it were true that Mullenkamp existed, then the sublime

being that lived in Heaven, whose omniscience the church priests


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always preached about, would most certainly not be omniscient.The guileless Young Ashley who had so fully believed in a just, kind

God had long ago vanished into the realms of the forgotten. The Ashley

who lived with the harshness of Reality didn't believe one whit in

god or miracles. He had understood that both were simply tools by

which priests controlled the uneducated masses. In a sense, that made

the clergy similar to Riskbreakers, warriors charged with keeping

the peace, albeit they used religion and faith instead of swords and

bows.Yet now, having stood in Lea Monde and witnessed the magic, the Dark,

that permeated every pebble, Ashley began to think believing in God

might be a good idea. Not an all-seeing, all-knowing nice God mind

you, simply one that was a counter-power to the Dark.Hence the tragedy that struck Lea Monde 25 years ago may well have

been divine retribution, just from an imperfect god. But whatever

that punishment was, Ashley was convinced it wasn't some natural

disaster like an earthquake. Something else set all 5,000-plus

inhabitants of Lea Monde to standing on the banks of the Styx. Why?

Because for an earthquake that theoretically killed everyone in the

city, it had left the buildings surprisingly well intact. An

earthquake assuredly had happened, but it wasn't one of a great enough

scale to annihilate an entire city. Another, far more abominable

disaster had fallen upon the place and turned it into a haunted wreck.The power to snuff out several thousand lives in an instant--- no

matter how evil that power was, mankind would certainly hold it in

awe, naming it the manifestation of a god's divine might. As for thetrue reasons for it's use in the unjust slaughter of a city, others

could search for it at their convenience.Perhaps that reason was the otherworldly power of the Dark itself.

Whoever could attain it would, in the eyes of the superstitious

masses, become a god. It would not be a far stretch of the imagination

to believe that the Cardinal had sent his Crimson Blades, led by Romeo

Guildenstern, into Lea Monde in defiance of the Parliament for just

such a reason. Capture the sorcerer Sydney and torture all the secrets

of the Dark out of him, then make its might the property of the Church.

That would make the Church even more powerful than all of Valendia.Of course, the VKP would not just sit idly by and watch that happen.

Thus they sent Ashley to permanently silence the voices of all who

knew of that plan, down to the last Crimson Blade.In the end, this whole trumped up affair in Lea Monde boiled down

to something no different from a normal mission; a lethal battle

between men. So Ashley thought as he examined the battered edge of


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his sword. He didn't have to listen to Sydney's confusing words or

fear the hallucinations of his past. All he had to do was take

sharpened steel to the enemies of the VKP.Discovering the city's buildings intact held an unexpected bonus for

Ashley. In the residential districts, the Cultists had found and

restored several places that were indispensable to any militant

organization; workshops. With the fire laid in the forge, the shops'

interiors looked almost as they would have prior to the Great Quake.In the process of his fights with monsters and especially the

armor-clad Crimson Blades, Ashley's weapons had sustained

significant damage. Striking the metal armor had left countless nicks

in the Fandango's blade and warped the head of the Tovarisch enough

to seriously affect the weapon's balance.

Even the Seventh Heaven's string was stretched to the point where

the crossbow's piercing strength was severely lessened.Finding an unoccupied workshop, Ashley promptly set about repairing

his arsenal. Fortunately, the Cultists had been considerate enough

to leave behind plenty of neatly arranged tools.First, dismantle the blade by removing the thick nail holding the

blade to the grip. Exchange the damaged grip for a new, better one.

Repair the damaged blade simply by heating it in the forge and

pounding out the flaws. Sharpen the new blade with a whetstone and

reaffix it to the new grip with a new nail to replace the one bent

by the initial removal process. Secure it tightly enough so that the

blade did not rattle.Ashley gazed into the silver flat of his repaired sword. That ritual

was one he always followed before any mission, so that he could find

the right frame of mind to kill--- so that he too could become simply

a sword. Holding on to that idea, he set to work repairing all the

weapons he carried to better-than-new condition.In the mirror-like face of a blade he caught a glimpse of his own

dead eyes. Then, as if they stood behind him looking over his

shoulders, he saw the eyes of his murdered wife and child. They too

stared down at a sword that had drunk gallons of blood. Just polished

it gleamed red in the forge's light, as if it had just been pulled

from another dying body. But the body wasn't that of a terrorist and

the wet blood red was not that of a fallen knight.It was the body of a beloved wife and the innocent blood of a sonA wordless scream echoed hollowly off dead stone walls.4 Souls that Cannot Die-- Hell in the Waking World


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The Crimson Blades' young priest, Grissom, was beyond a doubt dead.Surrounding Lea Monde like the sea surrounds the island upon which

the city sits lies the Snowfly Forest. Droves of the white insects

that give the forest its name flutter wildly all through out it, a

living blizzard. In the deepest glades Grissom made his stand,

intending to show Sydney just how far his skills with the Dark

extended. He attempted to summon a defender powerful enough to drive

off both the black-clad priest and Ashley, who suddenly stumbled upon

the scene.But, as Sydney had warned, Grissom overstepped himself. He called

more power than he could handle, being devoured by the very strength

he'd hoped would save him. By summoning a being far exceeding what

he had imagined, the extra strain on his mind and body likely caused

sudden cardiac arrest. Obviously, the sorcerers the Cardinal thought

to train in secret still had a long road ahead of them before they

could reach Sydney's level of mastery.Yet Grissom had barely fallen before he stood once again, for all

appearances completely revived. High on the new life and power the

Dark had infused in him, Grissom triumphantly raised his voice and

called forth a living armor greater than Dullaham, this time intent

on killing the two interlopers. Perhaps it was the influx of power

from the portal to the Other Grissom's first summoning had

half-opened that triggered his surprising revival. Or maybe, in the

second that he died, the Dark already in his system gained an

opportunity to infect his entire body, morphing into a different sort

of fell strength.Quickly appraising the situation, Ashley chose to fight with Sydney,

an opponent he was only supposed to capture, in order to destroy

Grissom and his summoned defender, who were both actively attempting

to kill him. Slamming his sword through Grissom's heart, he felt it

still for a second time. Once again dead, the priest did not rise

a third time.For those humans stained by the touch of the Dark, death means one

of two things. One is simple inconvenience, as in Sydney's case. Even

with a crossbow bolt running straight through his heart, he was

capable of swift and total recovery. In other words, Sydney posessed

"complete immortality". However, not just anyone could attain it.

Ashley was certain there was some other secret to it. A secret for

which Grissom and all the rest of the Cardinal's forces were

searching. They would have no easy time finding it, he was sure. Was

that missing piece simple to attain, the Crimson Blades would not

have been able to hunt the Cultists into near annihilation. Likely,

Sydney's complete immortality was something only one man could posess


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at a time.All the other souls bearing the Dark's stain were assured the other

death-- "incomplete death". When a soul merges with flesh, the

resultant state is called "life". Upon "death", the soul is freed

from the flesh, returning to the Other. Likewise, the moment a new

flesh is conceived in the womb of a mother, a soul comes out of the

Other to merge with it. That is the proper cycle for all things of

limited life-span.Souls touched by the Dark have been yanked out of that cycle. Even

after the body has perished, the soul is not allowed the peace of

the Other. Bearing the taint marking it as part of the Dark, it is

condemned to walk the world of the living for eternity. Bodilessness

alone brings on indescribable agony for the damned soul-- a soul which

cannot die. That is "incomplete death". Those bearing that cursed

fate slowly go mad, their sense of "self" fraying to shreds.

Desperately, they seek any suitable body to posess, so that they canescape their torment even for a short time. A "suitable body" is one

which lacks a soul; a corpse.All the zombies and skeletons Ashley had seen rambling about ever

since setting foot within Lea Monde were undoubtedly manifestations

of that theory. Long since having forgotten who they were when they

had lived, driven relentlessly by a jealous hatred of the living,

they attack anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.Once the body they posessed decomposes, or is otherwise rendered

unusable, the souls are once again forced out bare into the pain of

the Waking World. Immediately, they begin to search for another fleshcage to lock themselves in, fighting others of their kind viciously

for the chance. And so on, forever.That, Ashley thought, was a pretty good picture of what he'd expect

Hell to be like. Grissom failed to achieve complete immortality. That

left only the path of incomplete death for him to follow.Given what Ashley had witnessed thus far, the deeper the Dark's stain

upon a creature, the faster its body turns to dust upon death. In

many cases, mere seconds passed between the striking of the fatal

blow and the complete disintegration of the body. Killed by his own

summoning, Grissom should have crumbled to ash within a few moments,

his soul stripped of self and left to prowl the confines of Lea Monde's

bespelled walls.

Emphasis on should have.But he once again found his way into Ashley's path in the broken and

sunken alleys of Undercity East, far from the wild green and dancing


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white of Snowfly Forest. His body was stone cold and his blood

sluggish, but Grissom was still unmistakably himself. By some tragic

fall of Fate's dice, he'd re-posessed his own body. He was completely

unaware of his own death. Wondering at his body's strange

unresponsiveness, he did not even think to name it what it was; rigor

mortis.

Then Neesa and Tieger arrived, a pair of the few surviving Crimson

Blades. It wasn't until they-- his sworn companions and fellow

commanders-- told him, that Grissom realized the truth. As if that

revelation was the trigger, madness erupted within his mind. Voices

from nowhere whispered to him that his "friends" were only after the

hard-won flesh he'd so recently possessed. They were just another

group of condemned souls, the incomplete dead, and thus just more

ways to split the few available corpses. Grissom's self began to

unravel, the coldly polite priest disappearing under the ravening

jealousy of the living felt by all the undying souls of Lea Monde.Voicing a strange noise, the thing that once was Grissom moved far

faster and smarter than expected of a zombie, quickly retreating into

the labyrinthine ruins of Undercity East. First, he needed to gather

up some more of the Dark's power then he could come back and drag

his "friends" down into his new world---If existence meant only constant pain and an unending search for

corpses to posess, that was certainly Hell. But to discover suddenly

that you were already long dead, and only sheer chance had thrown

your soul back into your own body-- that had to be Hell's deeper

levels. Ashley decided then and there that he wanted nothing to do

with immortality, neither Grissom's or Sydney's variety. He sent up

a quick prayer to the god he'd chosen temporarily to believe in once

again, praying that death would bring him nothing but an end to

everything. When somebody died, it was best and proper for all of

that person to die, both body and soul.Ashley paused for a moment. Was he really all that different from

Grissom? The past he had thought was his was slowly being torn away,

new memories and skills floating out of the darkness of his mind.

Was the "Ashley Riot" he had believed himself to be for so long, was

that man already dead? Did some unknown pain-mad soul sit in the back

of his head, manipulating his corpse to kill the living CrimsonBlades? Was he truthfully just another of Lea Monde's innumerable

zombies?Be that as it may, it was still too early for him to give in to eternal

sleep. So Ashley told himself, pulling together the frazzled edges

of his self. He hadn't the right to flee into agony-provoked insanity.

He had a mission to complete.


14/24

It didn't matter how brutal the Truth hidden in the Dark heart of

Lea Monde, Ashley would face it. As one whose soul bore the taint

of the Dark, he would hunt that answer until his body faded to black

dust on the wind. He would follow it like a hound on the scent, until

he recovered his true self.5 A Quickening Within the Dark's Ancient CapitolJan Rozencrantz. A former Riskbreaker, yet a man still true to himself

and his pragmatic machiavellianism. Human to the core, he used

everyone and trusted no one in the pursuit of his desires. Of all

the people wandering around Lea Monde, groping after the Dark's

promise of power, Rozencrantz's motivation for wanting it was perhaps

the purest of them all; simple greed.So Ashley mused muzzily as he watched the other Riskbreaker's chest

part company with his waist, the two chunks flowering into a black

ash that invisible winds scattered throughout the Chamber of Reason.But even Rozencrantz, fox-clever and grounded in practicality as he

was, believed -- impractically, foolishly-- that the Dark couldn't

touch him at all. It was a Dark-enchanted stone blade brought an end

to that empty fantasy, ushering Rozencrantz's Dark-stained soul down

the path to incomplete death, but it was that convenient, believable

lie that first doomed him.So, given that, could it really be ruled out that Rozencrantz was

a brain-washed tool of the VKP?Rozencrantz was a formerRiskbreaker. Considering all the top secret

and highly sensitive information one needed to know for missions,

would the VKP really let him simply retire? Even the idea that he

got kicked out and was then left to roam loose was hard to swallow.

It was very, very likely that Rozencrantz had been brainwashed;

twisted so that every idea and action he thought to be purely his

own was instead precisely what the VKP wanted him to do. A sacrificial

pawn sent into the fray to catalyze certain events to the Parliament's

benefit, if you will.Ashley's train of thought stuttered to a halt, then backtracked.

Wait, perhaps he was only wishing that's what happened-- aconvenient, believable lie that would bolster other thoughts that

might just be more convenient, believable liesMaking conscious effort, Ashley gathered wits scattered by

Rozencrantz's nasty blow to the back of his head and tried to stand.

At the far end of his still-fuzzing vision he could make out Sydney,

near the doors leading out of Kiltia's Temple, and off to the side


15/24

tottered the newly awakened stone goddess."I give you the City, Riskbreaker!" Sydney intoned, aiming one

slender hagane claw of one empty, eldritch metal hand right at Ashley,

"All it's power-- all to you! Make haste! Join me! Already your powers

are close to readiness! Come!""Keep your cursed city!" Ashley shouted right back, pent up anger

and frustration suddenly welling up and spilling out.Come to think of it, Ashley hadn't so much chased Sydney to Lea Monde

as Sydney had luredAshley there, but for what reason the Riskbreaker

had no idea. The blonde prophet left behind a mile wide trail, and

he never ventured too far ahead of his supposed pursuer. At one point

Ashley even overtook Sydney-- only to be shunted off into the role

of Sydney's protector against the Dark Crusader. Sydney had summoned

a long parade of monsters to bar Ashley's way, and each was

undoubtedly formidable. But not a single one was so overly terrible

that Ashley couldn't defeat it with a bit of work. It was almost as

if Sydney could guess how good Ashley would be at which place, and

then summon a beast that would push that level ever so slightly.Unfathomable behavior on the part of a quarry Ashley in no way

understood, until Rosencrantz blurted out the whole thing. Perhaps

thinking Ashley too muddled or unconscious, he laid the whole plot

in the open during his verbal sparring match with Sydney.So Sydney never had any plans to kill him. No. Maybe it is better

said that Sydney was testing Ashley, tossing him into Lea Monde's

monster-infested mazes and watching to see if the Riskbreaker madeit out alive or not. Dying, of course, meant that he wasn't up to

Sydney's requirements. However, survival meant power. With each

beast he killed his weapons mastery grew and the Dark's roots sunk

deeper into his soul. Theoretically, once he reached the center of

the maze, he would have become Sydney's ideal whatever. Put simply,

Sydney was traininghim, using repeated limit-pushing battles to

force Ashley's potential into a continuous, sharp growth. That was

the immortal's reasoning, his purpose behind the otherwise odd

actions he took.

And Sydney's ultimate motive: an Heir to the Dark. He needed a

successor to the Wellspring, and Ashley was it. The Dark was the last

thing Ashley ever wanted, and he was sparing in the use of what he

did have. Reason enough, according to Sydney, to give the Riskbreaker

power equal to that of a god. Consequently, Ashley-- long since

stained black with the Dark's touch-- would receive the only escape

allowed from a gruesome incomplete death. As Sydney's successor, he

would inherit Complete Immortality.


16/24

Everything Rozencrantz, Guildenstern, the Cardinal and the VKP were

searching so desperately for, and Sydney was handing it all to him

on a silver platter.Ashley didn't want it. Any of it. Was it really possible for a born

human to live and function in a human world once he'd become something

entirely different? Ashley thought not.

When he'd lost the only things that let him enjoy a happy life as

nothing more than a man, he'd fallen into a hell of desire for that

which he could never again have, and there was no way out. The Dark

was no miracle. It couldn't sate that desire by bringing back his

family or the simple, quiet happiness he'd known. It couldn't even

tell him if he'd ever really hada family and a happy life in the

first place. It certainly couldn't change his past as a licensed

murderer in the VKP. No, the Dark was a saltwater drought that would

parch a throat further for every sip taken."Where's Merlose?!"At least Merlose, he thought. If he could do nothing else, he wanted

to bring Callo Merlose safely out of this fairy tale turned waking

nightmare. He'd failed once before to protect his family, and even

if that memory was no more than a warped lie it did nothing to change

the guilt ridden self-loathing that ate at his heart. This time he

would not fail.Almost as if he'd heard the whole of that inner monologue, Sydney

smiled a mysterious little smile and turned his back on the other

man. Striding out of the Chamber, he casually threw over his shoulder;

"You may be able to save them-- your wife and child. Should you meet

them, repent Ashley, repent!"A multi-pronged barb driven straight into his deepest pain, all the

blood drained from Ashley's face in a rush. A second later, his tired

brain finally processed the meaning of what Sydney had said.-----he could save Tia and Marco?He had to know what Sydney really meant by those words. Shoving

himself all the way to his feet, Ashley started after the blonde's

retreating figure. He'd gone no more than three steps when something

interposed itself between him and his quarry.Kali. The living statue. Carved into the likeness of an ancient,

foreign goddess of war, it had been in a convenient place at a

convenient time for Sydney. Using a small bit of the power coveted

by everyone excepting himself and Ashley, he'd brought the stone

demoness to life.


17/24

She'd been waiting patiently for the chance to strike, body torquing

in a strangely snakelike, hypnotic fashion. Three beautiful faces

looked out from atop two sets of shoulders, the entirety of the

Chamber of Reason well within her field of vision. Four slim arms

belied their weak appearance, each holding aloft a huge, wickedly

sharp weapon. One arm swung in wide arcs the great sword that had

cut Rozencrantz in two. Another held a gargantuan, forklike sasumata

ready to rend. A mace so big that one blow would likely smash every

bone in his body, and an axe that could probably slice his shield

and his self in half in a single swipe hung poised in the other two

arms, ready to strike the second an opportunity presented itself.

Magic wound through her twisting, dance-like step, drawing the eye

and sapping strength.

For all that she was just a stone likeness of the old goddess, the

power of one deified by present day believers had been poured into

her. She would not be easy to destroy. Not easy, but not impossible

either. Sydney would not have given her life if he did not think Ashleycapable of taking it from her. His strength had grown to the point

where he could go toe to toe with a god and win--- just as Sydney

knew it would.

In pursuit of the immortal bearing the mark of the apostate, the

Riskbreaker clashed with the Goddess of Slaughter. Dark slammed

against Dark and the air itself trembled, a shockwave rippling

through the whole of the Wellspring like the first contraction of

labor, foretelling the birth of a new Ashley Riot---------.

6 To a Realm Beyond the World of Human Knowledge

The lovely, pale skin of Commander Samantha slipped from sight, the

cold, dawnless black of Lea Monde swallowing her whole. One red rose

blossomed on her breast, the inked lines of a tattoo, and another

--still blooming-- blood crimson rose colored her stomach. At it's

center glittered the blade of a short dagger, stabbed nearly to the

hilt in her gut. The man she loved and whom she had believed loved

her, the man she trusted completely and never once doubted, had stuck

it there. Already mostly dead, Samantha fell from the dome of the

Great Cathedral in a graceful arc, like a flower petal sinking with

the rain towards the hard stone ground so far below.

Ashley saw her, in that single second she dropped past the Atrium's

window. He'd been about to climb the stairs leading up from that

chamber of secret sacrifices. Black dust drifted from her body, the

disintegration process already begun. Likely, only the dagger that

killed her would hit the flagstones below.Such was the fate of every Blade Guildenstern led into the Dark


18/24

maelstrom at the heart of Lea Monde.Even after the Commander's corpse past his line of vision, Ashley

was still completely aware of her. When the Dark first touched both

their souls, an uncanny connection between their senses opened.

Whether it was simply that they had a "like rhythm", or some other

unexplained cause that created the bridge spanning their minds,

Ashley didn't know. However it happened, it gave him the power to

see through her eyes and hear with her ears. That link to Samantha's

mind, and the similar one leading to Callo Merlose, provided handy

insight into the movements of the enemy's top ranks.Her body dissolving and her soul starting to slip away, one last

thought ran through Samantha's mind and across the bridge to

Ashley's, where it rang clearly. It wasn't a shriek of rage against

the betrayal that made her a sacrifice for another man's gain, nor

was it a wail of regret over her own death. It was fear--- fear of

the bleak, blood-drenched future her lover was chaining himself toin his desire for the power of an ultimate dictator.Save him! she cried to Ashley. Her enemy. Her lover's enemy. Their

only possible savior.Ashley intended to do so.He'd already accepted the duty of stopping Guildenstern from Sydney,

the blonde prophet's life bleeding through his fingers from the

gaping swath where the Blood Sin's inked lines once twined.

Shouldering both pleas, Ashley stepped out into night air saturated

with the rain and the Dark, all of Lea Monde stretching out belowhim.He walked into it calm. Any anger he may have felt at Sydney and the

way the other man had provoked him, manipulatedhim, had evaporated

long ago. All of the eavesdropping on pasts, the prophesying, the

warped truths, even his charismatic faade as the Mullenkamp Cult's

leader; all of it was part of a meticulously tailored plan to save

the ones he loved. But that plan hadn't worked. So he placed that

burden on Ashley's shoulders, trusting the Riskbreaker as his chosen

successor.

It had been a conceited and entirely inconsiderate thing for Sydneyto do. Never mind that Ashley wanted nothing to do with the Dark,

the now-mortal Sydney had taunted him with the "hunt", playing on

the Riskbreaker's fidelity to a mission and buried need to save his

family in order to grind him into the desired form. Despite that

callous disregard, Sydney's hidden hopes and desires were something

Ashley could understand.


19/24

Where "law" forms solid pillars that regulate and stabilize mankind,

"emotion" creates the crossbeams that link the pillars together into

the latticework called "society". It was "emotion" -- love for one's

parents, affection for one's children, passion for one's spouse,

trust of one's friends, even the strange "best enemy" respect for

one's eternal opponent-- that held the human world together. So

Ashley believed. In a world without those soft "emotions" it would

be impossible to value human life. Solemn laws and strict punishments

alone lead only to cowering fear and stacks of corpses. Guildenstern

was looking to create just such a world, binding the admittedly

weakened pillars of law into one hard column and placing himself at

the very top.

Crouching on the rain-drenched Cathedral roof, the man who would be

a god completely ignored Ashley's entrance. His back to the

Riskbreaker, Ashley got a clear look at the stolen Blood Sin tacked

onto Guildenstern's bare back. No, not "tacked". The black-inked

swath of skin had melded completely onto his back, now as much a partof him as it had been of Sydney.Amidst the oppressive, evil-tinged, power-drenched air, Ashley

yelled;"Guildenstern!!"The man who'd unhesitatingly consigned his lover's soul to an

eternity of half-living hell lazily spun around. The eyes that looked

upon Ashley with black glee were nothing but cloudy whites.

"Come, Riskbreaker"Elation danced in those foggy orbs, latching onto Ashley's eyes with

a mad intensity."Your death will be my rebirth!"With that announcement, the huge mass of Dark the ritual sacrifice

of Samantha had called to the top of the dome suddenly began to

condense into Guildenstern's right hand. Power flowed into the small

area at the pinnacle of Lea Monde, almost as if it were soaking in

from the entirety of the broken city below. The air became so thick

with the heady force of its presence that goose bumps started crawlingup Ashley's arms.Lightening brightness flared and Ashley instinctively protected his

sight from the eye burning glare with an upraised arm. When his vision

finally cleared, the being that stood in front of him was not the

Guildenstern who had been there only seconds before. While there were

similarities, the Guildenstern he looked at now was, on some

fundamental level, wrong.


20/24

Purple bolts of pure energy slithered across skin dyed midnight

black. It was not a simple case of his skin changing color. Muscle,

blood, bone, organs-- every last cell in Guildenstern's body was

drenched in the Dark, it's color staining his skin from the inside

out.His right hand held a gargantuan sword; a melding of three blades

made into the shape of the Blood Sin. A few moments before, it had

been atop the Cathedral's roof as a simple decoration in the shape

of the Iocus priesthood's symbol, the Holy Win. But Guildenstern had

changed it, vaporizing the mundane metal and then instantly

recondensing it with ample amounts of Dark mixed in. The result--

a super-dense, super-tensile alloy called Damascus.Flipping the giant weapon about like it was no more than a willow

switch, the man-turned-god laughed once, a harsh burst of sound that

rolled out with a palpable wave of force."Come help me celebrate my ascension!"Guildenstern lifted his rood-blade high and the sword immediately

doubled in size, white light gushing from the tip then instantly

freezing, an icicle of power. The next second it had whipped around

him completely and smashed into Ashley's defenses with frightening

strength.

The Riskbreaker's eyes registered one strike, but the rest of him

felt at least three. Had he been even the slightest nanosecond slow

with his counter, his fate likely would have been similar to

Rosencrantz's.

Faster than a surprise attack, strong enough to slice six unprepared

Ashleys in half, Guildenstern was simply probing at his opponent's

defenses. A thought and he was behind the other man, the rood-blade

flicking out and slicing through both magical and physical shields

like neither was there. Left behind was a not-shallow gash across

Ashley's well-toned abdomen.Ashley slapped a 'heal' on the wound before he could lose too much

blood. The cantrip summoning the power had barely left his mouth when

Guildenstern's words echoed through not only his ears, but every

nerve in his body."Well parried, Riskbreaker. You truly are the greatest bloodhound

--blood-drenched, hell hound-- that the VKP has ever turned out. But

you cannot destroy me. Lea Monde is mine. I am a GOD!""Oh I'll kill you, Guildenstern. You belong in this world no

longer."


21/24

As a Riskbreaker, Ashley had made it his mission to eliminate

Guildenstern. Not for Parliament or Valendia would he destroy the

power-mad creature of the Dark that the Crimson Blade Commander had

become, but for all the people the world over, so that they could

continue to live peacefully, as people. Shouldering the hope of

humanity, Ashley brought to bear a power that transcended mortality.In the skies above Lea Monde, two different "Darks" began to

intertwine----.Epilogue: Shouldering the World-- A Vagrants Story Begins

Where do Dark-stained souls go when they die?The mantle of Master of Lea Monde passed to a new bearer, and in the

process many new souls felt the touch of the Dark. All --excepting

one, of course-- were sent into the arms of an incomplete death.

Before, the spell songs etched into every wall of the City would trap

them within its bounds, forever confined on this side of Oblivion.

Insane and vicious, those rotted souls very presence served to

entice more of the Dark into the Wellspring, their hatred and pain

feeding it.But Lea Monde burned. Already in ruins before the blaze, the

fire-gutted corpse could no longer be called even a shell of its

former self. Unfortunately, those wretched souls once stuck within

it were not allowed the freedom brought by destruction, though their

cage was now gone. So where do they all go now?And what will happen to the survivors? That handful of people who

survived the fires and earthquakes that leveled the old City yet bear

the Darks taint. What will happen to them when they die?Ashley knows.A living bridge between the world of the Dark and the world of Mankind;

successor to pure power, Ashley Riot knows. The logic of Life, the

meaning of Death, and the Fate of those forever trapped in

between-------

It was late on a rainy evening, precisely one week after the extremist

religious cult Mullenkamp staged an attack on the estate of Duke

Bardorba. In the trading city of The Graylands, at his secondary

residence, a lone visitor begged an audience with the recuperating

Duke. It was hardly an appropriate hour for any visitor, let alone

one requesting personal audience with Duke Aldous Byron Bardorba on


22/24

his sickbed. Were this visitor anyone other than who he was, the

Chamberlain would have told him politely, but coldly, to call again

at a more suitable time of day, and have him shown out.However, this visitor showed the credentials of a VKP agent. This

was not someone the Chamberlain had the power to admit or dismiss,

he had to ask the Duke himself.

Thus it was that the visitor --Ashley Riot-- gained entrance to the

Dukes bedchambers.

Looking back, all the servants mentioned how the entire evening had

been somewhat odd, an air of vague abnormality suffusing everything.

Usually, the Duke was long asleep by that hour. Yet that night he

made no move to dim his candles, sitting up the whole evening as if

he were waiting for someone hed long expected to come.Upon showing Agent Riot in, the Chamberlain did as the Duke ordered,

having every servant within and nearby the Dukes private apartments,

including himself, withdraw. Predictably, of what then happened

between the two men there was not a single witness.Four and a half hours later, the Chamberlain returned to the rooms

to inquire after the situation. Suspicious at the complete lack of

sound from within, he entered without waiting for permission. Ashley

was nowhere to be seen. The Dukes body, hours dead, lay serenely

upon his bed, looking more at peace than he had in years.The VKPs reaction to the Dukes demise was swift. Their spies within

the residence had barely finished reporting the death before the

Coroners Squad was knocking on the door. Scant minutes later, the

Dukes apartments were cordoned off and the autopsy begun. No signs

were found of either external injury nor poisons. Given that he had

been ill for an extensive period of time, the logical conclusion was

that hed finally succumbed to it.Answer enough, as far as the public would be concerned. Yet there

remained the matter of Ashleys presence at the time and, unbeknownst

to most, his mission. The Riskbreaker may have found it necessary

to assassinate the Duke and, to avoid later troublesome

investigations, made the murder look like a natural death. Ashleys

position as the last man to see the Duke alive was evidence enoughof that possibility.Were this incident truly an extension of his mission concerning the

Mullenkamp attack a week prior, then it had been Ashleys judgment

that, for the peace and safety of Valendia, its most revered National

Hero needed to die. To do so for such reasons was well within his

rights as a Riskbreaker, so of course he would face no charges. In


23/24

fact, the VKP would throw all its might into a coverup, even going

so far as to brainwash any possible witnesses.

Thus, the entire residence was shut down and sealed off, the VKP fully

expecting a report from Ashley inside the hour, informing them of

a situation along the lines of their supposition.Twelve hours later, there was no report. There was no Ashley either,

VKP Headquarters realizing it could no longer locate its foremost

agent. In that instant, the VKPs attitude towards the situation made

a sudden about-face. Ashley had gone AWOL. It had become more likely

that the Dukes assassination was not for reasons of national

security, but for Ashleys own personal reasons. Given that, the now

former-Riskbreakers license to kill was rendered null and void. His

actions were no longer considered the erasure of a national threat,

but the premeditated murder of a high noble and renowned public

figure. The VKP immediately assembled and deployed a

search-and-capture team.Twenty-four hours after the Dukes demise an official, public

announcement labeled Ashley Riot the foremost suspect in the most

foul murder of the beloved Duke Aldous Byron Bardorba.

Yet, counter to the expectations of the VKPs top brass, the dragnet

they believed had been set up with lightning speed failed to capture

even the slightest trace of Ashleys whereabouts. It was almost as

if hed vanished from the Dukes bedchambers in a puff of smoke.

The entire search yielded only one lead, and a tiny one at that. A

sentry mentioned that while on routine patrol duty the night of themurder, he came across Inquisitor Callo Merlose, Ashleys assigned

partner in the Mullenkamp investigation, loitering on the outskirts

of the Dukes residence near the time of the murder. Prior to that

sighting, Inquisitor Merloses last report had come a week earlier,

mentioning the decision to pursue the cult to Lea Monde. It was

possible that she had been an accomplice to Ashley's crime.Unfortunately even that small lead came to a rapid dead end, for after

that single sighting she too disappeared just as thoroughly as Ashley

had

A steady, cold rain pelted the cobblestones. Ashley stood at the mouth

of a dim alleyway, quietly watching the Dukes bedchamber window.

He stood patiently, waiting. Sydney Losstarot had borrowed his face

and his name for one last visit to the Duke, and he would be returning

shortly.And return he did; in soul, anyway. His body had turned to black ash


24/24

a little while before. With him came the Duke, their deaths

intertwined, as decreed by their unique compact with the Dark.Lea Monde was gone. Its rune-carved walls destroyed, they could no

longer bind the Dark-cursed dead. Instead, as one they flowed into

a new vessel--- Ashley himself. Accepting an uncountable number of

souls, an uncountable number of lost dreams, Ashley provided a

peaceful haven for every last, condemned one.

Hed come to terms with being Master of the Dark and his duty, as

he saw it, was not to rule, but to stabilize. Unlimited power had

been granted him not to use as he pleased, but to enable him to smooth

out the wrinkles where the world of the Dark collided with Reality.As Master of the Dark, Ashley knows. The path the survivors of Lea

Monde will take is as plain as day to him. Callo, Tieger, Neesa, even

young Joshua; any road they choose will inevitably lead to him. If

not in life, then of a certainty in death. Their flight to paradise

could go no other way.Under the black leather trench coat, his destiny inked fine lines

across his back. Shouldering the burdens implicit in that contract,

Ashley turned away from the now-bustling residence and began to walk.

The rain-drenched alley ran ahead of him, the beginning of an endless

path into a place of eternal twilight, a place unfathomable to the

mortal mind; the seam where Reality and Magic melt together.And so begins the story of the wanderer---- the vagrant.

Documents

The Vagrant Story