In Beaucedine Glacier, the temperature had plummeted beyond mortal endurance. The frozen north, already a wasteland marked by prolonged periods of darkness and endless, driving blizzards, had grown significantly less hospitable as the pall of Dynamis extinguished the sun. Beasts of all sort which roamed the tundra now stayed hidden in their caves, or began slow migrations south. Giant automatons which guarded the entry points to Pso'Xja were frozen over now, sheets of ice covering the man-made golems and holding them stiffly in place. Beaucedine was now home to only one thing which moved freely, unfettered by the cold. Upon the snow drifts, as high as a Gigas's shoulders in some places, the countless legions of demons roamed. Hundreds upon thousands of them, blackening the snow as much as they did the skies. They did not rage against their captivity, nor fight amongst themselves. Millennia of confinement had taught them patience. Their freedom was at hand, and they could wait however long it took.
Also amongst them were the strongest of the beastmen. The Vanguard who stood at the forefront of Dynamis's most elite soldiers resided in Beaucedine. Stronger and fiercer by far than those whom had invaded the Middle Lands, they too bided their time until they could run free across the world of the living. Orc, Quadav, Yagudo, and Goblin alike trudged through the endless snow. Thus the landscape, which stretched out further than the eye could see, was transformed into a frozen hell riddled with fiends. No light or warmth entered Beaucedine Glacier, and any living thing which came upon it would find only death waiting. The dark, gray skin of the Vanguard reflected the environment in which they thrived.
Doshu hovered just above the snow, frigid winds whipping at the Shadow Mantle. In the depths of Beaucedine's darkness, it blended in with his surroundings, making him appear almost invisible. As it billowed, the dark folds crawled over him, alternatingly swallowing parts of his figure in its black embrace. He floated silently forward, bothered not by the cold. Such concerns were well beneath him now. Like a wraith he traveled, moving across the raging snow, unmolested by Kindred or Vanguard. Those few which acknowledged him gave him a wide berth, knowing his destination. None dared to stand in his way as he crested the snow-covered hills. The wind driving past him, the Aht Urghanian floated down a long, narrow ramp of ice. Fei'Yin rose in the horizon.
Doshu halted at the bottom of the ramp to appraise the imposing gray tower. Fei'Yin had stood in Beaucedine Glacier since before the rise of man. Its purpose was a time-lost memory known only to the Zilart, the race which predated the Children of Altana. A few of their kind still walked Vana'diel, but they were few and far between. The spires of Fei'Yin stretched up towards the darkened sky above, eternally reaching for some unknown goal. Doshu let his eyes wander towards the heavens. He knew what Fei'Yin was there for, and he would make use of it soon.
Returning to the matter at hand, he settled down in the snow. It crunched beneath his heel, and immediately swallowed his leg up to the knee. Not feeling the cold, he began trudging forward, cutting a trail which marked his passage. Frigid winds assailed him, but he marched unflinchingly into the darkness enveloping Fei'Yin. He had an appointment to keep.
As he grew closer to the smooth, gray towers of the ancient structure, he felt the oppressive weight of eyes upon him. From the shadows he could see burning, unblinking eyes gazing at him as he passed. Pukis were known only in the darkest lore, stories lost to humanity since the world was young. Yet here in Dynamis's grasp, a few yet remained. Dragons of such power as to dwarf that of the Apocalytpic Beast unleashed in Buburimu, they yet remained locked in the icelands. One day soon he would be able to unleash them. Until then, he merely walked on past. Though their balefully glowing eyes followed him, they did not leave the confines of the darkness in which they dwelled. Even the beasts were aware of Doshu's meeting, and dared not interrupt.
Halting in his tracks, Doshu's dark eyes drfited up the length of Fei'Yin. Even in brighter times, it had been intimidating. A hulking mass of depressing gray which sat in the wide canyon, it emanated an aura of crushing hopelessness. The lair within was a haven for the undead, and their malevolent hunger for the living permeated the air. Now that Dynamis had fully overtaken the area, plunging it into darkness, the Zilartian construct felt almost alive with malice. Though that may have had more to do with its newest inhabitant.
Judging himself to be in the proper position, Doshu dropped down to one knee. His hair fell before his eyes as he lowered his head, staring down at the snow he was sinking into. A swirl of freezing wind brushed past him as he waited. For the first time since entering the glacier, the man in black felt cold rushing through his bones. He shivered openly, his body involuntarily spasming as the heat was drained from it. Ice formed on the fringes of his soul. The wind passed, but the warmth was slow in returning as Doshu crooked his chin upwards. Above the spot where he kneeled, the blackened sky was coming to life.
It started, as it had before, with the smile. A grin of far too many teeth began gleaming in the air as the sound of beating wings began to echo through the canyon. Rows of spiral incisors ending in pointed tips materialized, hovering in place as a thin pair of blackened lips surrounded them. Two enormous bat wings appeared above a long, devilish tail, flapping rhythmically against a mass of gray flesh. Mounds of dark, sagging skin faded into view as stubby limbs surmounted by hooked claws began scratching at the air. Lastly, as it always did, came the eye. One single enormous eye, with an iris deep as the abyss. Mounted in the center of the creature which appeared, it comprised the majority of its body. That hovering, piercing eye emitted a pale amber glow as it focused in on Doshu. Blurred edges around the being solidified, and the man in black stood to face it directly.
"Hello again, Angra Mainyu," he gave a deep bow, flourishing his ebon cape.
Angra Mainyu's single eye gazed intently at Doshu as his wings beat slowly against the freezing air. He was an Ahriman, an ancient creature born of forbidden magic. They existed all across the more treacherous areas of Vana'diel. The cyclopean creatures preyed on weaker magics, cannibalizing other eldritch forces to slake their own diabolical thirst. However, to call Angra Mainyu an Ahriman was to call a dragon an eft. In all the world of dreams Doshu and his cabal had unleashed, nothing more terrifying than Angra Mainyu had poured through the breach.
His one burning gray eye slowly rotated from left to right, wings slowly folding and unfolding around his colorless skin. A mouth full of conical fangs greeted Doshu as Angra Mainyu hovered over him. Facing the beast without fear, he took a step forward and awaited acknowledgement.
"Doshu," the Ahriman's voice was shrill, and echoed upon itself. One word from him sounded like he was shouting into a canyon, the syllables repeating endlessly, running over one another. A breath drew into his elongated mouth, a sound like a distant gale brushing through the Elvaan's ears. "You are alone."
He inclined his head ever so slightly. "The others . . . do not need to know everything."
Angra Mainyu's great, unblinking eye stared at him intently. "They will find you out sooner or later, Doshu. It is a dangerous game you play."
He scoffed, flaring out his cape as he returned the Ahriman's glare. "The Thief already knows, but is smart enough not to challenge me. Attack is too blinded with his own lust for power to so much as look at me the wrong way. And even if Secure knew, I doubt he would care. He's smart enough to keep our goals in sight."
The one-eyed monster's lips curled into a fanged smile. "Are you sure it is not you whom is blinded?"
He clenched his fists defiantly. "My eyes are wide open, Angra Mainyu. My vision is clear."
"So you say," the Ahriman's voice echoed, "Such an assertion is meaningless to one who sees all."
"Precisely why I have come to you," Doshu cut to the point. "My plans are reaching a critical juncture. I must be made aware of any elements which have escaped my notice, any random factors I have overlooked. I have need of your vision, great Angra Mainyu."
"Feh," its smile widened, teeth clenching to form a wall of fangs. "And why should I aid you more than I already have?" In a sudden wave of darkness, the creature vanished. One moment he was there, and the next nothing but a void of black filled the air. Doshu spun around to find him hovering behind him, his grin still clenched. "Your games would be so much fantasy were it not for my aid. The Shadow Mantle and Ring, Annihilator, entry into Dynamis - all made possible by me."
"You have as big a stake in this as we do, Angra Mainyu," Doshu reminded him angrily. "It was you who sought us out, after all."
The widening grin was coupled with a brief peal of laughter. The sound was akin to a swarm of bats bursting forth from a cave. "Did I truly? Or did your journey simply lead you to me?" There was another blossoming of darkness, and his form was erased from Doshu's sight. Immediately the Ranger looked up, feeling the wind beat down on him as Angra Mainyu appeared high in the air. "There are still prizes to be won in this great game," he mused, turning his single eye down piercingly at the Elvaan. Gradually, he began to descend. Before long man and monster stood face-to-face, and the Ahriman's gleaming gray eye stared into Doshu's heart. "And as you know, we will all assuredly die should we fail."
Doshu's own eyes were frigid. "Do you not think the reward worth the risk?"
A hiss came from Angra Mainyu's lips as they curled back. "I do not think you even fathom what is at stake, or will know what to do once you have it." Doshu's angry retort was cut off by another squeal of laughter. "Still yourself. I will tell you what I see."
He had known all along, of course, that Angra Mainyu would. His taunts never ceased to grow frustrating, however. Having to constantly cajole the use of his vision out of him was becoming tiring. For now, the Ahriman was far too powerful for Doshu to even consider tearing down. That situation would change, though, if he just held his patience.
"Thank you, Angra Mainyu," he managed to sound convincing. "I am grateful for your aid, as always."
The ancient terror did not respond. His eye was already fixed on the distance. "So many yet dream," he grumbled, smile waning. "So many still fight the nightmare." A flap of gray skin stretched upwards, hooding his gaze as he began slowly floating above Doshu's head. His shadow fell upon the Elvaan, and a chill which the freezing winds of Beaucedine had not been able to give him ran through his bones.
"The Samurai's Son rushes to the east to join his companions. Bahamut's Servant waits outside the Dragon King's Tomb, seeking to rouse that which lays within. A Stalwart Shield travels north from Heaven's Tower to separate the White and Red. The King of Onzozo will return to reclaim his throne. The Shining Knight is in the desert sands, where he will battle the endless horde. And in the south, the Favoured One will enter the Temple of the Heartless God." Angra Mainyu's eye slid open. He peered down at Doshu with an expression far more serious than before. "All of these elements will conspire to threaten your master plan. They must be dealth with." A moment of silence passed as the Ahriman slowly beat his wings. "The Four Winds are still active."
"Neutralized," Doshu dismissed. "They dare not use their powers while apart from one another or we will find and kill them in an instant."
"Perhaps," his shrill voice was distant. "Should they reunite everything is in jeopardy."
"Then they will not," the Elvaan's tone darkened. "Thank you, Angra Mainyu. That was everything I needed to know."
That piercing eye settled on Doshu one last time, lips curling back slightly again. "Good luck then, mortal. Your siege of the Yagudo stronghold will yield many surprises for you."
"Will I succeed?"
Angra Mainyu turned his gaze to the distance once more, but only briefly. Within moments he returned his eye to meet Doshu's inquisitive stare.
"Yes," he answered.
"Then let surprises come as they may." Clutching the folds of the Shadow Mantle, he drew it tightly about himself. "Next time, I will bring the others, so as to alleviate their fears. I will pretend this meeting never happened."
Angra Mainyu laughed once again. "Games within games. I think I shall be sad when our ultimate goal is attained. It will mean the fun leading up to it has ended."
"I doubt, great Angra Mainyu," Doshu replied, "that there will be anything for us to be sad about after we have won."
"True enough," he laughed, "true enough indeed. Farewell for now, mortal."
"Farewell," Doshu echoed. A moment later, both were gone. The freezing winds of Beaucedine Glacier blew sheets of ice over where he had stood, and within moments there was no trace they had been there at all.
No one save a few prowling demons were in Jeuno when Doshu returned. Most of the forces which had taken Jeuno were already on the move. Castle Oztroja was as powerful a fortress as existed in the Middle Lands, but it would fall. In a way, he admired these westerners plight as they banded together with beastmen in their mutual bid for survival. He had made alliances of his own, however, and very strongly doubted his own army would even come into play. He did not get where he was by taking chances, though. Oztroja would meet with all the crushing power he could bring to bear.
"Now these random factors in my equation," Doshu mumbled, ascending the steps towards the Ducal throne, "they must be dealt with."
The King of Onzozo would be easy enough. If he were indeed making a bid to reclaim his lost caves, the outcome was simple to predict. Still, he would send a bit of insurance along to guarantee the Beastmaster was neutralized. He did not know this Favoured One Angra Mainyu spoke of, but he recognized the destination as the Temple of Uggalepih. That one troubled him. Ultimately, he decided it would be best to use his eyes and ears in the jungles of Yuhtunga to determine how best to proceed. The Shining Knight was already as good as dead if he were truly planning to fight with the Anticans. Bahamut's Servant he had no choice but to let operate freely, but a trap had to be laid in place for after his task was complete.
Then there were the other two he had been warned of. The Samurai's Son and the Stalwart Shield.
"Attack," Doshu called into his linkpearl, raising it to his lips.
There was no response for a long moment. The wizard was still recuperating from his battle with Vile. The revelation that a sorcerer of Vile-Revile's might had survived and stood against them was a nuisance, but little more than that. Finally, the trail end of a coughing spell split the silence, and the Tarutaru's voice rang from the pearl in Doshu's hand.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "I am deep in meditation."
"And I apologize for disturbing you," he placated, "but I have need of your guardian. Will you send him here?"
"Fine," came the snarling response. "but I must concentrate."
"Of course," Doshu said, leaning back in the throne of Jeuno. "I shall be in the throne room. Have him meet me there."
He let his linkpearl drop down. Pyramiding his fingers, he scanned the room with his dark eyes. Attacks's bodyguard would do for the Stalwart Shield. That left one more.
"Come to me, my Dark Hand," he called to the empty hall.
The stillness of the chamber was broken by a fierce rush of motion. Seemingly from nowhere, a form materialized at the bottom of the steps before Doshu's throne. Draped in a light armor blood red in color and wrapped in black cloth, a man appeared, kneeled in the Elvaan's presence. His face was wrapped up tightly in a traditional Ninja's mask, and only his blazing red eyes were visible.
"Yes, Lord Doshu," the Ninja responded, keeping his gaze downcast.
"Rise, servant," he intoned, opening the folds of his cloak. "I have a gift for you."
The Ninja stood straight, fists clenched as he looked up the steps towards the throne. Doshu rose as well, withdrawing a slim blade from the Shadow Mantle. It glinted in the dim light as a wave of force suddenly sent a tremor through the room.
"You know we hold four prisoners, bound to the Mothercrystals in preparation for our final rite."
The Ninja nodded. "I was among those who removed them from Attohwa Chasm."
Doshu held out his fist. In his grasp was a katana, the blade bright and blue. It pulsated in his hand, and the Ninja's eyes widened at the sight of it. "Recently, we discovered one of them was hiding this. I have a task for you, and it."
"I live to serve you, Lord Doshu." he said mechanically. Doshu acknowledged the statement with a nod of his head. It was true, ater all.
"Then I bestow upon you Kikoku, my Dark Hand. Find the man called Demyn and use its power to kill him."
The Dark Hand took the weapon in his grasp. He shuddered at its touch, and tendrils of a bluish smoke rose from his hand as Kikoku bonded to him. The relic katana had been an unexpected discovery, but a providence Doshu was not about to let go to waste. The Ninja's eyes brightened, red beacons in the dimly lit hall.
"With this, no one will be safe from your Dark Hand," he assured.
"Go," Doshu commanded, "return here when Demyn breathes no more." With that dismissal, he returned to the throne. By the time he turned around, his Ninja was gone.
Almost simultaneously, the great brass door to the chamber swung open, and a massive shadow spread across the thin shaft of light it allowed.
"Ah, you're here," he welcomed, gesturing Attack's bodyguard to enter. "I hope you're ready for an assignment."
The Galka, as big as some of the Trolls Doshu was used to seeing and sporting even thicker armor, cracked the marble floor as he lumbered forward. His sausage-thick fingers clenched and unclenched as he walked, dull eyes staring up at the Elvaan with what limited facilities he possessed. At least, Doshu thought, relieved, his rank odor was gone. Cooped up with him as he healed must have been too much for even Attack, as he knew the Galka would only bathe when ordered.
Still, some operations required a scalpel. For that he had his Dark Hand. Others needed a sledgehammer.
"I been stuck in that room so long now," the Galka rumbled, "feels like I just face the wall all day. I wanna kill somethin'."
"Good," Doshu couldn't help but grin. This was the best kind of sledgehammer. The kind which was perfect for what it did, and never aspired to do anything else. "I need you to succeed where Secure has failed, Bloodied Sword."
"I'm gonna destroy Winnurst?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his shaved head.
Doshu shook his head. "No, we'll have to go back there some other time. I need you to kill just one man. His name is Meowolf."
"Stalwart Shield," Bloodied Sword snarled, lips curling downward. "Figgers he'd still be kickin'. Well I'll put him underground, boss. Just point me in the right direction."
"I knew I could count on you. Don't forget your shield."
He chuckled, a surprisingly childlike sound. "Never do, boss. Oh, and no more Bloodied Sword."
"Oh?" Doshu cocked an eyebrow.
"Way I figger it, that's a Bastokan name, an' there ain't no Bastok no more. No point in usi' a dead name, right?"
The Elvaan laughed briefly. From the mouths of fools, he thought. "Very true. So then, is it Dracu?"
He flashed Doshu a nod and a hauntingly terrifying grin. "Dracu it is."
"Then go with my blessing, Dracu. Bring me back Meowolf's shield."
"I'm gonna use it as a platter boss. I'll serve you up his whole head."
Dracu delivered a clumsy bow, and turned to leave. Doshu watched Attack's bodyguard go, content that all his loose ends would soon be tied off.
So the Elvaan sat alone on the throne of Jeuno, contemplating the dark future of Vana'diel as his hordes marched inexorably closer to their goal.
He would sleep well tonight. Come tomorrow, he would watch the fall of Castle Oztroja. And his dream would be that much closer to becoming real.
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