This is the second part of a chapter series I'm writing focused for now on Mantarin and the goings on there. So, here is part two, and for the new folks who might want to have half a clue what's going on, part one can be found at http://evilpeer.net/nurpg/ in the 'Current' section for 09.28.00 . So, here goes nothing...

-Heather (Jan/Daniel/Sena/Istvan....) NuRPG Character Approver

Transformations 2 - Tangled Web

Istvan called to the void, part of his daily routine of meditation. He was surprised when it answered back so forcefully, but he did not hesitate. He allowed his soul to be swallowed. The other disciples broke off their mantras, uncertain what the sudden disappearance of one of their number meant. It had been a holy number, and connected them to the heavens. They stared at one another, faith shaken to various degrees. One bolted from the room, escaping the startled silence to retrieve one of their masters.

* *

It was not what he expected. Was his body that attached to his soul, to follow it through the void? The air burned in his lungs. This was not anything like he had been taught. The walls here were steel and there was grating under his feet. There were windows all around him over looking a barren wasted landscape, and a road. Someone, some creature, was advancing upon him.

He had touched the void, but this was not it. Istvan reached for it again, like a child crying to return to the safety of its mother's womb. The world began to shake as it touched antithesis. The burning in his lungs was growing intolerable, poison air mingling freely with his blood, touching his mind. He collapsed, unaware of the devastation he had unleashed on the watchtower.

* *

He was aware of a sensation of falling as he woke. It felt like waking from a dream of falling, only he could not recall the dream. He opened his eyes, and discovered he was lying in the air. The walls around him did not appear to be moving. His fall had been arrested, then. Or had he been floating here, and simply woken from a dream? Istvan did not know.

This was not the void, nor was it any room in the temple in Ker Tiav that he had seen before. It was a new place, though he had no recollection of the transition. He coughed, aware again of the pain in his lungs. A few experimental breaths told him that it would not go away immediately, but that it was tolerable. His body was hardy; it was adapting. He noticed that his breath condensed in the air, though he was not cold.

When he tried to sit up, he found himself restrained somehow. Likewise, he found he could not speak. This disturbed him; he did not like the idea of having been rendered so powerless. He could see nothing more of the room than the walls and ceiling, and these by moving his eyes. They were a dull grey metal, and there might have been patches of frost on them as well.

Infinite questions ran through his mind, but he quickly realized that he could answer none of them, and that they only served to confuse him further. Instead of dwelling on them, he cleared them all from his mind. He had been so close to touching the true Divine back at the monestary, and then something had interfered. He had tried again, he recalled, but the poison air had overcome him. It was possible he could touch it, and if he could even focus some of the resonance of creation that existed in all things, he might be able to escape from whatever held him. His mouth could not form the words of the mantras, so he spoke them in his mind. He felt the familiar emptiness expanding, the growing void, and then sudden excruciating pain.

* *

"Get up."

The voice was guttural and commanding. Istvan moved to obey, believing for a moment that he was still at the monastery. A burst of pain in his forehead startled back the memory of his bizarre situation. He brought his hands to his head, as if he could banish the throbbing with a touch, and found his wrists were bound together. What was going on? There was blood on his fingertips. He traced a line of warm wetness down the side of his face. Blood seeped from where scales met flesh around his eyes. His entire head ached, and his lungs still felt irritated, but these pains were barely noticeable with everything else to occupy his nerves.

"I said get up. Now."

Standing above the monk was a cyclopean beast in a black robe. Istvan had never encountered anything like it before. It looked angrily down at him. He pulled himself to his feet. It nodded curtly, once and replied, "Good." At least, wherever he was, they had let him keep the dignity of his clothing. He thought it must be looking him over, its one eye measuring him up against unknown standards. The corners of its mouth managed something like a sneer, then its one eye blinked and narrowed. "So, they are calling you the Great Destroyer. They, of course, are uninformed pissants, but that's the military for you. Whatever." It shook its head, then banged a fist against the door of the cell. After a moment, it was opened, and a small tray was brought in by another alien being.

This one at least had two eyes, but no scales, and a round head covered by short blonde hair. It payed no attention to him, bowed briefly to the black-robed cyclops, and set a tray of metallic dishes down on the ledge where Istvan had just been lying. It bowed once again, then retreated out of the room. The monk met its eyes for a moment as it backed away. They were inscribed with terror. Great Destroyer? Of what? It was hard to concentrate on anything for long. His thoughts were fuddled, his mind further from clear and coherent than it had ever been.

"This is food, " the cyclops began again. Its tone continued to be patronizing. "It's primarily dead animal, so I hope you're not a vegetarian. It's your choice whether or not to eat, but you can rest assured that the only one who might care if you die of starvation will be the next occupant of this cell, when they have to share it with your freakish withered corpse." It grinned or grimaced again, it was unclear to him which, and gestured to the tray with a sweeping arm movement. "I'll give you a little time to consider this, and if you're still alive and conscious when I get back, I'll take you too meet someone who may have some plans for your future."

The cyclops banged on the door once more, and left when it was opened. Istvan could hear a conversation taking place outside, but couldn't make out anything that was being said.

He sat back down on the ledge beside the tray. There was no way of knowing how long it had been since he had eaten anything, or how long it had been since his last meditations. Most of the dishes contained small scoops of grey or pink paste or hash of some kind. There was a bowl of some clear liquid he hoped was water, and a small bowl of dark red beans in a cold sauce or soup. There was a short metal spoon as well, but no other cutlery. He picked it up, deciding that it would be best not to refuse what had been given, as he had no idea when or if something else might be offered.

Sometime later, after he had at least tasted all of the dishes and eaten what he felt he could, the cyclops returned. Istvan had been lying down again, trying to rest and ignore his unremitting headache. It ordered him to rise again, and follow through various passages and staircases. The architecture was overwhelmingly alien to Istvan, with its dark arching spires, spiralling staircases. He made an attempt to recall the route they were taking, but couldn't concentrate on that, either. They passed by other alien beings as well, but were moving so briskly that he had no time to do anything but notice them. Most of them wore black robes similar to those of the cyclops, some had various insignia on their collars, though they meant nothing to him. The cyclops, he thought, had one as well, but he couldn't identify it.

After climbing upwards quite some ways, they wound their way through a series of passages that seemed even more imposing than those below, and paused in front of a doorway guarded by two more black robed figures. The air here tasted of power, but Istvan couldn't quite reach it. It was unsettling for him, to be so out of touch with his surroundings, and with their divine energies. The other two bowed before the cyclops, and it addressed them.

"Tell the Adept that I have brought the prisoner."

One of the figures, the small blue-skinned one on the right, bowed again then turned and pressed a button on the wall beside it, and spoke. "Acolyte Vashka has brought the offworlder, Adept."

"Have her admit him, then," replied a disembodied voice. Istvan had heard that some states on his world possessed similar technology, but he was certain now that he was not on his world. The comment, if not the aliens who surrounded him, confirmed it.

The two guards who flanked the door stepped aside, and the cyclops put a hand against the door. He noticed there was no handle on this side, and at the same time felt a swelling of energy from Acolyte Vashka. His mind was too unfocussed to do more than sense it. Green fire spread out from the hand on the door, spreading outward until it bordered the frame. The wood or metal had been burned away, and a shimmering field of energy remained. The cyclops took away its hand, smiling smugly, and waved Istvan forward. He stepped in through the field.

On the other side was a circular room, a study filled with bookcases reaching to the ceiling high above. Light shone in from a domed skylight. In the centre of the room, a figure dominated a desk covered in orderly stacks of papers and thin metal tablets. It stood and stared at him, looking him over as critically as the cyclops had. It was the same type of creature as the blonde-haired servant that had brought in his food, only this one had reddish hair tied in complicated ropes that hung to just below its waist. It wore an open black jacket over a longer maroon robe.

"Sit, Istvan," it commanded, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. He advanced and did so, as it came around and stood in front of him. It placed its hands on either side of his head, and whispered a sound with no words. His headache receded, and the world came back into focus. The Adept stepped back, and continued to look down at him. "I know who you are, Istvan Nemuria of Ker Tiav, Disciple of the Order of Null. Your mind, your thoughts, your memories, are all open to me. You can hide nothing. If you attempt to draw any power to yourself again, you will be killed instead of incapacitated. You have been under the effects of a confusion spell, which I have now lifted. You are smart enough to know that most of your questions are not important, and that you have no authority to get them answered anyway. I know you understand what I'm saying, so let's not try to fool each other." The Adept nodded at him, then turned and walked around to the other side of the desk, settling down into the chair there. It still cut an imposing figure, and Istvan decided to remain quiet, and still. The Adept smirked, and continued.

"Your naivety in certain regards amuses me, little monk. I am a woman, ease your mind on that one. As is Acolyte Vashka. Rest assured, you will quickly be made familiar with our ways. And you are right. This is not your home. This is Madden Ur, and you have been called here by destiny. You seek the Divine, Istvan, and the Divine has told me that he wishes to be found by you... Your outburst in the watchtower when you arrived here nearly cost you your life, so you are very lucky indeed that we Adepts have such sway. Yes, that entire area is now under quarantine, with several Dashim overseeing the stabilization of the landscape. The first scout patrols we sent after we lost contact found you there, in the middle of the devastation, and were afraid to touch you. There was a wraithling in the group, not that it means anything to you now.

"What I want with you, Istvan, is simple. I want to see you become Enlightened. After that, I assure you everything will become clear."

* *

Sena shook her head, and sighed. It was a beautiful day to be outside. The wind was alive with the promise of a storm, her favourite type of weather. She was too busy to enjoy it, unfortunately, as there were things she needed to get ready. It seemed that was all she spent her time doing these days, preparing for the ambiguous future of her town, and of herself. There was no time to enjoy the present. When she was not preparing, she was assisting either Cerl or Marcelen. Neither of them needed her at the moment, and since she lacked their company, she had not turned away some of the village children when they turned up at her door. She was glad not to be alone, and she thought they must have sensed it. Some of them had been apprehensive when they entered, but had since relaxed into the chores she had assigned them. They were sorting through her ever-growing stock pile of herbs, making sure everything was in its proper place, ensuring there was plenty of everything. Once this was finished, she would put away some for her personal use when she left. The rest would be for the community, as their resources would be limited then.

"What does this one do, aunt Sena?" Chotee, a niece through the community, held up a dirty white root with two stalks of yellowed leaves at the top. Chotee had a good eye for herbs, and would soon be allowed to learn more of their important uses from another aunt. Sena would have liked to teach her, but it seemed that wouldn't be possible. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind, and smiled.

"That's traveller's root, Chotee. It should go in to basket at the end of the table."

"With the auroc auroc seeds?"

"That's very good, you're quite clever with these, aren't you?"

"My mommy says that's what goes in the special drink for the inn, only it was made wrong last time, because the funny man didn't go up to the hill with the other grownups."

Sena laughed at that. She liked to laugh, when she could, and that incident was still fresh enough to do the trick. "Oh, silly girl! Tell your mother that we didn't want him to go with us anyway, he was a big doody head, right?"

To think, they hadn't noticed that it was only a spirit possessing a corpse. And they had given it the drug... no wonder it had asked for more. It was probably one of the few things it would find on this world to give the body any strength and keep it whole... Sena had never learned very much about the undead, but she knew enough about life and death to fill in the gaps between. The little girl giggled, as did some of the other volunteer sorters. They were almost finished here, and their parents wouldn't appreciate her sending them home after the rain started. It would be quicker, she decided, to finish up herself, and maybe sneak off for a short walk. Apparently agreeing with her plans, a gust of air buffeted the side of her hut, rustling noisily through the thatch.

"Now, I'll bet you little munchkins all have other chores you're shirking that need to get done before the storm, and you don't want to get me in trouble, do you?" She was smiling still, and some of the children flashed each other conspiratorial glances, but she knew none of them would really object. Geordie and Valen, the twins, snickered a bit more mischievously to themselves, so she flashed them an especially imploring look. "If you get me in trouble, now when will I ever find the time to make a batch of cinnamon taffies for my best helpers?"

"Really, aunt Sena?" She watched the promise of candy spread wide-eyed anticipation across their little faces, and laughed again.

"How could I refuse you anything? Especially not with the promise of a nice slimy frog in my bed if I should forget!" She winked, and they looked down at the ground, feigning embarrassment. "Now that rain is going to come down any minute, so you all get going!" She passed out hugs as they departed, and briefly considered holding off the weather for the few minutes it would take for them all to reach their homes. She decided against it; she shouldn't teach them to depend on magick, especially when soon there would be much less of it available to them.

It took very little time for her to finish up the sorting and put all the baskets back where they belonged. The first splashes of rain were coming down now, spattering loudly on the muddy earth outside. She imagined a stirring in her womb, two tiny sets of fists reaching towards the air, two faint heartbeats pulsing with the falling rain. She smiled. Lightning illuminated the mountains outside her window and moments later thunder formally announced the commencement of the storm. She followed its invitation outside.

There were others enjoying nature's display, but Sena only greeted them from afar. Other young people were laughing together, spirits raised by the release of the downpour. For Sena it was solitary weather, and she wrapped her woolen shawl, wet but still warm, around her shoulders and headed out of town. She didn't head towards the cave of the Lifetree, since she knew the atmosphere there would be bleak. It wasn't what she needed. There were other caves in the mountains, other secret places of solitude, and she headed to one of these.

Her skirts, already heavy with water, swirled around her slowly, and the wind whipped her unbound hair around her face. She decided to run for awhile, to feel the stronger beat of her own heartbeat, her lungs working harder to draw in air, to feel more alive. She quickly reached the edge of the forest at the base of the mountains, and slowed down. The canopy here kept the rain out, forcing it to drip more slowly from leaf to leaf to the ground. All the paths here were familiar, and she chose one that would soon bring her to an open grove of gnarled apple trees. The sounds of the storm were muted by the trees, making the forest seem a sacred shelter just for her. The forest whispered a greeting, and she was aware of every life around her. She could sense the animals taking cover in their burrows from the weather. A fawn and its mother huddled together in a dense thicket of alders, some wrens nestled together in the tree tops high above, rustling their feathers to shed dripping water and protect against the wind. She sensed other lives as well, a burrow of rabbits sleeping together, a pair of wild chocobo foraging despite the weather, a familiar pack of wolves who hunted the woods...and with them, a young human life.

They were close. Sena frowned, slightly worried, and headed off the path towards them. It wasn't very often that the animals here would bother the villagers, and she thought she had seen most of the children at her house. There had been more offworlders stumbling through their lands lately, though, and some had been fairly young. She remembered when she, Jan, Janus and Crono had found Mykil in the mountains, and briefly wondered where fate had finally lead him. The lightning flash that answered her thought left her with an unpleasant feeling. She had tried her best for him... now there was perhaps someone else who needed aid. She reached out again with her magick, and sought the pattern of the youth's life. It was a familiar one, and she smiled, relieved at least for that. She was already close to the pack, so she called out in case they didn't recognize her scent for all the rain.

"Spencer?"

She could hear rustling now, and some growls and whispers, but she had to push her way though some thicker underbrush before she saw them, six wolves in all, and Spencer. They were all huddled close together with him in the centre. They all looked wet, and the boy especially.

"Aunt Sena?" He sniffed guiltily. One of the wolves snarled at her, but he patted at it's ears. It might have been a strange picture, if he had been any normal boy from any normal town, and Sena any normal aunt. She frowned, then changed her voice, and growled softly in return. The one who had snarled looked away from her, and the pack parted. Spencer stood nervously, then ran over to her and buried his head in her open arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was gonna start raining so fast."

"Shhh," she soothed, and dropped on her knees down to his level. The wolves, happy to see the boy back with his own kind, had dispersed to find better shelter for themselves. "It's alright, sweetie, we'll go back to the village and take you home. Just let me dry you off so you don't catch a cold..." He nodded, and she bent forward and kissed his forehead. The water from his hair and clothing was expelled outward, and the water from above simply fell around him. She could have done the same for herself, only she enjoyed the wetness and had no fears of falling ill.

"I just wanted to help the elf lady find some food." Spencer was still pouting, upset at being alone in the storm as much as at being caught. Sena was simply glad to see him safe, and shook her head as she lifted him up onto her hip. He was a little old for it, but she was as strong as her nurturing instincts.

"It's okay..." she repeated, thoughts of her walk abandoned. By the time she brought Spencer home, it would be too late to venture back out before she was needed agin, and she had lost the mood. Spencer was special, yes, but he still shouldn't have been out so far alone. His parents had probably assumed he was with her and the other children, and would be quite worried by now. That had possibly been his plan, if he had intended to slip off. Children thought the world to be so simple at times, when it could be very dangerous.

"But she's all alone and scared and she can't talk to anybody, and I just wanted her to be okay in the rain." He was crying now, and she stroked his head as he leaned into her chest. He had such a warm heart... She sighed.

"You have to go home now, dear, and make sure your mother and father and everyone else knows you are alright. If you really want to help the elf lady, then we can go find her after, when the storm is over, and maybe she'll come and stay with us instead of running off into the wasteland, okay? " She knew who he meant, the 'elf lady' that Janus had brought with him when he had returned to Mantarin with Schala. She had heard nothing from those two since that night, though she had caught flashed of the elf girl once or twice in the woods, or close to the desert. It was a wonder she had found her way back, but maybe not so amazing she had survived if Spencer had been helping her at all. The boy seemed satisfied with her answer for now, nodding briefly and settling back down to muted sniffles. If it were only so easy for her.... Dealing with the mystery woman was not something else she needed to add to the tension of the town, but she knew that Spencer wouldn't let her forget now that he'd let her in on his secret. She would have to tell Cerl as well, and Marcelen. Maybe this was all connected to the coming events. The web of fate shot tendrils throughout the world, and pulled all lives together, after all.

* *

End, for now. Two very different sections, not really related, but time shall tell a different story... Thoughts? Questions? Criticisms? Death threats? Offers for monetary compensation? Anything?

-Heather -- Well I lived with a child of snow when I was a soldier, and I fought every man for her until the nights grew colder.

She used to wear her hair like you except when she was sleeping, and then she'd weave it on a loom of smoke and gold and breathing.

-Leonard Cohen, "Winter Lady"