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Thursday, June 22, 2006

Hey everyone. Well I haven't been writing on my Lumeria story lately, so I am going to start writing on it again. ^_^
Here was the last 2 chapters!

Chapter 1

In the lands of Lumeria, far into the east, there is a small country known as Garudia. Also known as the Forest of Shadow, tall dense trees with trunks the size of elephants rise high into the skies, with the biggest touching over the clouds miles above. Under the large branches and leaves, only the slightest of light touches the forest floor, leaving darkness to rule and figures, like shadows, to walk it. Only the River of Theadon and the mountains of Herard separate this forest country from the rest of the Lumerain world.
In this forest, across a certain part of the Theadon river, there is a path that is rugged and harsh to travel, where only the most mastered of tracking could follow. For hours, this trail leads deeper and deeper into the forest, away from even a sign of day above, where beast of unknown lurks in the dark ahead. Further and further you will travel, by light would be the choice, until you come to a wall of tangle vines and thick undergrowth. To this point, it seems that there is no way through, but look harder and you would find a small opening under the mess of vines.
Walking through, you would come to an opening, sun shining from the open spaces above. Green grass and delicate flowers being underfoot, and a small beaten dirt path. only a few yards away to where the dirt road leads is a tree that is bigger than all the rest, its trunk so large that not even five giants could reach its arms around and even so taller that not even ten could reach its top. A steel door of 10' tall was built to where the path stopped, and many windows, bared by steel also, covered up its massive side. On branches there were doors weapons perched on each. And above the door was the grandest sight of all, a Gryphon of Gold, nailed to the tree itself in all its pride and power. This was the base of the Golden Gryphon.
The Golden Gryphon, though only a whisper in the other Lumerian Countries, are a group of talented and extremely trained individuals. To many, they are heroes in the dark forest. But to some, they are the bane of all their work and power, taking away their control of the land, for they spark hope in all of a better life without the control of others. To put it best, there are no followers, but leaders that stand by each other and works together in ways that others only wish they could.
But, saints are not these people, for they do not accommodate their powers for free. Even though they only work for the forces of good, they still take payment, large amounts, to keep their coffers full. And even so, many of them came here from lives hidden or of terrible memorance. This is the second chance, an escape, and a challenge for these individuals. Despite this, they still look to defeat evil as much as possible. This is their goal and this is there lives. None can change it now.

Sitting alone in his room at the top of the tree, Syilos watched as the sun rise from his open hutch, the dark red rays shooting into his room. Shielding the glare from his small, silver eyes, he could not help but smile in this moment. As the light bared down upon him, he stood up in his naked form, a gaunt but strong muscular structure glowing from the tint of blue skin, beautiful in every nature. Even his hair, the dark gray from his scalp, was silky and showed much of the way he was, touching his lower back in a long braid.
Deciding to get ready for the day, he opens a drawer in his dresser and pulled out a pair of black cotton pants, sliding them on and fastening them with a belt. Then, he closed that one and opened another to retrieve a deep blue shirt and pulled it over his head. Finally, he grabbed a long strips of cloth from the bottom drawer and wrapped them around his feet and hands.
To some, this was awkward to see someone using these cloth wrappings, seeing no point in their use. But, they are fools in the mind of Syilos, who used them for comfort in the blue steel armor that was sitting on its display in the corner of his room. Going to it, he began to don it over him, taking much time, no rush, for perfection and no problems with it. Then, ending with the boots and gauntlets, he knew that he would not come home with blisters and calices upon his hand or feet, flesh still clean and pure as the day he was born.
As he completed himself with the his double-bladed sword, both sides sheathed in superb leather, he was unaware of the flying figure that was heading towards his hutch. As the sun began to turn to shadow, he could not help but growl and whispered slander under his voice.
Falling in from the hutch, Ark laughed as he ruffled his feathery red hair, clawed hands combing through it. He was about nine feet tale, with an average body build, if you can even call it that when he surpassed Syilos in every form. He was a beautiful Aerovan creature to say the least, with his eyes a cheerful and gentle yellow, his wings a black and red in the light of the sun, and a smile so charming that even a man can not help but smile or laugh. But for Syilos, this meant bothering and annoyance.
" What do you want, Ark Redhaven?" spoke a harden, yet still careful and musical voice of the Shadow elf.
Seeming hurt, Ark stopped smiling and just laughed nervous in his upbeat and quick sound. " Sorry, Syilos. I was ordered to come and get you this morning, cause no one wanted to walk all the way up here to get you... Seeming that you are the only one who enjoys the long walk. Do you really like walking 104 stories?"
" No, Ark. I do it to cause pure anguish and pain to myself... I just love the dreadful hype that it gives me," answered Syilos, a dark sarcasm releasing at Ark.
Again, he felt hurt by the hateful tongue of his fellow warrior, but took it all the same. " Ok, Syilos... Umm, we need to get down the tree. I think I will run down with you today, if that is alright?" Even the deafest ear could here the sound of worry in his voice, a defeated soul trying to recover.
Shrugging with annoyance, Syilos shook his head before telling him in the same sarcastic voice, " Why not? Come on. I am sure this will be fun." And then they were off through the large steel door in the far end of the room.

It was an hour before they reached the bottom, neither seeming to be exhausted from the long descend. As they were going down the last few floors though, a side door opened and out walked a beautiful and young Heaven Elf, dressed in a gown of gold and white that gave compliment to the glowing golden skin she wore, and glittering brazen hair. She was like an Angel from Paradise and many could not match her beauty, a simple sweet smile with a tinted golden eyes. A far great number would think her flawless in all her ways, but few knew her knack of bad luck and causing problems, such as walking out in front of Ark as he was coming down the stairs, causing him to jump over her and roll down the last four flights with several hard thuds.
" Oh my goodness," she gasped, watching him fall with hard thuds. Turning to Syilos,who was now at her side, was stricken with an impish grin upon his face.
Laughing, he turned to the Heaven Elf and stated, " Once again, Ora, you have proven to be a useful little creature. I thank you for allowing me such a wonderful display of entertainment," Bowing as every work snaked between his lips.
" As always, you are a cold hearted bastard to that kind creature... You do not deserve to be called a Gryphon you demented blackguard!" she screamed at him before rushing down the stairs to see if Ark was ok.
Down below, the dazed Ark only rubbed his head and stood up, looking like nothing more than a few bruises and scrapes found themselves upon him. As he looked up, he found the room to have a few others in the room, eying him curiously and questionably. Laughing, he looked up to see Ora finally making it to him.
" Are you ok, Ark?" she asked, pulling out her holy symbol of Heli' Dorion, a golden hand clasping a silver sword.
" I am fine. Just a little banged up. Nothing to worry your clerical powers," he said in his most reassuring voice, which at that moment was a mix between frightened and ashamed.
" Well, it doesn't matter," she bellowed at him," I am taking a look at you no matter your complaining." She knew well that he never spoke truly of his wounds in the past. Even to this day, she could never forgive him for one that almost took him from the world of the living.

Sitting by himself in a balcony above the commotion, a handsome young man could not help but shake his head and sigh. Pushing back the streaked blue and black hair from his soft green eyes, he combed with his hands and allowed it flow freely, hanging just above his shoulder. He had the face of a teenager, no older than sixteen, and always the kind-hearted feel coming from his malevolent face. Yet, no one could deny the dark presence that leaped from his body, a dark aura that seems to push and keep people at bay. Not many knew his story and only one knew the truth. But, no matter the case, they can also can not deny his overwhelming power to keep people close, to give hope and prosperous courage to every fight.
But, who exactly is this man, many would ask, and they would get this answer... " He is the darkness that seems to always give light. Through peril or tragedy, you will never find doom. If you die, you leave this world with pride. If you live, then honor be your day. This is who he is and nothing will ever change..." Of course, there are some who will tell you he is Myth Legend, the unofficial second in command of the Golden Gryphons.
As he bent over the ledge and watched as Ark was trying to escape the clutches of Ora, a figure stepped out from the shadows, materializing from the nothingness. This figure was robed in a black leather cloak, the hood pulled low over his face so that none could see it. He slouched over, unable to tell that he was bending his knees and has the stance of a tiger, ready to pounces at an open prey.
" So, Silence... you have returned?" said a voice of enlightenment, Myth turning to his new company, his long grey coat sweeping against the ground keeping concealed what laid underneath.
A sound so soft, a whisper into the graze of wind fell upon the open ears of Myth, speaking of what he found, but never a sound, unless wanted to be heard, could be known by anyone else.
" Thank you, Darkness... You may go now. I shall relay your report to everyone during the meeting..."
Seeming satisfied, he began to turn back, now struck with a quick and immediate thought.
" Wait, Shadow! I have one more thing for you... find Tarin. I just remembered that he has not returned for many days, and his presence is most necessary... go!" he ushered with urgency, seeming perplex by the unnerving thought.
Bowing to the order, the figure stepped into the darkness and disappeared. Light suddenly shined where the black was, and nothing was there except a solid wooden wall.

Silence is my call and fear is my enemy. I sit here with my blade of vengeance, waiting for my victim to come. I shall strike with the fierceness of a lion, but with cunning of a fox and the speed of a Tiger. This is my promise to you.
These were thoughts running through the mind of Tarin Youngfox, a boy with eyes of fiery orange, one with such confidence that even the most fearless of warriors would have doubts. His madness did not stop there though, for his hair was long and tangled and massed with days without wash, only a hint of the black shine, like obsidian, in the soft glare of the only light that touched through the overbearing darkness. Even his armor spoke of many things about him, made from bones of an unknown creature, many places chipped and broken, mended over time. And over him, a marvilious cloak of black fur, striped in red like a tiger, and its hood, currently not pulled over his head, was even more so spoken of the creature he had to kill, with its top skull still fixed in the fur, two long fangs jutting from the jaw, with smaller edged around them. In its eyes, two rubies that were dull even with the tinted glare.
He had been hunting for days out in the forest, his weapon of gleaming black ebony grasped in his hands for the creature that had attacked him some time ago. It did nothing to harm him, but the woman he had travelled with, Fearu, had been gravely injured by the beast. Leaving Ryick with her, he went out by himself to slay it, not letting it leave in peace. Finally, he had tracked it to its layer, a hollow opening in the base of a tree, much larger than his own home.
He brandished the axe heads, holding them with pride as he stared at the reflection in the black gem. Touching each one to his head, he looked out to the monsters stronghold.
Suddenly, a roar echoed from the hollow tree base, its force echoing through the forest. Stepping out of the tree was a creature that stood nearly eighteen feet tall, broad and muscular, its flesh torn and an ashen gray in the soft light. It had coarse hair running all over its body, with long pointed fingers and a long crooked nose. It wielded a small tree trunk in its hand and eyes with wild yellow looked about the area.
" Come out, you filth! " It shouted into the forest, its rumble shaking everything about. " I know your there... I smell your putrid stench, the sweat and blood that you bled to follow me thick in the air. Come out!"
Getting up from his place, the silent warrior came out of the moss and weeds and faced his opponent with his head hung low and disrespectfully turned his back on the creature. A cry of rage rang out as the monster lurched forward with its large tree, the intent to kill made clear in its attack. Yet, even though his doom was for certain, he made no attempt to move. As the "club" struck him, the beast only laugh in hysteria at this.
Removing the Club from its embedment into the ground, he looked happily for the splatter of gore upon the it. But, to his surprise, it was no where to be seen, only the imprint of the club. Quickly looking at the club itself though, he discovered a hole that was not there before, and inside, the glowing red of a predators eyes.

Coming out of the darkness some feet away, the figure had no clue of what was happening. Just knowing that the one he seeked would be close, he was not prepared for the sounds that he began to hear. First there was a roar, then screaming for someone, then another roar. In the end, he come to find a massive troll with a look of glee in his eye. To this moment, he believed the thing had just killed something, making it heartened with joy. But, for the figure, he knew death and dealt it with such skill second to none, and already could tell the creature was doom, all from the glowing ruby eyes of the tiger cloak inside the now shallow hole in the trunk.

Lunging out of the hole, Tarin struck the creature on both sides of the neck, its sound a sickening clack as gem met bone. The blood splashed out from the wound as he ripped out the axes, covering himself in the creature red life. No longer was he bare from his head, but covered by the hood of the tiger cloak, the eyes on top glowing, and his face now shrouded in darkness. It was rare for him to take this form, the killer of no remorse, but when he did, nothing lived. That was the case for this troll as he struck each side again and again and again, nothing to hold him back.

It was another ten minutes before he was done, the corpse falling backwards moments into the attack, landing with a thunderious thud. He had completely severed the head and ripped the body to pieces, making sure that all knew the price to pay for waking his wrath.
Pulling off the hood, he shook himself, like a creature who had just taken a bath, the blood flailing about. Taking a bottle from a pouch around his waist, he pulled the cork and poured the contents over himself. The fresh cold blue then ran without end over himself, cleaning him and his blades of all the vermillion liquid and grim, turning him into the corky little slacker that knew him as.

Finally finding a time to talk to him, the figure walked out in front of Tarin and bowed even lower to the ground.
" Hello Sir" spoke a sharp and whispered voice, a dark gloved hand reaching out to him.
" Phantom... What are you doing here?" Responded Tarin, the look of madness gone from his eyes and a softer color of orange replacing it.
Shaking its head, the figure just laughed. " I was sent to find you, Sir. Myth seemed worried about you, unlike his normality... But I must confess, you had been gone for many long days. I was not sure myself of your safety."
" Never mind that... Listen, I need you now to go find Fearu... she should be somewhere in the forest. I left Ryick with her. Take her back and send Ryick home. I will use that teleportation ring to get back (( even though it is about useless ))... I will see you in a while."
The figure then nodded, leaving him once more through the shadows.

Chapter 2

The castle Raigon, a once great kingdom in the Lumerian lands, now only a memory to those who pay respect. Now in ruins, only the castle itself now stands, with the towers and stone wall gates brocken down and scatter every where. Even the castle itself is covered in moss and vine, the scars of battle and the testement of time showing that nothing last. Nothing stays forever.
Yet, even though it seems to have been abondoned for many years, no one will enter this place of now evil. Tales of this place run far through the veins of mortal psyche, of ghost and demons who now run the halls of the great white knights. Creatures so horrible that there mere presence drains every bit of hope from your body and enslaves your soul. And just not that, but menacing creatures of death, known as Menaros, live in the courts and ruins of the castle, making life hell for any who even cross by the decriped old castle.

"So, this is Raigon. The kingdom of the Knights of Iord. A place I was once feared in my time of reign so long ago. I feel so... akward at this site. Almost like I am hurt in my heart of hearts by the destruction of such a foe. One that I deemed so worthy to be my match."
So slowly were these words spoken. The tinge of hate thick in the words. For Methodius, he had the deepest of loathing for this place of such power, a place he respect before his first death. To him, this was the greatest disrespect. Standing on the high ridge above the castle, he scowled at the mockery of his former foe.
For many who do not know the story of this character, he was once an evil warlord who ruled over the northern lands of Lumeria, thousands of years ago. At that time, he commanded armies of creatures that others could now, and trampled the land with his iron fist. Such was this man, that many, even the Knights of Iord doubted that they could win against such a glorious leader. That is why the story is so sad, to say, that no one knows how he was defeated or who defeated. Even though this would be called a blessing, many can not help but feel sorrow to learn that such a powerful man could end without a grand and honorable ending, that his death was caused by a hero of skill, that he did not die by giving up his blade. Such a sad tale.
But alas, he did die. Even without the knowledge of what happen, he did die. So, how could he be alive now, in a time much longer than he could have stayed? Well, any who looked at him could no the answer without asking. For once, he was known as a gorgious man that was envied by men and loved by women. Now, it was nothing more than scarred, burnt, and scaled, with his hair like darkness upon head, with two winding horns coming from beneath it. His eyes were of vermillion, his clear skin white with the veins deep blue, the scales black with red veins. His body was larger, armor of twisted grotesque, hellish black in all since. A mortal he was once, now a demon he be. That is the best to describe it.
With the high winds blowing across the mountains, his blood red cloak fluttered behind him, tugging on the round ruby pins that keep the cloak latched upon his shoulders. Peeking out just above the cloak, angled at his right shoulder, the handle of his devilish greatsword stood stock still upon his back. The gleeming eyes of blood red rubies locked in the sockets of the skull on the hilt, the grinning teeth of diamonds in its mouth, and a very discriptive, finely crafted iron finish. For such a weapon, there could be no equal to its dark elegance.
"Well, this is a site to be seen," spoke a voice of charming, simple with a sence of savvy that were not common among the masses, carrying a powerful feel for command.
The owner of the voice belonged to a strange looking man, his face obscurred by the low brim hat upon his head and a large brown scarf around his mouth. Strange dark orbs of black were held around his eyes, completely hiding anything to be seen, leaving much to be desired. With the collar of his brown coat up around his neck, long sleeves pulled further over the leather gloves, touching the ground with nothing to be seen of him. A tight black belt kept the long trench around his waist and a pair of short swords hung menacingly on both sides of him. Decorated in fine gems and exotic metals, the scabards spoke highly of the weapons themselves, siezed in their own multitude of colors and textures.
Turning his head to the odd man now standing next to him, he growled through clenched, sharp teeth. "This is no site of beauty, you fool. This is nothing but a tragic, endless humility to my name. For years, I fought these men, who gave me no ground to walk, no room to breath with my armies. They fought with courage that even I could not comprehend, for so futile it was. But now, look at this! They are gone! Destroyed by the men and women they fought so hard to protect! And only years after my own demise!"
Clenching his fist so hard that they shook, he could not hold back the want to slaughter the whole land for the insolence he now beheld.
Somewhat laughing at the scene of the large warrior, lost in his angry state, was comical to the peculiar companion. In his few years of travelling with this once known warlord, he had never found him douced in such emotion. Thinking that the his humanity was lost in the essence of the devil he had become, it was almost refreshing to see he was not at all, truly dead.
"Well, my friend. It seems you have finally surprised me. I thought you were just a cold blood leader who wanted to take over the world. Now, I can see that you are just as fragile as you were so long ago. Isn't that how you died? Wasn't from being develop in emotion of broken love and betrayal?"
He spoke as though he knew, there at the time of his death, with every word true to Methodius's mind.
"If you value your li... if you value your soul, you will be silent. I do not need to be reminded of my past..." breathing in a sigh, "Where are the others? Have they not made it up the mountain? We will be setting off soon and I do not want to be delayed by burdens if they can not keep up. "
On that last note, four more joined them at the ridges edge, four stange individuals, just as unique to the other pair.
"Is that how you see me then, Love? A burden on your back?" A voice of serene lust escaped from the lips of lucious red, a woman who seemed to glow with a desire that no man or woman could defy, a creature known in tales and legend of their evil and vile. A succubus.
Laying her hands upon the shoulders of Methodius, she stepped around him, her touch light. Comind to his front, she leaned upon his chest, feeling every masculine curve of his body as she did, the flow of crimson hair following in her flow. But this did not last long, as she was thrown from him, down to the ground behind him. He cared not for the wench, the lustful beast as she was, and never would he want her.
Turning to the rest of the four, he held a deep resentment towards their slow work and savage nature, taking time to make certain that nothing lived that cross their path. He had seen them do this many times, all of the trying to flay a scurrying mouse in a field of grass. It was so disgraceful to be given these as his "comrades" and he could feel it swell in his head.
Other than the Succubus, he was also acqainted with a large beast of mossy green fur, his snout long and filled with rows and rows of teeth, glossy white eyes staring from under two horns sticking straight from his head. He resembled a boar, though he had no hooves, but large human like hands. He also bore a long tail, curved in an arc to be just above his head, with three thin stingers splitting from the tail.
The next of the creatures was a small red impish creature, standing a little under three feet, skin of scales, and fire leaping from gapping holes in its back. His head was bare with the skin ripped away, leaving his scalp bald with bone. His eyes are large and wirling in black pools. Baring blistered and fragile hands, he seems to do nothing more than keep them wrapped in bloody cloth and rags, always whinning and talking in slow grumbles.
And as for the last, the strangest of the group, was a goopy little monster. Purple, it bubbled upon itself and moved slowly upon the ground. In its center, there were organs, not just human organs, monster organs, or any other creature to come to mind. They were just organs of all types. And for good reason for these, a creature just as it. Being a globius creature, it devours anything that it can eat, and then duplicate it. This is one of the most dangerious of the demonic beast and terrible of stalking beast.
But, none of them interest Methodius at all, being nothing but pawns to his use. Well, except for the one he was originally occampany by. The only person who he trusted the most. Why? Maybe no one really knows... but few could maybe find out.
" So, My lord Methodius, how shall we conduct our business at the Castle Raigon? Shall we charge in and decimate them with all out might? Or do you have a better method which will allow us to be more effecient? Though, I can make one suggestion if you do not mind. I like to wait till night, where my powers are more effective and I would not have to wear these redicolous clothing. So, what be your word?"
Looking back over the once pearl castle, Methodius grunted with much dissapprovement, but settled his thoughts on the plan of action.
"We shall do this in two teams," he began, staring at everyone with a dominable stare, "This will comprise of the first being me and Corendell. The second will comprise of the four demons, meaning you, Carmine, and the three pathetic existences. Now, Carmine, I want you all to attack the castles minions, the Menoras. Kill them anyways you wish and do as you please. I have no arguements. As for me and Corendell, we shall infultrate the castle, seeing that you wouldn't be that much use to us against real creatures of the dark. We shall begin at Dusk."

As the red skies burned in the setting sun, Methodius could not take his eyes away from its beauty. The small serenity of such peace was so far away from him, so far away that he could never reach its ends. Sadness touched his face and a simple shard of humanity clung to his heart. Such a sorrow to bare, giving up his life to the lords of Chaos, born again in this shell of human corpse. He cared not for it, desiring only what he had lost, being left with nothing more than that small tear that never wants to cry.
Touching his shoulder, Methodius moved his gaze to Corendell, his appearence different from the one that was once seen. No longer did he wear the strange clothing of the early day. Instead, he now wore the clothes of a noble, silk white shirt under a blanket black leather vest, pants of simple leather and clothe, and the same strange hat. Also, his pale white visage was clear to the eye, slender and elegant, commanding but passionate. Of course, these were given as part of the package of being a vampire. The ability to control and pursuade without a moments thought, and wielding a power that not even demons could dream. Pushing back his long brown hair, he seemed content on their mission and had a look of satisfaction at Methodius.
"Are you ready, my lord?"
Standing up, Methodius nodded. Walking up to the cliffs edge, he once again looked at Raigon, determination locked in his thoughts. Taking one more look at Corendell, he jumped out into the night.

Making their way down the rocky path to the castle, the four strange beast seemed to be arguing among themselves, saying crude things, and threating one another in absurd ways. But this was not unussual for them. They could never get along and always seem to be at each others throats, trying to gain dominence over the others. Of course, Carmine seemed to always have the upper hand of it all.
"Alright, now! We are almost there! Now, you know what we must do. As our lord has commanded, we must kill all of the Menoras. Leave not one alive. We have nothing to fear from them and we shall not fall! Let us make our lord proud!"
Snorting in laughter, the green boar spit a goop of purplish ooze at her feet. "You praise him as though he was a great demon. He did not send us here to fight with a purpose other than to die ourselves. Could you not see that gleam in his eyes as he told us. He believes us weak, not able to take on the Menoras. To die in agony! Do you not see?"
"Yeah! He wants us dead. Dead! Not alive! Not alive... He wants us to die!" speaking quickly and uncontrollably with a sound of a wimpering child, the small red imp began to go wild.
"Shut up! He did not send us to die? Why would he want that? He was ordered from the great demon lord to keep us around. He said we would be useful. Its not like he sent us here to get rid us, right?" questioned the defiant Carmine, her willingness to defend Methodius true and strong.
Suddenly, the blob changed and formed until it looked like a young male child, no older than the age of eleven. With sandy brown hair, crystalized blue, and a pair of shoddy clothes upon him, he was most likely a peasent child he had devoured some time on thier journey. Though, he looked young, he spoke with a voice of a man, many years older than that.
"Carmine... do we really need to answer that question. Of course the great lord sent us here to get rid of us. He knew Methodius would use us as nothing more than pawns in his games for power. Putting us out there in the fight with the Menoras is only a sham to remove us from his company. And, I have to be honest, he never needed us in the first place. Even I can see the power he wields is greater than we could even imagine. I suspect that the lord saw that to. I never seen him so impress by a human soul, nor make a deal with one. So, he must be special. That for me, makes it an honor to die for him, even if it is for nothing more than to die."
With that, they spoke no more, only continued the slow climb to the bottom.

Chapter 3

The council room was filled with the members of the Golden Gryphon, sitting around massive tables of fine alabaster and marbel. On every wall, there was a Symbol of the Golden Gryphon, shining in its awesome glory. Sitting on stands and placed up around the walls was also suits of armor and racks of weapons, placed there for emergency of any kind, be attack or other necessities. On a higher plateform on the far end of the room was the commanders table, long and covered in golden finery. And seated at this table were the most looked upon members in the Golden Gryphon.

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