ASTROLOGICAL TRIAD:

Moon in Leo
Sun in Cancer
Leo Rising


MAYAN DREAMSPELL:

Blue Lunar Knight


CHINESE YEAR ANIMAL:

Tiger


TOTEM/POWER ANIMALS:

The Millionth Monkey
Adamantine Crystal Dragon
Displacer Beast (Panther)
Eagle/Falcon/Raptor
Lamb/Ram/Goat
Golden Lion
Fuzzy Bunny
"Adam" Ant


ENNEAGRAM:

9(5)


TAROT:

0--Fool/Magician
1--Emperor

"Alias"--
ARENA


Grand Admiral "Shizlan"
of the Elysian Fleet of FriendShips--
THE ALLIED CIRCLES OF ELYSIUM (ACE)

Rev. Luke A Shootingstar-Walker,
of the EarthLight Council of Emissaries,
Flameholder of the Circles of Light Alliance,
Prime Minister of the Church of WE, the people---
GCD, ECE, CLA, WE, GOD, ELP, ACE, FIC, PSA, US

"Captain ServAces"--
RENNAISSANCE FAIRES

Special "Cock Sock" Sauce, or
"I can't remember anymore"--
METAPOEIZION (Metapoeisis)

"Lorrin of Arr" [(Lorrin Navarre),
commonly known as "Lukas MacPhearson"]--
THE SOCIETY FOR CREATIVE ANACHRONISM (SCA)

LuKas "Bacchus"--
THEE OMEGA KREWS

"Captain Michelobius"--
PIRATES OF THE RING OF FIRE

"Arjuna"--
CIRCLE O' FE

Swami Deva "Anadi" Beyondtheidea--
OSHO/RAINBOW FAMILY TRIBES
OF THE LIVING LIGHT

Luke "Neo" SackStaller--
EUGENE LEAGUE OF FOOTBAG

Mr. G--
THE PIRATES OF SALVATION

"LuKaya"--
THEE GOBLINS OF BABYLON

"Lorrin Stephen Darius" (Magnus)--
SHADOWSCAPES

visit: www.geocities.com/shizlan
to view the deluxe version
of this introduction

Who'ShizLAN?

Shizlan is a speck of stardust, a teardrop floating in space, a point of light symbiotically shared by three meta-level guardians. This teardrop is the cusp that bridges their three dimensions into form.

Shizlan is not one entity.


One light stream leads from Shizlan to a realm controlled by dark imperialism. Here technologies unhealthy for living cells have been romanticized into society.
In the timeline of this realm, the planet Earth was scorched by a massive cataclysm when humanity overthrew the governing malevolent alien race in the First Galactic War of 2151 ad.
As human pioneers explored new worlds capable of supporting the human lifeform, animal consciousness on Earth was accelerated into quantum awareness without their knowledge.
With help from off planet forces, tribal elders and monarchs within the emerging society of animals established an alliance structure of government and eradicated the remaining humans. Upon their return, the human explorers discovered painfully that the planet was no longer under their control.

In this arena is Prince Shizae, the keeper of feline mysteries. Within the form of a Great Panther, he is one of three meta-level guardians linked by a thread of light to the mirrored teardrop that is Shizlan.

-- Luke A ShootingStar
2002 (10 BR)

visit: www.geocities.com/shizlan
to view the deluxe version
of this introduction

[Material Presented © Luke A ShootingStar (circa 1995-97)]

KI SHUNIN DO



Daibun Shukyo
(Essential Insights)


There will be no peace in the outside world if there is no peace within yourself.
-- Stephen Dompke

The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows-a wall against the wind. This is the willow’s purpose.
-- Frank Herbert

The Path of Peace is exceedingly vast, reflecting the grand design of the hidden and manifest worlds. A Warrior is a living shrine of the divine, one who serves that grand purpose.

-- Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969)

The ocean of God’s abundance flows through me. I am His child. I am a channel through which all divine creative power flows. Bless me, Father, that above all things I seek Thee first, as befits Thy true child.
-- Paramahansa Yogananda

We should make an effort to examine our own experience, in order to see what it contains that is of value in helping ourselves and others to uplift their existence.

-- Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche
Jutsu is “arts” in Japanese and Do is “Way”. If it does not change your reality view , then it is not a Way.

-- Anadi Shootingstar

“To really help people, you first need to understand them-but you can’t understand someone else until you can understand yourself. Know yourself; prepare yourself; develop the clarity, the courage, and the sensitivity to exert the right leverage, in the right place, at the right time, then act.”
-- Dan Millman

Without the awareness of death everything is ordinary, trivial.
-- Carlos Casteneda

Love is the Warrior’s sword, wherever it cuts, it gives life, not death.
-- Dan Millman

Do not hurt when holding is enough,
do not wound when hurting is enough.
Do not maim when wounding is enough,
and kill not when maiming is enough;
the greatest warrior is one who does not need to kill.

-- Stephen R. Donaldson

“It’s not the Way to the Peaceful Warrior; it’s the Way of the Peaceful Warrior; and the journey itself creates the Warrior.”
-- Dan Millman


----=====+++***********+++=====----

[Material Presented © Luke A ShootingStar (circa 1995-97)]

Once again, under the silvery moons of the eclipse she senses the night. The cool air of the mountain streambed brings her relief and she leans against a mossy boulder to catch her breath. All creatures normally buzzing and chirping have gone quiet, the Dark Forest is still with anticipation.


Hot on the trail of the hunter, she is never farther behind than the nearest tree. Although honed are her senses from intense training they are not as acute as those of the black wolf. She scans the forest for a sign that through this passage their quarry had been before them.


They hunt a man guilty of crimes against the Kardian people. The Galatian Chief DarkStorm was marked for justice by the Kardian Guilds for theft of the royal crops.




She reaches the crest of the rise and stops to check for signs of life. Below her in the spongy turf she finds the tracks of men but no sign that the wolf has passed this way. From past missions she knows that that can only mean one thing, the prey has been found.




Most Virago manage to escape attention by remaining invisible to the public eye. However, within the Kardian Guild of the Virago are many of the most influential, and beautiful of Kardian women. They come from noble families and wealthy merchant classes. Many of them are well known as public figures in certain circles. Therefore, the strongest asset of the Virago is to keep their foes guessing as to who they are...and to what they can do. She reveals little of her secrets and frequently escapes the civilized ways of Kardia to seek solace in the wild.



There before her in the clearing, she sees a small lodge, brightly lit, with heated voices coming from within. Like a predator, she moves forward and pulls out her primary weapon, edging closer to the conversation. The light of one of the four moons shines a reflection off the sharp edge of the chakram onto her delicate features and she quickly turns it away, hiding it from the light.




Suddenly the door to the structure springs open, illuminating the earth before it, and two men emerge--one clad all in black with shoulder length hair as dark as the raven, the other is led behind with bonds of hemp securing his wrists. The man behind bows his head low and chuckles.

"I have dreamt of this moment for many cycles, Jefe. Did you really think it would be so easy to thwart me? You may wish to rethink your strategies...looks to me like you are outnumbered."



A loud clambering ruckus starts up on all sides beyond the clearing and out from the ring of trees appears a score of men armed for combat. They shout praise to the glory of their tribe and surge forward as one body, menacing with weapons in hand.



Without hesitation, the Virago Majikan assesses the scene and takes action to even the odds. She coils her arm and trains her eye on Chief DarkStorm's temple. Then she quickly whips her arm out at lightning speed. Before the cold metal of the chakram's deadly disc has even left her grasp, her long sword is out of its sheath. She springs forth, catlike, cutting through the line of warriors, but...just then, the lodge erupts in flames. With relief, she looks to the sky and sees that it is filled with dragon wings...and with fire.



"Last Strike of the Virago" by Shizlan 2004
[Timeline continues in: The Jefé's Journey]

[Timeline continued from: Last Strike of the Virago]

The Story of Jefé Shizlan

The twin suns of Aureus were just setting on opposite horizons as the weary guard took up his post. The clammering ruckus of the nearby tavern had subsided to dull mutterings. With nothing to keep his attention besides the half-empty wine skin, he could not keep his eyes from growing heavy. Mangrols were not employed for their competence, attention span, and intelligence level, but rather for their brute strength, cruelty, and intimidating appearance. This one in particular resembled a human-sized grey dog that stood on its hind legs but lacked a tail. It also lacked one eye and had lost the right side of its face from battle in the gladiator ring--but fortuitously gained numerous scars from its earlier days as a young pup.

The shadows began to lengthen and blend together. Darkness nearly overtook it completely—more so than it ever could have known. But, suddenly, the long howl of a wolf woke him from his drunken stupor. It sounded only 20 feet off. The guard sprang up immediately with its spear clutched tightly in front of it. After a few moments, blurry eyes came into focus upon a solitary wraith-like figure dressed completely in black that strode fearlessly toward him.

"STOP," barked the disfigured creature, in a half growl, half shout, waving the crude torch that partially illuminating its filthy uniform and long claws.

Shizlan, Jefé of Kardia City, indeed stopped dead in his tracks but not to the desired effect of the guarding creature. Using the Kyrilian amulet, a Kardian treasure which releases a fine powder that causes mild disorientation to those not immune to its magic, the Jefé knew that he had disappeared from view.

Better to not take any more chances in this unfamiliar place, he figured. Once he was through the gates, Shizlan knew that with the amulet he could slip unnoticed through the dark city. To be stopped and questioned at this point of his journey could be detrimental. It was vital he entered the city undetected so as not to alert whatever system of law that operated here.

Clutching the Amulet of Kiryll in a specific way, he silently rolled under the gate, then quickly arose on all fours, having changed to the form of a black wolf to continue his mission: the search for a Guardian of the King, the Strijder of the Vakt, missing in action for many weeks.

The creature rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, grunted to itself, and muttered disbelief under drunken breath, as it staggered back against the slimy wall, then sagged down to its post on the sodden earth.

With the amulet and his other baggage concealed amongst thick fur, Shizlan had taken to his paws, black against the black night, and padded silently through the stronghold of the Bad Lands.

He stopped suddenly and sniffed the air. A Kardian had been here, the scent had long faded but not completely.

Shizlan marveled to himself then in reverie. Through all the variances within the Kardians, all the bloods and the breads, the act of living in Kardia enriched them all with that smell, a sun-baked sea breeze smell, mixed with the leafy city orchard scent. The Jefé would have put his last gold on this Kardian being the Vakt Strijder--not simply because he was one Kardian unaccounted for.

He then thought of his home…

Kardia was quiet the night he climbed into the small canoe, which would be his stead for the first part of this seek-and-recover mission. Procured from the Galatians in an earlier raid, it was a reliable vessel, of hollowed wood and sleek oils. It had been his lifesaver, his cradle, his home on many a Guilds mission. And it had been strangely comforting for him to be setting off in it again. Paddling swiftly and smoothly, he glanced back to look at the golden shores of Kardia, smiled to himself and thought of the going-away soiree held secretly earlier that evening. Only his closest friends and advisors were invited--only those who could be trusted. Of those invited, many were away on missions, and so it was that only the few of the few were present to seal his departure with their blessings, sweet kisses and warm embrace.

"Fare well, Shiz."
"Hurry Back." The voices echoed in his mind in sync with each splash of the light paddle.

"Yes" He thought, "I plan to."

The Guilds torches had burned fiercely that night, as he turned his back and set his attention to the horizon. Warm memories of those torches filled his heart now as he stood on all fours in this, the darkest of places, the Bad Lands of Aureus in search of the Strijder of the Vakt Guardians.

The Jefé slipped through the dirty alleys with this in mind. He quietly padded through the dirt with a quiet confidence, bordering on arrogance, that he would pass unscathed. He sat back for a long moment on his haunches, a dangerous beast in the dark recesses, while he sniff the breeze and listened. With slop and mud under him, and blackened, decaying timber structures all around, the sound of a busy tavern rose to greet him across the way.

In the darkness he allowed his man form to return, adjusted his simple travel wear, and added from his baggage some items of disguise. He then strode across the way to the tavern. "Purely for the purpose of the mission." He reminded himself with a chuckle and a wry grin. He was, of course, hoping for a warm cup of mead.

'Scalpay Inn' read the sign out front.

The Jefé entered through the rough door onto the boarded-out floor which creaked, even under his nimble form. He considered to himself that this could have been one of those occasions where the entire room stopped to view the stranger intruding on their turf. He rolled his eyes a little at his fanciful notions when he saw that everyone in the tavern were far more dark and strange than he--and none seemed to be bothered by his arrival. None, that is, except for a dark knot in the corner.

He crossed to the dirty bar and, with his deepest gravel voice, ordered a tall warmed mead. He wasn’t hopeful of its quality, as he considered himself a connoisseur, but was pleasantly surprised by its strong thick taste. He drank half of the draft and looked around the room with an absent-minded expression.

The group of three in the far corner were cloaked in rough dark fabric. The Jefé could tell the fabric concealed strong, muscular men. Their hair was matted and hung in clumps. They eyed the room suspiciously and spoke in low tones that, despite his refined hearing, Shizlan could barely make out. One of the men, that seemed to be the authority of the other two, stared at him directly. The Jefé remained alert whilst attempting to look indifferent. He had a feeling, judging by their behavior, that these men knew he was Kardian and intuition told him that they knew of the Vakt Strijder. Something in their demeanor made them seem as foreign to this place as he did.

Without a word, two of the men stood, and left the Inn, leaving the one Shizlan imagined to be in charge. With a growl, the stranger ordered another drink, "A rum!" The Jefé raised an eyebrow, and unusual request he thought, but nevertheless, a drink stocked in plenty by the squat barkeep.

He heard the bells long before the music cranked up--a low, jingly-jangling sound from deep within the belly of the Inn. Smiling, he took a long pull off his mead and, very soon after, three girls strode with graceful steps to a clearing on the dirty Scalpay Inn floor. He knew the sound to be dancers bells and the sweet tinkling ignited his interest. They assumed their positions, human women looking extra beautiful against the black and filthy surroundings. These young ladies were delicate looking, and, with their bells and bodily decorations, an unknowing person may be forgiven for thinking their position as diminuitive. But the Kardian Jefé was experienced. He knew better and kept a closer watch on the belongings he had with him. These women were descendants of the Dorsai Clan, outlaws each of them, they traveling the darkest depths of the planet living off their wits and what could be stolen by their women wiles by these performances. Tales of the "Dancing Dorsai" were still enjoyed around their clan’s campfires, the Jefé had heard. Nevertheless, he always enjoyed a good show.

The music began, a slow humming flute accompanied by soft rhythmic drumming. The dancers spiraled their arms upwards above their heads with rippling fingers. One by one, they began to stamp in a syncopated rhythm. The tempo of the music perked and the performance space became an undulating sea of hips, transparent fabric, and provocative silhouettes. The drummer worked his instrument harder, driving the dancers on in their weaving patterns across the wooden floor. They dipped in and out of the crowd, and joined in the center for a crescendo in unison--a climax of curving, arching arms and sweeping legs. Drunkards leered at the dancers reaching out to manhandle them as they came close. The Jefé thought to himself, "Such a beautiful performance--a pleasant surprise in such a dark place."

The Jefé never discovered who started the skirmish that followed.

The first thing he saw was the dancers scattering, ejected from their closing positions by the hard landing of a short, hairy beast-like man in the middle of them. Landing on top of him was another man-beast—taller, and bonier than the other, snarling crooked teeth being the most apparent part of his gray appearance. The two struggled to stand, attempting to gain an upper position on each other with arms flying, hands grasping, and knuckles pounding the other’s flesh. Cries raised around them as they rolled sideways, sending tankards flying. They tumbled away from a table and landed on the lap of the dark cloaked stranger in the back corner. The commotion opened his cloak and many concealed items scattered across the floor. Shizlan noticed the man’s dirty blonde hair beneath the heavy cloak and one shiny article in particular that rolled curiously across the tavern and came to a rest at the Jefé's feet.
There was no time to ponder who that face reminded him of.

"FOOLS!" Bellowed the blond-haired stranger. The room silenced and the feuding pair stopped their squabbling. The look in their faces suggested they decided that staying alive was more important than their disagreement.

Shizlan eloquently bent down to pick up the small metal disc, knowing in his heart what it was before he touched it. He fingered it lightly with a stern face.

"Vakt of Kardia" was etched on the arch along the top,
"Guard Strijder" in a bow along the bottom half of the ring.
A golden knot with a rose was fixed into the center.

This man had the inauguration badge of the Strijder in his possession. This was the focus of the Jefé's mission. The man was out of the Inn door in seconds but Jefé Shizlan was not going to let him escape.

"Young man," cautioned a voice from the Inn crowd, "you don't want to be messing with them Free Jacks. Nasty pirates, all of them... you stay away from them, and from Galley Bank if you value your skin and the air you breathe." She shrieked the last of her words as the distance between them increased.

The Jefé chased out into the darkness hot on the trial of the 'Free Jack'. This was the first positive lead on the fate of the Strijder and he wasn't going to let it go. One hand on his own chakram, he sped into the night seeing the stranger a short distance ahead.

The stranger stopped fleeing and turned. The Jefé stopped abruptly. Both men faced each other. The stranger drew his sword.

The Jefé's chakram had already left his hand and the lethal silver spiral shot closely past the strangers shoulder, precisely as the Jefé had intended it. A Kardian chakram was designed to return to its thrower, but the Jefé intended to employ a lesser known Virago style throw designed to closely miss the opponent then return to strike in their back. More chance of immobilizing without killing the opponent this way.

To his surprise the stranger didn’t even flinch at the flight of the chakram, although he had seen it leave the Jefé's hands. He watched it closely miss him, then, with impeccable timing, he bent down as it spiraled towards his back, allowing it to return to the Jefé's grasp blood free.

Shizlan was amazed. "This man knows the combat style of the chakram." He thought. "He is familiar with the ways of the Vakt AND the Virago! It is Kardian strength I see in his eyes as he faces me now...and that smell, the orchard, the sun, and the sea." The Jefé pondered these things for a split second before raising his own sword in defense against the attack which had now commenced.

Swords flew at a tremendous pace. The sound of clashing metal and exerted energy filled the dark street. The Jefé, quick on his feet, found the stranger a formidable opponent and tested his theory that this was, or had once been, a man of Kardia, by throwing at him some classic combinations with the multiple weapons about his person. The stranger countered each and every single one while retaliating with his own combinations. When both men stood breathlessly, swords poised for more, the Jefé spoke. "Where is the Strijder? Who are you?"

The stranger smiled. "Your Vakt was very useful to me in my escape from Mistryl Island, such a shame I cannot afford him the same freedom."

Mistryl Island registered like alarm bells in the Jefé's head. But that was the place where the Vakt Guard Strijder have been delivering Dark Storm of the Galatians when he disappeared on route. The Strijder apparently never arrived there--and this man did not have the smell of a Galatian. This man seemed to know differently--an interesting revelation indeed.

At that exact moment a commotion came from the skies. The swooping sound of huge wings and the piercing cry of an enourmous bird. The Jefé chanced a look up to see a large brown tarn descending on them. Faster than he could evade, it struck him on the cheek with a talon and he felt warm blood flow. The stranger hoisted himself up onto the animals back and made for the skies. "Moin, old friend." He chided with a nod as they ascended.

The Jefé heard the stranger cry to the beast as they headed west towards the coast, becoming smaller and smaller til they vanished from his sight.

"Galley Bank...hmm." Thought Shizlan, and, after arranging his weapons, he took pursuit, at great speed, on human feet.


--==={:=========----------- *

"Hail! You there, wait up!" said a voice, as Shizlan stepped onto the sands of Galley Bank. He turned to see a slight female form clad in a soft faded blue tarten covered by a dark hood. It was one of the dancers from Scalpay Inn earlier that evening. The Jefé admired her form as she approached him and noted she was only slightly out of breath. She reached up to touch the cut on his cheek. He stepped back and reached for his whip. As lovely as she was, he had no time for daliances while the well being of the Strijder was in question.

She mistook this impatience for fear. "It’s okay," she stated, with a mild laugh. "You should have no fear of me dark stranger, I desire none of your belongings."

"Then…" replied Shizlan calmly, "you need have no fear of the shiny weapons which lie beneath my cloak, for I know you have seen them there. You followed me here from the Inn. Why?”

"Because I thought you might need me." The dancer replied quickly. "I am Nitecap, I have seen the Kardian which you seek..."

The Jefé was on her in a second and his shape shifted slightly. The animal side of him showed through in sudden, sharp ways. His strong hands closed firmly around her wrists, tight enough to restrain but not enough to cause pain. "Tell me what you know – NOW." She could just feel an insinuation of what his sharp claws could do to soft flesh. She then realized that the rumours were true. The weapons he revealed were not what made him deadly and formidable--it was his primal edge. It was said, in some circles, that he could change his form into that of any animal that prowled, slithered or soared under the cover of night.

Her resolve faltered just a bit with that realization and she felt a brief touch of fear, but she recovered quickly. "I..I am of the Dorsai Clan." Nitecap's tale began haltingly. "I lived on the outskirts of Kardia under the leadership of Chieftain Cuculain before I left to follow this gypsy life. I knew your Strijder, to see him in this dark place was an unwelcome shock, a reminder of a home I left behind, and tried to forget. But seeing you here, knowing you have come to seek him, I cannot hide from what I have seen any longer. The FreeJack Pirates are a cruel and filthy lot and they are multiplying quickly."

Nitecap lowered her head and kicked at the sands of Galley bank.

The Jefé took her chin in his hand and raised her face till their eyes met. He looked into her deep dark eyes, brown locks feathered around them. "Just tell me what you know of my Vakt, mo charaid."

"He passed by our camp weeks ago, and the Free Jacks followed close behind. He didn't say much, didn't get the chance, said he had to get home, had to tell the King of the new enemy that was coming. I tried to cover his tracks, tried to deceive the Free Jacks but they caught him. Your Strijder is a brave man.

I've seen the Free Jacks in action a few times since they banded together from the most fearsome drifting outlaws. To take on four of them.... but alas they overpowered him. I followed them here. He was alive when I last caught sight of him between the cliffs, unconcious but alive."

Knowing that Aureans are immortal after years of enjoying the benefits of the Aion plant, the Jefé looked at her quizically wondering what would make her say this. Reading this confusion upon his face Nitecap answered, "If anyone can kill an Aurean, it is a Free Jack. It has even been said that they dabble in the technologies of the ancients."

"Show me where you lost them," asked the Jefé, "take me there".

The cliffs loomed over head casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. It was the second eclipse the Jefé had witnessed on this journey, and it emphasised to him all the more keenly...the duration of his absence from home. Aldebaran and Renideo, the two suns, were blocked this day from providing their consistant light and warmth, now, when it was needed greatly at this time in the Jefé's life. But light can be found in many places. He looked to Nitecap.

Nitecap led him along the muddy bank passed mossy cliff sides. The sound of crying gulls filled the air. They were near the sea. They came to a small cleft in the rock face and stopped. "They went in there" Nitecap pointed into the gloom.

"Very well." Answered the Jefé briskly, "Off you go, on your way, I will procede from here...
alone." His tone was final and resolute.

Nitecap just smiled and danced off into the opening ahead of him. "Come on in." She called to him from the darkness. Shizlan rolled his eyes then checked his weapons, scanned the surroundings, and followed her in.

They crept along the corridor of rock for about half a mile. In places it spiralled upwards, but most of the time it was an ominous journey down under the ground. The floor was dusty, and slow burning torches lit the way, spaced intermittantly along the rock walls. All the time the crashing sound of the ocean became louder and louder. This tunnel was leading towards the coast. The Jefé led the way onward then suddenly he stopped dead, as he heard human voices.

"Avaste, you salty sea dogs! This be your Kapt'n--ordering you to pack up. Collect the booty, lets get this landlubber back home to his King if thats the way he wants it...though, I don't remember him requesting a sea escort. Me thinks nor had he special delivery by Rum barrel in mind. Arr!...that so the case bein'."

A chorus of rowdy "aarrrrrrrs," grunts, and guffaws ensued.

The Jefé peeked around the corner and spied a large underground landing dock. Milling around it were 20 or more of the most sea weathered creatures he'd ever seen. Men and women, muscular and strong, each busying about a task like a small but well organized army. Central to them all was a massive dark ship that towered into the darkness in the spaceous cavern. The black sails were taut and the vessel swayed slowly with the motion of the waters. Below the ship, standing on the dock, was a hooded stranger. The 'Captain' so it seemed, and below the Captain, now struggling to his feet, and failing, was the Vakt guard Strijder.

"YOU!...you...scoundrel!" came a voice from the bedraggled heap of rags and blood which was the fallen Vakt guard. "You will never get away with an assault on Kardia, the Guilds will be strong even if I can't return in time to warn them."

"Ohhhh--I'm so frightened. You've got me shaking in mi' boots." Growled the dark hooded stranger, the Captain of the Free Jacks. "You WILL get home, but you will be OUR warning message. Now, All aboard!...and set sail for the Gates of Kardia. Get this low life locked up! If he even lives much longer, I DON'T want to see him moving."

To the Jefé's horror the Strijder was pummeled and kicked brutally then bundled into a barrel and lifted aboard the great black ship by 4 burly pirates. The Captain followed and the plank was raised. The Jefé watched as the ship began to leave port. He did not have much time to formulate a plan, but acted fast and decisively regardless.

He quickly revealed a concealed whistle, another of his secret tools, and blew into it--the subsonic sound produced was inaudible to human ears. Then he abruptly set out across the sand of the cavern in swift and covert pursuit, eager to get on the ship unseen before it departed. He would then have to still get to the Strijder before he suffocated.

He understood with horror how they planned to kill an Aurean--at the bottom of the deep sea.

Following behind him in his path, soon gathered a dark shadow of many fluttering bodies. He stopped only long enough to catch and tie a message to one of the many small leathery bodies. After he cast it aloft in the direction of Kardia City, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm coming too..." said Nitecap.

Together they slipped into the icey waters and made for the side of the ship.

"A lift home," thought the Jefé, "how convenient."


-- Iroq & Shizlan 2004 [revised 2006]

[Timeline continues in: A New Enemy]

[Timeline continued from: The Jefé's Journey]

Reprinted from the webpage:
www.bloodclans.com/kardians...w%20enemy

A New Enemy

As the distant cries of the city party faded the lone Vakt Guard stooped slightly to pick a flower from one of the discarded bouquets. His keen ears listened intently to the hollering of the dwindling crowds. the last of the revelers making their ways west and east, leaving the neutral zone of the city of Kardia. He twirled the petals in his rough warrior fingers, enjoying their coolness on his palm as he cleared his mind, aiming to filter the dying chatter, restless leaves and relentless ocean from another sound. The sound of something else, something that didn't belong, something that had been growing closer all evening.

At the Arx meeting prior to tonight's events, the King had been distant. Not in terms of duty - for that was not his way but there had been no mistaking the depths of the darkness in his eyes. Not for one who had watched him as closely as the Vakt Guard. The King had returned after a two eclipse absence saying little of his travels, but with new training for all, immediate and intense, suggesting that following him was a new danger, a new threat to the Shields. More time was spent at the oceans and waterways, perfecting the skills necessary to defend an attack amongst the tides. The Guards had been encouraged to move away from the established training and perfected techniques. Encouraged to develop and flourish the elaborate and undocumented Chakram throws which were normally restricted to recreation due to their unpredictability.

It was these thoughts that the Vakt Guard attempted to clear from his mind and yet hold within his instinct as he listened. He shifted a little on the decking making only the slightest of sounds and was glad of the moons of Aureus to be his light.

He suddenly became aware of a sound in the ocean, or rather the sound of the ocean differing, losing its easy pattern and becoming more regimented, speeded. More like... the rhythmic splashing of oars. The clouds seemed to come from nowhere and swallow the sky. He heard the other Guards stationed up and down the coast stir, and the sound of heavy gates moving deep within the city. Help was on its way but to aid against what the Vakt Guard was not yet sure. He crushed the petals in his fingers angrily and used the juices to take a firm hold on his weapon. A rustling by his feet caught his attention and he bent, without lowering his eyes to pick up the paper that lay there.

"WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE - For crimes against the Vakt, The City of Kardia and King Jalen Blade"

The Guard looked at the face on the poster. He shook his head, the look in the eye of his King suddenly falling into place along with the necessity for new training and skills. The city was alive with marching, pounding, the clash of metal and the slapping of leather. But the rhythm from the ocean had stopped. He crushed the paper as he had the petals.

The Vakt Guard looked up to see a rope around the top slat of the decking and climbing over the planks the very face he had just crushed on the paper. Piercing eyes of blue and a vibrant mass of golden hair in a shaggy style not so different to a grown out version of his own Vakt style. The face smiled menacingly.

"RunningBare" he growled. He reached for his sword, looked into the eyes of this old friend and new enemy... and charged.


Story by Iroquois
Edited by Shizlan

Reprinted from the webpage:
www.bloodclans.com/kardians...w%20enemy

[Timeline continued in: All Alone...]

[Timeline continued from: A New Enemy]

Reprinted from the webpage:
www.bloodclans.com/kardians/incursor.htm

All Alone (on a Barnacle Encrusted Reef)


Far, far away from known civilization, he wakes abruptly to the elements ravaging him, his body is wedged in a clump of jagged rocks and half submerged in frigid sea water. The storm that welcomes him back to consciousness is fierce and blinding.

Surviving after such a brush with death, though, makes the elements seem less formidable, for a larger, greater concern is in the front of his mind. The black ship returned to the mists many days ago--its burning image forever seared into his mind.

Tattered rags cover the shaking muscles that strain to pull his weight up the rocks. He manages to free his body from the nook which saved his life but consequently slips away under the murky sea. He manages to keep to the surface but turbulent waves slam him roughly, each time forcing more salt water through his parched throat and flared nostrils.



With strength to tackle impossible odds…




The Code rings through him as a litany against fear and he gathers strength in it while he reviews the mission given to him by the King and the Incursor Legatus: to reveal the fate of the leader of the Guilds. The realization that it may not be in the cards that he survive either occurs to him. Had he known that before he agreed… would he still have agreed?

Of course I would have, he reminds himself without a doubt.



With strength to tackle impossible odds…to boldly go where others fear…

To brave death with a grimace and fearless embrace—for the Glory of Kardia.



Somehow his fingers grasp solid ground and with only will power left, he pulls himself back up to safety in the rocks. He manages to get his legs under him and rests there a while appreciating sanctuary. I must live long enough to deliver this news to the King.

From Venida Bay, his journey aboard the Guilds navy vessel, Givent Horizon, was long in order to reach Mistryl Island, the last of the Jefe’s known whereabouts. Upon his arrival, he proceeded directly to the remote Virago outpost there and met with the Magistral, herself on a mission as well. She gathered items crucial to his operation from an insider in the syndicate of sea smugglers.


He received from her a nautical map of the ocean around the islands, and a complete disguise accompanied by the manual, “How to Talk Like a Pirate.” Of the many things she gave to him, though, the most important was a riddle that read:



When the waiting is filled

at the edge of the world,

the darkening of the light

shall reveal the vessel to thee.



She was still visible the next day on the distant shoreline when he glanced back just once. The map led him westward to a secluded cove on a small island far past the furthest of Kardia’s sea borders. There, with nowhere left to go and nothing else to go on, he waited at the ting’s edge...all alone on a barnacle encrusted reef.

The twin suns grew closer all the second day as the riddle foretold would occur. At the ebbing of the tide they inevitably melted together like two golden coins behind the largest moon, Iso. All the world was then shadowed completely.

When next the tide flowed in, the sky was obscured by clouds. Fierce winds produced a screeching gale with stinging rain that came at him horizontally. Light spray from waves blasting on the shore cascaded around him. From out of nowhere, a fog crept up the shore that made the thunder seem to roll forever.

The gale died to an eerie stillness that isolated the reef within misty surrealism-- and everything became like a dream. After several long moments, there was a tremendous boom and the sky was torn by a flash of lightning. In that brief instant, he saw the silhouette of a giant ship out a ways on the water. It was of an alien design not known to him.

The fog rolled back to the ting’s edge and there was a row boat with a bent, crusty old sea dog in it, peering over the glassy surface. Behind the rowboat was the behemoth black ship, with a mast as tall as the Arx, slowly emerging from the clouds that thinned steadily further. Many figures were onboard, barely humanoid, that shambled erratically across the deck.

“Wha’ der you do, tharr? Heh?" The skeleton figure in the small boat peered at him with its one good eye.

“I’m Scarl, to join the crew—uh…me thinks.” Taylanin stated roughly.

The old wind bag continued as though it hadn’t heard him. “Well, arrr ya wit’ us er not? Hmm?”

“Ai—‘tis what I’m here for,” he stated with more resolve.

“Well, get on wit’ ya. We haven’t got all day—“ It craned its neck to the sky. “err…night.”

The Krigor approached the small boat and wondered to himself if it would hold his abnormally large weight. When he touched the rim however, he found that it was quite stable. He boarded and faced away from the ferryman to check the position of his grand battleaxe, which he earlier slipped between his belt and the center of his back.

The trip to the larger ship was quick--within moments he was on the slippery deck of the black ship. There was a stench of dirty and salted human bodies from the shadows which were thick and close around him.

A gravelly voice whispered to him from the dark at his left shoulder, “Quiet—stick close to Lookin', watch, and you’ll get along. We caught ourselves a big one, with live bate!” The mob ringed a lone man leaning over a crumpled body that spilled out from a broken barrel. “Well, ‘tis not alive anymore.”

The lone figure stood abruptly, turned, and faced the mob with fiery eyes and twin scimitars bared defiantly. A shiny metal disk hung at his waist, a chakram, the type worn only by Guilds warriors. Taylanin’s mouth gaped when he saw that it was the Jefe of Kardia.


The destroyer roared and started for the line of dark figures. In the absence of bright light, he did not know which shadow to take first so he grabbed two and squeezed ‘til they croaked and wheezed. He slammed them together hard, they cackled maniacally, and dropped together in a pile.

He grabbed another shape with his powerful hands and threw it into the others. The swarming mass exploded. Shrieking men and women ran around frantically while the ultimate destroyer mangled what flesh he could get his hands on—he parried swords with his gauntlets of steel and threw grown men over his head into the dark sea and into clots of the others in the thick darkness.

The tide turned against him after he lost the edge of surprise, wearing him down by shear force of numbers. They were directed by a masked man whose voice barked above all the others. The Krigor reached behind his back and pulled out his battleaxe. He grimaced to the crowd inviting them to their deaths.

Shizlan was next to him then, with deadly twinkling blades clearing a path across the bloodied deck. They cut into the bodies crowding the mid ship section and together they increased the death toll dramatically. Jefe stopped suddenly in his bloodletting and tipped over a barrel at the starboard cannon--explosives covered the mid ship section. Then he turned with a sneer, the tip of one elegant blade lowered and the other on guard. He pointed at the brigand leader and started in a bee line toward the mysterious man who challenged him with taunts and gestures.


"Arrrghes! Crawled out of the bung hole have ye’, bilge rat? Like your friend, you shall die and your city’ll be in flames before ye’ can say ‘shiver mi timbers!’"

The Guilds leader cleaved through the horde toward the main gangway, a dance of graceful slices, parries and thrusts. When he reached the brigand leader a brawl ring opened in the crowd. The two put away their weapons and squared off in a bizarre duel of the high seas, their feet danced in rhythm between and amongst the others’ in effort to cause the opponent to lose balance. But the deck was slick, stained with blood a deep crimson, and neither could gain foothold--they slipped, they tumbled, and were buried in a pile of salty bodies. The last view Taylanin had of the Jefe was of the two forms locked in mortal combat under a blanket of wriggling flesh.

The tide of attackers facing the Krigor gained in fury and engulfed him with a quick tidal onslaught. He ducked down and spun with his battleaxe blade held in front of him. As fast as he threw the gutted bodies around him more came at him again.

Shizlan emerged from the grid locked dog pile with the ship captain and they both quickly scrambled to their feet. He ripped the mask off the other and recoiled slightly when he saw the identity of the man he fought--but there was no time to dally. A fast cut across his chest from his opponent’s cutlass forced him back. Then they were pushed apart by a sudden wedge of scallywags that appeared between them and he realized resistance was futile.

The Jefe retreated further then, in the blink of an eye, he turned and threw his shining chakram deftly at the base of the starboard cannon. Sparks rained over the deck and ignited the fire powder from the overturned barrel. Instantly the poop deck burst into flames!


"TING!!! Bring some ting!!!" Roared the captain of the black ship.

"We ain’ got no ting, Capt’n—only wine." Cried a crew member frantically.

"Wha'dya mean we ain' got no ting. Get some ting NOW!!!!!"

In the chaos that followed, Jefe retrieved his chakram from the flames and rejoined his comrade. The two looked at each other then to the dark waters far below.


Time to jump ship Taylanin suggested.

“Aii—appears we’ve overstayed our welcome.” They made quickly to the edge and dove over board without a look back or below.

While they treaded the icy water, one voice could be heard loud and clear amongst the clamor and ruckus that ensued, “Arr, mark mi words! Kardia shall burn to brighten the nightfall of next eclipse. Avaste, ye’ve not seen the last of the Free Jacks.”

The two warriors watched as white clouds engulfed the flaming ship and it again drifted back to mystery.

“The reef can’t be too far off can it?”

“Let’s hope not.” Shizlan replied.

Taylanin couldn’t remember the journey to the rocky shore. The last impression he had was penetrating cold and deep fatigue from swimming on past the limit of even his great endurance.

The dark landscape seems to be finally brightening somewhat. He stands upright in the rocky cradle that saved him and looks around for the Jefe. Nowhere amongst the rocky terrain can he see another human form, though. He stretches his sore body and tentatively makes his way up the rock face in search of shelter.

After what seems an eternity, he reaches the summit and sees on the other side of the bluff is a sandy beach. He moves toward it slowly across the jagged rocks. As he approaches the beach, the largest Aurean sun emerges in a most brilliant light.

Taylanin turns to greet this dawn fully. He lets his eyes feast on the exploding color. When he finally does go to turn away, he stops when he sees a dark shape moving in the sky. It is still very far off, but it is moving quickly. Then he sees there is another one and another behind that, all coming quickly toward him through the air. They found him.

He turns from the bright sun and starts toward the beach. Right down there in the sand close to the ting, he sees a human form lying face down near the waves. His pulse races as he rushes over--the distance is covered quickly and he rolls the body over.


"All Alone (on a Barnacle Encrusted Reef)" by Shizlan 2004

[To be continued???]

Reprinted from the webpage:
www.bloodclans.com/kardians/incursor.htm

~ A NUCLEAR FREE ZONE ~

"Do not expect to be applauded when you do the right thing,
and do not expect to be forgiven when you err.

"But even your enemies will respect commitment--
AND A CONSCIENCE AT PEACE IS WORTH MORE
THAN A THOUSAND TAINTED VICTORIES."

-- MICHAEL KUBE-McDOWELL
12 years after THE BATTLE OF ENDOR

--==={:=========----------- *

[Pages 3-5]

Dark Times


Darkness of the streets and the kids are dealing,
fires in the night and the pigs are squeelin'.
Flames are burning high lightin' all the faces
of the people out there, forming a riot!

Dark Times, where's the light on the streets?
Look out there--all that you see
may soon be a distant...
memory.

There's vampires around me, grinning as they suck energy.
They seek me, for I am a mystery, and they ask me,
"What care we for innocence?" The fire in their eyes
is glaring red and gleaming from corners...
of darkness.

Dark Times, where's the light to be found?
We've looked to our savior, but He's not around;
we look outside for someone to set us free,
and all we have to do is see that...

We've been livin to long in the dark,
in a world where we aren't free, I say.
What I want to be
should be up to me.

Darkness of the streets and the dead are walkin.'
Shops with broken windows and the shadows are stalkin.'
Flames are leapin' high in all the city,
people thinkin everywhere...is this the end?

Dark Times, where's the light on the streets?
Talk of the days, yeah, we've heard the prophesies.
You know what they say, they say,
that soon this may be a memory.

There's vampires around her, beckoning from with fraternities.
Bloodshot eyes, lustfilled eyes, she turns, she screams, and she flees to the night.
With their weapons in their hands, dripping red and theres crying, from corners...
of darkness.

Dark Times, where's the light to be found?
We've looked to the nations but their only bound
to serve the system that brought us to tears.
You know they can't give back the years that...

We've been livin so long in the dark,
surviving on morsels from high society.
Thrown down here we struggle to see:
who will be the ones to rule after all the rulers are gone?

Darkness on the streets and the dogs are howlin.
There's gutted broken houses and the shadows are prowlin'.
Good citizens listen, better lock your doors,
'cause you know that the 'hoods not safe anymore.

Dark Times, where's the light on the streets?
Thrown down here we struggle to see:
who will be the ones to raise the alarm?
There's a shadow on the country but no one knows the harm.

There's vampires around us posing as good citizens.
They strive to corrupt all we've struggled to build.
In these Dark Times we really need Allies--
we're refugees surrounded by an ocean...
of darkness.

Dark Times, where's the light to be found?
We've looked to our leaders but they're only bound.
To serve the system that's brought us to tears.
You know they can't replace the years that...

We've been livin so long in the dark--
surviving on morsels thrown from high society.
Come with us let's play in the streets.
We can stand together...
mightily.

-- Anadi ShootingStar
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> *

Fall 1994 for
the Circles of Light Alliance