O'Braugh Connemara

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=The Present soon to be Past=
Like a dagger cutting a taut thread her voice gripped his senses, and his hand trembled slightly to blur the ink on his most secret journal's page. Tall frame shifted from the divan he was seated on in his private library in a rise, and the black flesh of his chest's hard contours was revealed fair of piment in the crimson dawn's sun beam which flooded through the window. A gasped breath and he ducked out of the light, his flesh blackening again into charcoal. Robe's midnight folds were quickly lashed around his straps of muscle, chain belt's clasp secured, and the deep pall of his hood swept over his inky facial features with his incredible length of dense, spiraling black ribbons tucked within the robe. "Join me in my chambers, dear heart." His soft alto base tones carressed her senses like a breath of oasis air. No window to the sunlight did his bed chamber vaunt to reveal the human visage entombed within black, satin flesh. A breath of tremulous pain was drawn and he stepped to the window to jerk the drapes closed, his eyes slicing thin against the cruel needles of sunlight. He turned and shadows gathered, swirling and snaking in ribbons to encompass him and in liquid strides did the darkness he summoned deliver him to his bedroom. The sun was painful but not lethal to the shadow demon, and fully cloaked he could tolerate day light hours, but if the sun bathed his ebony flesh, his fleshen origin was exposed in an agonized unvieling. Once his full human semblence was revealed by sunlight's lasting exposure, the pain ebbed and his pre-demonic emergance endured until darkness embraced him again, in painful reformation of his Progenetor's blood curse. Borlius was not exactly sired.. he had been permanantly transposed by Mendorin's powerful blood necromancy, and enslaved. The enslavement had been irradicated with Mendorin's capture into eternal purgatory within the River of Souls.

=Reflections of a Portrait=
He stood by a portrait Marcus had painted of him trudging through the snow, half starved and about to faint of exhaustion as Marcus had found him. He had been cloaked in a tattered mantle, his boots eroded with holes, his ebony trails of curlycew locks discolored with soil and matted. His face was not well exposed as he had requested of his male bed mate. Homosexuality was something Mendorin had introduced him to...where he had otherwise been heterosexual all his life. The pleasures Mendorin had shown him were now imbedded in his carnal constitution and could no more be denied that his life long desire for the fairer sex. O'Braugh was dead, and Borlius had been born to live in his place, bi-sexual, honorable, wise, and whistful of the past he could never reclaim. Borlius had imposed on Marcus never to expose his face in a painting. "That face is a thing of the past, only to be revealed by me when I wilt." he had told him, and his dear life lover obeyed, as always, the master he shared a talent for the arts with.

=Portrait of Dal's lost Slave=
On another wall was a painting of his dear, handsome, but scarred Marcus, a portrait painted by Borlius's hand. Sensual, brooding in his pose, dark, roman eyes smoldering with the possessive and fierce worship of his Sire. A slave he had been to Dal, and owed to his fierce defiance, Marcus had been much abused to delight Dal's sadistic side. He had been Dal's ghoul, but by the power of his uncommonly strong will, Marcus had possessed the capability to defy Dal's will even despite their bond. Through a painful ritual Borlius had overthrown Dal's bonds and bonded Marcus to himself, and because he wanted Marcus to reside forever as his companion, he'd Sired him as his first acolyte, and as his blood child, Marcus maintained his human coils, blending into shadows only as he willed. It would be years before Dal discovered what had happened to Marcus that winter two hundred years bygone when Borlius was vaniquished for two years to the Cold Sun Nethers of Morashtar's northermost pole, as punishment for disappointing Mendorin. Bitter cold were those ice packed marches which Borlius roamed in his earth born semblance, where the sun never set but behind the clouds which heralded forth the blizzards.

=Dal's claim to the Seamais Aeldan Madaer artifact=
Marcus had been sent to that barren land of glacier and ice to procure a rare artifact for Dal. The SeÃ²mais Aeldan Madaer, the Lost Ebullient Star, a perfect sphere of star topaz which appeared as if formed out of ice with the power to imprison targets within its lost frontiers of desert, stone, caverns and ice where the only available water is its raging seas. Those lost marches are a veritable world, the crystal a one way path which gate seizure powers deliver a target to, its keeper possessing the sole voice which can liberate those trapped in that harsh Ebullient, where the only living inhabitants are those condemned and left to dwell as prisoners of those forgotten frontiers. Dal had promised Marcus to free him of his bonds and guardianship if he procured the item for him, intending to keep his word by breaking bonded enslavement and trapping Marcus within the SeÃ²mais Aledan.

=The Rescue of Borlius=
Three others died after Marcus attempting to brave the Groaning Glaciers to obtain the SeÃ²mais Aeldan Madaer, and it was Delphius who awarded loss by capturing the crystal for his most cherished Lord Mensha, for Marcus never made it to the Groaning Glacier Caverns where the SeÃ²mais Aeldan Madaer had remained encased in a stalagmite pillar of ice for ages unremembered, surrounded by walls, dagger spikes and precipaces of ice which were perpetually and perilously shifting with yawns, groans and roars which harked of its dangers. No indeed, instead Marcus found a man beaten down by that cruel region, and using the power of the Gate Talisman Ring Dal had provided for him, Marcus returned with Borlius to the Cold Sun Nethers passage, a small patch of ice marked with an immense pillar of ice which was the only point on the pole where entry and exit was possible by gate powers, the rest of the region a dead zone where active magics were neutralized. From there he traveled with the man who appeared to be on death's door, to an Inn he knew of, and payed for a suite, fed, clothed, kept him warm by a fire, and as night hours curtain fell, lo, the man's flesh became black and satin as charcoal, and of his years lived in human guise, lost in wastelands of ice, he remembered NOTHING, as he in that earth born assembly recalled nothing of his life as a shadow demon. It was part of his curse, that he remember nothing between his two living paradoxes. With nightfall, Borlius was still very ill from the hypothermia and effects of frost bite which he began to recover from with Marcus's attentive care and his own powers of regeneration, which had been slowed tremendously by starvation and dehydration. Marcus reacquainted himself with Borlius, the handsome roman with the swarthy hair and eyes, whose flesh was marred with many lash, fang and claw scars, told Borlius the tale of how and where he had found him, all the while attending his needs. Borlius informed him of his requirement to be protected from the sunlight, and Marcus insured he was not met by daylight. Then on the third day, Marcus startled as Dal's voice seized his thoughts to ask what the hell he was doing at the Three Rivers Inn.. which in years to come Dal would ironically end up owning.

=Borlius's Claim of Marcus=
His fearful expression arrested Borlius's attention and the demon trespassed on Marcus's thoughts, and without warning he shot up in bed to grapple Marcus's shoulders as the powers of the shadows were invoked to cloak Marcus from all discernment, and then he shifted them through shadows' viel to High Tower Mountain's Keep, which was heavily warded by Mendorin's powers, commanding the gate to deliver them directly to his own private floor within the keep. In embrace of his demonhood he recalled nothing of Mendorin vanquishing him to suffer in fair form in the Cold Sun Nethers of Morashtar. Only when daylight's exposure returned him to his earth born habit would he recall his master's cruelty. Mendorin pretended a thankful homecoming and ignorance of what fate had stolen Borlius away from, his lies protected by the curse of Cloven Identities.

=Apostle of Fate=
Fate... Whatever he had suffered, whatever changes had delivered him from those forgotten days of lore and legend as an Eiresh warlord, into slavery, had delivered him into the hands of Marcus, and Marcus into his embrace as well, as his mate and most beloved companion. Borlius had no doubt it was fate's will to be, and was thankful for the gifts which every storm bestowed to him. Marcus Quintus, who had been of his blood for one hundred years. Mendorin had allowed Borlius to choose his companions as he desired, for he had also his adopted daughter Allyssa, Mascen's sister resurrected, to 'occupy himself with.' Now the fates had delivered Celeste and Mascen to him, and the fates would determine who left him and who stayed by his side. As his door opened behind him he spoke softly, as if to himself, but his statement was meant also for her. "There are very few accidents." An assurance, a reminder, a guarantee, to himself and her.

=A Shadow Demon's counsel=
The dark lord pivoted around slowly as Celeste entered his chambers, he marking her almost timid demeanor, a shyness wraught of heart break, a soul forlorn by broken hope. He stepped several feet away from the painting and opened his arms to her in offer of his comforts, his arms enveloping her with his robes as she met him to be carried into his temperate embrace, neither warm, nor cold. "My beloved lady, tell me why you grieve so." He pressed soft kisses to her lovely, raven tress and stroked the length of her silken strands as she poured her heart out to him, shuddering against him, breath trembling in anguish as she spoke her soul's burden to the demon who listened with an open mind and heart to her woes. "Shall you abandon him in conviction where your heart loves him true still? Shall you bend your volition to a clever vampire's Machiavellian provocations therein laying down his claim to Mascen's priceless physical fortes? Let not this ordeal stake claim to all your doubts and fears, for it is but one road traveled in your everlasting voyage through the annals of your life. Regrets dwell forever in the heart and embodiments of immortal kind, my sweet. Ask yourself this.." And his hands slid tenderly to curl strong, willowy fingers around her shoulders and hold her apart therein the investment of his smoldering black pools, her retreating hand catching the cloth of his hood to brush it back, his long ringlets of twilight iridescence spilling waist long locks over his shoulders and back, burying the hood beneath. Eyes as depthless as the abyss itself lanced her vision and penetrated the siberian blue mirrors of her soul. "What regret would be more deeply harbored? Losing him altogether without a fight.. or suffering to share him as the slave he is to the lusts of a very powerful vampire Lord? Is he guiltless? No. Is he a victim? Yes... of his own confusion and a very clever and artful vampire's machinations. Never doubt for a moment that his vulnerability was not preyed upon by Dal Mensha, for no matter how guiless and innocent of foul deeds he may portray himself to belong to, he is a predator who seized the moment of Mascen's susceptibility with full advantage taken withal intention of making Mascen's fabulous and oh so rare attributes his very own. His acts are a selfish innovation. Trust nothing that bastard says or alleges of his bed slave." He smiled then, artfully, and swept her hands into his own and led her over to the fur encased sofa against the wall across from his bed, a standing hearth in the center of his private chamber's great room, his bed on the otherside of the stone chimney draped with heavy bed curtains of black with red tassles dangling from a band the same color woven in celtic knots, the bed spread and pillows also black and red. Some preferances never died. He urged her down on the very comfortable sofa as he seated himself, twisting around to face her better.

=A brief tale of love lost=
Her hands were still clasped in his own fingers lace, were drawn into his lap as his gaze absorbed her features, and he could not help but be stirred by the strength he envisioned in her heart-stricken expression, nor did he miss the novel manner in which she studied him, as if remembering something she could not quite place, or perhaps, allow herself to question. He smiled to her and squeezed her hands. "I once loved a woman, and lost her... and to this day I wonder...what if I had not chosen the path I had...to place duty before my love for her, and her's for me? And each time I asked myself that, I remembered that my life was never my own, but destiny's, for long before I met her, I had given myself to fate. I am what I am now, live this life here with whom I live it because it was fate's bidding that it be so. I command my own destiny where I am able, but what I can not control I accept as preordained and make the best of it."

=Borlius speaks of cross-roads.=
After a contemplative pause, "You have met a cross-road with your husband...and it is not yet out of your control to choose which fork in this road the fates have paved before you. Both roads lead to change. One road leads you away from Mascen, and the other to forgiving him and accepting his struggles as your own. Neither is right or wrong, but your own choice to make, to embrace. Just remember that fate is fickle, and often where one journeys down a path out of sight of a cross-road, there is no going back. So choose carefully the path you tread."

=A wise Lord's proposal=
He fell silent and within his own revery to allow her to mull over all he had conveyed unto her, his sage eyes descending into his own thoughts as his thumbs softly brushed the back of her hands with tender carresses. When her voice carried to his senses to break the silence, his striking gaze arose to meet her ice pale blue eyes. The captivating depths of his inky pools revealing how clearly her heart's testimony was attended, and when her voice trailed to pause he withdrew one hand from her's and brushed her cheek softly with his fingers before cupping her cheek delicately. So strong were those hands which were capable of such tenderness. "Let me lay another option with those others which you have to choose from." Drawing her regard raptly into his own. "I offer you a share of my bed, of my passions, with or without Marcus whom I love dear as life, as I love you. My love is as the shadows which are everpresent in their encompass and yet elusive in light of day...while possessing at all hours some part of the world. As shadows bathe the flesh in comfort from the harsh rays of the sun, does my love give breath to solace where the heart suffers the harshness of winter's anguish. As the nightshade and shade of summer asks nothing in return for its comforts, nor do I. Only a hope that some solace, some relief is attained." He paused and lips expressed a soul stirring smile that was purely benevolent. "It is true of course that sometimes the darkness preserves the ice where shadows fall the hardest. If you choose to estrange yourself from your husband, so shall my love preserve your conviction to harden your heart against his pleas to keep him as your spouse. Love him, or leave him...I offer you a place at my side with Marcus as a lover and cherished companion, for as long as your heart, your desires, or simply your needs will. I ask nothing in return, but for you to give or take what suits you from my proposal as granted. My offer is yours to take, or to leave, for your own reasons out of your own choice."

=The love of Marcus and Borlius=
He smiled as she asked if Marcus would resent his offer to her, and shook his head slowly. "No. He resents nothing for his love is true you see...Chaste, undivided and unconditional, as is my love for him, and if given the chance, as it shall be for you. How, may I ask of you, can the shadows resent what they embrace and what embraces them, hmm?" Another sage smile spreading the ebony suppleness of his lips. "It is his choice to harbor his lusts for me alone, and share them only with who I bring into our bed. What I adore, he adores, as is also his choice. He is too dear to me to force my will upon, lest he ask it of me, or to protect him from harm as it is with you, with all I bind to myself."

=The shadows begin to unviel=
Again he paused to let her speak of her reservations, her doubts, of her feelings, while in the tension of her muscles, in the swimming glisten of tears in her eyes, the soft waver of her voice he could tell she longed to consent to his offer of affection, her soft address of not believing herself amiable to being touched by Marcus drawing a subtle smile from his lips. "That too is your choice in the offering...whether to be quickened by just I or us both. He shall adore you either way. He already does, doting on you like a little sister. He is very protective of you if you have not noticed, which explains why he ranted and raved so over Mascen's treatment of your heart. How can he not cherish you? You are such a dear, sweet, good hearted lass." His lungs let blissful laughter, and he swept her into a firm embrace, warmly, endearingly, then released her to smile as his eyes shimmered on her as the stars shone in the blackness of the heavens. "My master was selfish like Dal Mensha. He cursed me, yet unwittingly bestowed me with a gift. He made me what I am that he have a servile companion whose wisdom would be negotiated by the shadows which I became an embodiment of. Where once my wisdom was tainted with rashness, a fiery temper and warring emotions, my coming into demonhood with the darkness gave me balance, made my wisdom stable, dependable that my counsel to him was without error. If I am unsure, I let it be known what is a guess and what is a certain investment."

=The persuasive prowess of an arch shadow Lord=
He sank deeply into the soft furred cushions, gathering her slender, attractively athletic and tall figure against his own with cozy affection. "The shadows are not without emotion, passion, or rapture, oh no. They lend striking contrast to colors, form, and light. They kiss the earth with all which stands between them and the radiance of the sun... or the wavering flames of a fire, the lumines of a lightbulb...the incandescence of an oil lamp. Regardless, shadows can exist without light, for where there is a total absence of light, one enters into blackness absolute. Like fire and ice...no...not even that...for the shadows can not so much as meet the light, for then...they vanish, cease to exist in that moment until the light is eclipsed again."

=Yours truly, Borlius Black Heart=
His gaze peirced her's and he observed her awhile, drinking in her expressions, her demeanor. "I am the embodiment of darkness...of the shadows. Two Lords dwell in and around these parts with the epitat Black Heart. An honorable rogue, as hardened robbers go, by the name of Bartholomew Fukwah."

He laughed as she raised a brow and blurted a breath of laughter at the name. "Yes, you heard me right, which might explain why he goes by Black Bart, or Bart the Black Heart. The other Black Heart is yours truly. Borlius Black Heart. I am not ruthless, nor cruel when I kill, I simply dispose of my enemies without regret, without hesitation, without emotion. Yes, Black Heart suits me perfectly, for when logic and wisdom dictate I must kill, for whatever reason, my heart is eclipsed in that absolute absence of light I mentioned, cold as the deepest reaches of space... as the abyss. Ice forms on my flesh when I take a life."

=The secrets daylight harbored=
How many had he broken his silence with to shed his mysterious and elusive nature in revelation of himself, since becoming what he now was? Two. Marcus and now Celeste. He was not given to being liberal with his personal thoughts and the aspects of what he was, and never dared to reveal himself completely. It was with both personal preferance and self preservation he kept himself a mystery, for a clever and intelligent enemy could discover his weaknesses to know too much about him, even figure out how to destroy him...or rather, destroy the curse he embraced so thankfully, and with it, rip all his power from him to leave him equal in strength to a human with an immortal's prowess, as it happened when exposure to sunlight delivered him into his earth born vessle's habit. Even then he maintained the power to regenerate, to recoup his own amazing, dark star blood, which might explain why he had yet to have allowed Celeste to taste of his nectar, his other immortal attributes including a precognative sense of insight, and a preturnatural connection to the natural world, an aroma and flavor reminiscent of 'All Spice's' flavor of cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg. "Why you taste like gingerbread fresh out of the oven." Marcus's words in praise of his flavor, nevermind his lusty comments about the euphoric powers granted by Borlius's sexual release. Regardless of his immortal gifts in human guise, once reduced to such a state, he was far more vulnerable to death blows...and capture, although his way of death was a challenge, for only by suicide was death beckoned to deliver him to his final resting place. Regardless of the method of his enduring fatality, he could still be reckoned with by beheading, or some means of obliteration, which would result in his soul being plummeted into a dangerous and unpredictable ordeal in the underworld. Where he was the overlord of that domain, a journey in death to the deeper regions of his demi-world could prove particularly perlious for him. The denizons of the Underworld would hardly care that he was the Arch Lord of the netherworld. Why that was to their advantage if he should be at their mercy for a change, now wasn't it?

=Prompting Resolve=
His eyes ravished her with their rapt discernment for an interum where silence spanned his chambers, a faint smile expressed that was difficult to capture in the intangibility of his charcoal features. "Tell me your thoughts on my proposal to thee, and fear not your heart's aspirations therein, for I can only respect any decision you make, or any feelings you possess as a genuine reflection of who you are. My love when offered is granted earnestly, and as such I accept and honor one for their true resolve." He encouraged her honesty with compassionate understanding. "Steadfast I shall abide in wait of your resolve, albeit a prompt declaration shall let my anticipation rest, in end of all eagerness. I beg you not keep my heart and soul suspended too long in limbo of your determination." He added expressly and then a smile swept away his sober countenance. "I am absent minded when discontent." He laughed and jostled her fondly with a hug, hence his ebony lips pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek prior to rising from the couch with an airy grace as if his muscular stature had been lifted as a feather by the wind. Alike in fluidness were the strides which ushered him away from her, around the Great Hearth to his bed, where he shed himself of his robes, skinned off the black leggings he wore beneath, and lie himself down. Like a vampire, he slept most often during the day to avoid the risk of being transformed. The blackouts from one form to another were very worrisome. "Consider all I have told you while I rest. Wake me if you come to a decision in concerns to Mascen and my proposal to you. May contentment find us both, dear heart." Within fifteen minutes he would be fast joined with slumber.

Recent History of O'Braugh
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O'Braugh had heard the entire conversation from beginning to end since Galaxy and the fellow named Tresil had entered. O'Braugh was not a fan of Valis, and did not trust him necessarily, but he respected him. He was at the corner table where the shadows fell hard on him, a candle barely lighting his face the way he leaned back in his chair to drink his whiskey. The moment he stood and walked over to the table, both Galaxy and Tresil alike might think he was Malachai until they realized this man was older by about fifteen years. He was twenty years older actually, but looked younger than he was. On good days he could pass for a fresh thirty instead of almost 40. The most striking thing about O'Braugh and Malachai alike was the hair...hair which was so long it was hard not to sit on it, hair so dense it was more of a mane, and curls so springy they could be called corkscrews. O'Braugh WAS the one Arasgal had made in his image...The first one, now that Malachai had been created. O'Braugh was no longer under the curse Solbaid had laid on him...The shadow demon curse. He had cured it by answering the antidote which was to face his final sin...The one sin that had always defeated him in the past. Whatever sexual deviant O'Braugh had ever been, he was no longer. He had rejected his male lover and was ever faithful to his wife Celeste now. He loved her with all his heart. It had been a long time since he had been to the Lake of Shadows. His search for his brother Eoghan had brought him there. He had met with little success in that hunt. It was funny. He pretended not to even notice the conflict going on between Valis and Tresil as he gently took Galaxy by the arm and urged her to come to his table. "It is best to let the immortals work out their own problems, Lass. I heard you mention food? What is thy pleasure?"

CeasedIsTheHeart: Tresil knew it was futile to try and stand as he stared down the barrel of a gun and would then take a deep breath. He did not know fear, though he knew whst a gun could do, if the trigger was pulled the bullet would punch through his brain and likely out the otherside. That is what would have happened before Valis added any extra punch to the gun, as it was he could certainly be even more wholly beaten by that weapon. The angel though just watched, was this what fear felt like? His spine tingled, his knees felt weak. Oh it was such an exciting and nausiating feeling! Gods, he felt such a strange calm that followed too. But the angel also had lacked pride then, he had never had anything to be proud about really he had followed orders and killed, his honor was already tarnished, destroyed by his masters own will. But Tresil slowly stood up then, he knew he did not wish to die yet, he could try to shift to his formless spirit body, but he could feel the wards around him, he was not sure of their function, but the angelican was aware, he could feel them. He smiled then and came to a knee then and looked up at the gun barrel with the gun perhaps pressed to his forehead, depending how far the vampire had gotten before turning back on him. "I apologize for categorizing you with that fiend, my enemy, Mekkor. I Tresil, humbly beg to be forgiven." the Alamascan had enough sense to see himself spared for his mistake, though he wondered something, would the vampire like to see an end to Mekkor. "I also have another question.. If you wish to answer. How interested would you be in seeing Mekkor ended?" He asked, at this point the forgiveness could be granted, or Tresil could be shot in the head and laid low. Though he was truely interested in his question being answered. Perhaps it was foolish, but Mekkor was not a trifle to deal with, he also wondered how hard it would be to convince what was more likely then not someone who would ever see eye to eye with Tresil, to cooperate with him against a common enemy. But this heavily depended on well, if Tresil lived or not.:

(03:08:35) LiftTheDarkness: Gala's eyes flew wide open the moment that Valis's gun was pulled, and the colour drained from her face. She froze in any movement she had been making and just stared. She hadn't even noticed O'Braugh's presence until his hand gently took her arm, and she startled under his hand, head whipping around so she could look at him. For a moment, it was as though she was seeing Malachai, but aged. It was a little bit surreal. Perhaps this was the father Malachai had been mentioning? If so, the physical resemblance was startling! She barely hesitated before she stood and allowed him to lead her towards his table. There was something a little comforting about the way he spoke...the words he used reminded her of that strawberry blonde fellow from her dreams. Eoghan, she thought. She didn't remember any use of the name Belorian; just that first name she had known him as had peppered her dreams. O'Braugh she didn't remember at all, though. Perhaps that might be a little insulting to him, but her visits with him had always been scattered over rather large gaps in time...her dreams weren't exactly predictable in which memories they would bring to the surface. She let him seat her at his table, and at his question, she glanced sidelong at Valis and Tresil. "I...don't think I'm hungry anymore." She informed him with a weak smile. Apparently the comment about spilling brains over the table had killed her appetite.

It was true that Valis had not killed many innocents...Many people yes, but not many innocents, unless you counted the New Orleans incident, which was triggered by the worst kind of blood rage coming out of a petrification. His clan had been dominated by Valaeros into commiting that most terrible of betrayals and deeds on Valis. Valis had killed hundreds in one night in an uncontrollable blood rage. He could not stop himself. It had taken him over completely. It was one of the dangers of being a vampire of Valis generation and prowess. If reduced to such a weakened, wounded, paranoid and enraged state, a vampire could commit mass murder in only hours unintentionally. He had faced a trial by Denoir and was forgiven only because Tiber had managed to cover it up, and because Valis was not really to blame. Valaeros was. Valis had been banished from New Orleans regardless. He gritted his teeth as it dawned on him that it must have been Mekkor who had taken him. His face contorted with emotions only Valis could name as the angel stood and came to kneel before him. A head shot by Valis would have killed him, no refunds. But this time it would not be necessary. Valis had not expected the angel to actually concede to his demands. His eyes thinned on Tresil as he knelt there, brow to his gun's muzzle. Valis clenched his cheeks and holstered the gun. "I accept your apology, sincere as it is." Had he not been truly contrite, he still would have shot him...Perhaps not killed him, but put three bullets in him as a reminder not to piss the wrong people off. "Some have been so hurt by that demon they migfht never forgive you for such a facsimile, or just hate what he is enough to believe you an utter fool for believing they could be anything like him. I am one of the later. I may gather the souls of sinners and kill enemies of Acheron for a living, but I am no deviant. Few of us ARE what you Alamascan think we are. Haman just wants to keep us down. You will see it for yourself one day. That is why your master does not want you to be able to think for yourselves." Valis went back to the bar.

O'Braugh patted her hand when Galaxy said she was not hungry. "A drink then...Here." He poured her a glass of the smooth Irish whiskey he was drinking. Lake of Shadows Inn was known for its imports. "You know...Valis was warning you about Tresil. I would warn you off this place altogether, but maybe you are fated to be tangled up with this crowd, whatever your husband may think. You are a good influence on the devil. Maybe a part of him fears you will reform him completely. That is who they are trying to hide you from Galaxy. Your husband, the devil." Leave it to O'Braugh to spill the truth. There was a reason he and Maelmorda did not get along. O'Braugh seemed to TRY to foil his plans! The King of the forgotten world really knew how to start a conversation, didn't he?

(03:43:40) LiftTheDarkness: Galaxy thought the pat to her hand was rather comforting, and she accepted the drink, even though she couldn't actually remember whether she enjoyed alcohol. Trust Agares not to re-introduce her to the stuff. By the time O'Braugh had finished talking, Gala was looking at him like he'd sprouted another head. She eyed up the bottle of whiskey, wondering exactly how much he'd finished on his own. She only remembered one husband, and she didn't think he was the devilish sort. Well, there was the whole incident with that first set of twins...but...still. "The devil?" She repeated slowly, as though wondering if there was something she was misunderstanding. "My husband is the devil?" She paused, and then added, "Then, I am married. I thought I might be." Was that the hint of a smile quirking at her lips? Trust Gala to latch onto that particular bit of information. She never had offered much concern regarding the fact that her husband was the devil. Those were just details, bits that made up the whole. Now, her curiosity was peaked. "You know me, then. Can I know your name, since you know mine already?" She had leaned forward a bit, and one could just see that she was shaping up to fire questions at him. She seemed to have entirely forgotten about Tresil for the moment. Was that a bit cruel? She didn't mean to be. But what would one expect, when faced with someone holding important puzzle pieces? Of course she would be distracted by him!

(04:01:52) JD: Valis had heard Tresil's question but ignored it for the moment, just as he had ignored Galaxy, but when Tresil followed him to the bar to ask him again, he shook his head. "I am not your friend, Tresil. I will answer no questions of murder coming from you." He threw a cold hard eye on Tresil when he said this. "You are walking a dangerously dark path, Tresil, one which might lead you straight back into Hell. I advise you to take that soul of yours back to your master and try to reconcile it with him and yourself. Acheron is not for you. Your order can never enter Acheron and live as fallen as long as your order hunts the Tsetar. You are the children of Alamas, not of Lucifer. If you seek your father, seek him. It was Alamas who made you. And do not ask me where to find to him. I have no idea. Ask your god."

O'Braugh was very attentive to her as she spoke. He had no reason to hide anything from her. His loyalty was to himself and his own kingdom, which was not related to Acheron. "The devil yes, more properly, The Morning Star, known better to Morashtar as Maelmorda Kilcanoragh. Well, as far as I know you are still married. I have not been in these parts for some years now. I am sure I would have heard if you two were divorced though. My name, of course. I am O'Braugh Connemara, Lord of Morgal Eshvah, otherwise known as the Abandoned World...sometimes also called the forgotten world. It is a sort of Hell...but one not as harsh. Many lost souls wind up there...I know you well, but not as well as some. My brother is closer to you than I ever was. Your husband and I never got along you see. We have different opinions of how things should be. I respect him, and he I, but we conflict. I think him foolish for believing he is not good enough for you. I know that is why he has done this, because he had always believed that of himself. He should have trusted your faith in him. The fact that he is incapable of being faithful, and is an incurable fag may have a lot to do with it as well. He loves one woman and many men. He always thought that unfair to you, but he never desired to be different. He is what he is. Maybe he felt pressured by that fact...Who knows the mind of one so complex, hmm?" He smiled. O'Braugh could always be counted on to be honest, even brutally frank.

(04:16:06) LiftTheDarkness: Poor Gala looked a bit overwhelmed by all that information, but she picked it apart in her head, bit by bit. "The Maelmorda in my dreams was good enough for me," She informed him matter-of-factly. "I can't believe he'd have any doubt. I don't think I ever would have doubted it for a minute. I don't remember it all yet, but there was a reason I remember waiting for him. I can't think I would have stood for such long absences, if he wasn't worth it, you know?" The expression that crossed her face was rather tender. Her memories of him that had returned were, for the most part, good ones. She looked a little surprised at the comment about her husband loving many men. Huh. She didn't look as surprised as one would think, though...apparently some of her dreams had hinted at that. She paused, then, and looked at him closely. "You said your name is O'Braugh?" She inquired. "There's a boy in Hawker's Fort who's looking for you." She informed him, suddenly realizing why the name sounded familiar. In her early days at the cottage, she had wandered away from the yard and gotten herself horribly lost. The one who had brought her back to the safety of the cottage had been one Raulin Morrow Connemara, and he had asked her at that time whether she had ever met an O'Braugh. It was not an especially common name, so she figured this must be him. It was a vit strange that she called Raulin a 'boy', and not a 'man'...he had had a bit of a youthful glow still, and a certain boyish charm, even though he appeared to be close to Gala's own age. "He's about...this high, and hair as dark as your own, but quite long and straight. And violet eyes, deep purple. Do you know him?" She was gesturing in reference to Raulin's height.

"It may not matter that he was good for enough for you if his doubts all rest in himself, lass. A man in love wants what he believes is best for those he loves. He may naugh know what is best, or maybe he does and they do naugh. He is difficult to outguess...But if I were to take a shot at it, I would say he divided you from himself to safeguard himself, not you. He may have made provisions you do not even realize yet to ease his guilt...But for him...and it has always been so, to love you is to be torn. I know what it is to feel that way, but I had an advantage he did not. I could defeat my demons. He cannot. He tries...But his wounds are too deep, too interwoven through the entirety of his soul. I believe he has to discover if he can live without you, and if not? How he can survive you." O'Braugh had given a great deal of thought to Maelmorda over the centuries, and came closer than anyone else to actually figuring him out, which was another reason Maelmorda did not love him. Sometimes he was wrong aboujt him as well, terribly wrong.

When she mentioned that someone had been looking for him, the name was all he needed to carve his face out with a smile which revealed his devastatingly charming side as much as it had Killian, and did Malachai. "Raulin, My Gods...I long lost contact with him, all sense of him. He evades me....I never could figure out how, but he does, much as my brother Eoghan does. Raulin is my son...My only living son. He is here, in An Morendor?" When she verified the question he grinned. "What are the chances he is still there? Was he settled there? Did he speak of traveling anywhere?" Now it was he flooding her with questions. "I should love to take him home. I always imagined him as one of my knights. They are all there. All my old mates. He would appreciate my world I think. It is...nothing like our homeland. It is comprised of canyons, deserts and mountains of stone, twisted forests and many small deserts and aridlands. There is little water but where there is water it is very pure and runs through or bubbles up through hard stone. The world I rule over is spartan but beautiful in its own way. It is dangerous and it is peaceful. It is primitive...Far more so than this world. Spirits, outcast creatures which can travel vast distances tend to gravitate there. My castle is situated on a series of such springs which fill our wells and fountains with the sweetest water. Phantoms, demons and creatures of shadow and ether, beings and people unbecoming to the eyes serve are protected by me and mine there, and some of them serve me as free beings. I should like for you to see my home one day as well. I think you might like the north country best. There is snow there all year round and glaciers and the awesome caves they form."

Galaxy was quiet as she considered the things O'Braugh told her. A somewhat sad look passed over her expression as she considered O'Braugh's guesses as to what her husband's motivation had been. He'd felt the need to safeguard himself. She couldn't begin to guess why he would need to, but it maybe stung a bit that he felt the need to separate them. And she felt a little guilty...she wondered if she had known that she was causing him to feel that way. As to be expected, the explanation had brought more questions to the surface, but for once, she didn't blurt them out. Her husband needed to figure out if he could live without her, and she supposed she ought to let him do just that. Perhaps she had been wrong to try and contact him; she hadn't known that he had wanted to keep an amount of distance between them. Finally, she glanced up at O'Braugh, after what was probably a rather long period of silence, and she'd simply remark, "You know him quite well, don't you? You understand him."

The smile that crossed O'Braugh's face at the mention of Raulin made her own lips twitch into an answering smile. There was no way she could resist smiling back; that kind of smile was contagious! "He's your son? You ought to be proud; he was very gentlemanly. He didn't even look at me like I was insane when he found me lost not five minutes' walk from my cottage." She smiled sheepishly. She seemed amused, though, at the way he started firing off questions. "It was months ago, now, so I'm not sure what the chances were that he may still be there. He mentioned heading to a tavern in town and seeing whether he could catch any word of you. He seemed to think he was more likely to catch wind of you on a place like Hawker's Fort...the busier the city, the better, I gathered. He didn't mention settling there, but he also didn't mention that he would be leaving any time soon." She answered him as best she could. And then she blinked and leaned forward excitedly. "Eoghan is your brother? I remember him!" She seemed absolutely thrilled that she could actually remember somebody by name. "Raulin asked after him, too, but I had no memory of him at that point. I wish I had remembered." She smiled. "Your brother is very dear to me, isn't he? Memories of him started returning almost as early as memories of my husband." She listened to his description of where he currently made his home. Her eyes absolutely lit up at the mention of snow. "Oh, you do know me well, don't you? I love the snow...I'd love to see your home someday. And I do hope that you find your son...he's very sweet, and I think he's been searching for you for a very long time." She paused, as it occurred to her that he might know about the question that had been bothering her. "O'Braugh, do I have children with my husband?" The memories that had returned to her of her children were very few. She remembered the twins vaguely as toddlers, and rather thought that they were hers, but had no real proof of that. And she remembered a child with golden curls and a mischievous smile. But no memories of adult Corwyn had returned to her! She knew in her heart that the children she was remembering were her own, but she was almost afraid to find out where they were, if they were not with her.

When asked if he knew Maelmorda well, O'Braugh quirked a brow, his ice-blue eyes (unlike Malachai's) piercing her stormy mirrors of grey-blue. "I sometimes think I know and understand him, but, My Lady, I am unsure if anyone can ever be sure they know his mind or heart. He is the incarnate of chaos, and as chaotic formulas are amongst the most difficult to solve, so is your husband's nature and motives most arduous to calculate. I know him better than most, and I can only attempt to speculate on his behalf."

When she spoke of the time frame she had met Raulin in a faint sigh escaped him. He was always a day, a week, or month behind crossing paths with his brother or son. Sometimes if he wondered if it was not in the stars for them to reunite unless they did so without intention. He smiled a little when she spoke of Eoghan. "Yes, he was very dear to you. He attempted to compete with Maelmorda for your favors, but could not win your heart over. Despite all our warnings against him, my warnings, Eoghan's warnings, your friends' warnings, even Maelmorda's warnings, you married the man I first knew as Killian in Kar Dur Forest on a beautiful autumn day by the falls of foggy creek mountain. A druid priest named Liam married thee." She might notice that his grammer shifted in and out of their genus. Despite his age, his dialect was still strongly Gaelic. "I know you a little," he said, his look on her savant. "You made no secret of loving snow." He laughed quietly. When the subject returned to his son and how long he had been searching for him, O'Braugh nodded. "And I him...I suppose we shall find one another when we are meant to." It was funny really, because just as he said that Raulin stepped onto the Lake of Shadows Road. He was only a few miles from the Inn. Question was, would he and his father miss each other by mere moments? The hour ahead would tell. Lips pursed when the lady with the golden hair asked him if she had any children out of Maelmorda. "A son, named Corwyn. He has been a man for some years now." Ages really. "He has your looks and I always thought he was much like his father in spirit, but ever good, like his mother." He smiled. "He is very handsome. You might have had other children, I really don't know. If I were my brother I might be able to tell you. He sees things...Knows things." Often things he shouldn't know, he thought to himself.

O'Braugh took a moment to drink several glasses of whiskey and order up another bottle with a wave of his hand. His eyes then settled on the lady. "Galaxy...I sense anxiety in thee. If ye fear that he aliented thee from himself because of something ye did wrong, ye must accept that 'tis naugh thee he fears, but himself. I knew the day would come that he would push thee away. He pushes everyone he loves away..." His voice and eyes grew distant for a moment then his regard fell intently her way. "He shared his pain with Eoghan and I once, many ages past. There is pain in him no one can ever grasp, pain that gives him his edge. It is a pain he has come to identify himself by. If he loses that...He can no longer be sure of his fate, and for one such as he to be blinded to his future, is like a warrior losing his hands and legs, and I can tell thee...It breaks such men to lose all that makes them what they are. I see no reason it should be any different for a devil, do you?"

Tresil meanwhile had plopped down on a bar stool beside Valis as the vampire ordered him a stiff drink, telling him it would do him some good. The angel made a face as he sipped the straight up tumbler of tequila set down before him. Valis said he looked like a tequilla man. The angel then cast a suspicious eye on Valis to ask him how he knew he had a soul. "I didn't, but I do now," Valis said glancing at him. "I suspected because of your outburst. No Alamascan is THAT good of an actor," he said with a smug scoff and guzzled some more of his Brennpraaga, Morashtar's version of Vodka. After some moments of comfortable silence filled with drinking; Valis fixed a honed eye on the soulbot (his nickname for him now). "See how we are sitting here and talking? This is how it should be between Acheron and Haman. None of that Upstairs Downstairs CRAP. So we are from two different Kingdoms, so the fuck what? Why can't we all just get along? Huh?" You knew Valis was high when he was cracking on English Sitcoms and Rodney King newscasts to make his points, nevermind getting buddy buddy with an Alamascan. He had been spiking his own drinks with liquid Anrhi (which he had not sampled yet until he sat down at the bar) on the sly. Tray knew it. Kano knew it. O'Braugh knew it. If Sytri was there he would know it. The ever watchful Maelmorda knew it and was amused as hell. No one else there knew him well enough to know it. "You have a resort for the goodie goodies, we have a funhouse for the baddies, so what? We all have our jobs, we take care of our guests. What's the big fuckin' deal,eh? This being at each other's throats is just stupid. I drink blood...You....drink the energy ebbing off of shit or some shit like that. Does that mean I am gonna go for your throat and that you are gonna suck up all my energy? Noop." Guzzle guzzle. "Not unless my God tells me to and your God tells you to, and why the hell should they? Seriously." He shook his head. Guzzle guzzle.

(20:23:28) LiftTheDarkness: Galaxy nodded as O'Braugh explained how very difficult Maelmorda was to understand. She had come to realize how unpredictable he was even in the dreams that had been occurring; she never knew how he would be when she dreamt of him again. With any given memory, there was a different Maelmorda being portrayed. She didn't look especially surprised that Eoghan had tried to win her heart, and actually even looked a little sad. She was certain that it had hurt him to see her married to another, if he had had feelings for her. She was sorry for that, without even remembering it; the idea of causing the gentle man she'd dreamt of pain bothered her. "I think I must've been a stubborn person. I suppose I am, even now. My father despairs of the times I set my mind on something." She was all ears when he spoke about her son. And she breathed sigh of relief and sat back in her chair, smiling a little. "He's a man. I was worried there would be younger children...I was worried it would seem as though I had abandoned them." When he mentioned that Eoghan would know better, Gala announced, "I'm going to have to track him down, I think. If I find him, I'll tell him you're searching for him. If he knows more about me, I'm going to grill him 'til his brain hurts from it." Never mind that she had no idea where to find him. She apparently was not patient enough to wait for the memories to return on her own. She had a burning curiosity about her own life. The smile slipped away from her face as he called her on her anxiety. "You're too perceptive for your own good, you know. You weren't supposed to notice." She tried to sound appropriately sulky. His words weren't especially comforting, but at least he was trying to reassure her. She appreciated that.

Raulin, meanwhile, had indeed stepped onto the Lake of Shadows Road, and he was, coincidentally enough, headed for the Inn. He'd been checking all sorts of taverns and establishments of the sort, to see whether his father had been there. Now, he wasn't checking such places because he thought his father was foxed out of his brain all the time, but because inns were such a perfect place to gather information. He assumed there had to be somebody, somewhere, who had spotted his father. And so, he was strolling towards the inn at a liesurely pace; he was never hurried in his search. After looking for his father for this long, Raulin always figured he'd either find trace of him, or he wouldn't. No reason to run himself into the ground over it.

The Lord of that obscure world fate had chained him to raised a brow. "Perceptive, aye, but thy worry is rather evident, lass. The Gods love to meddle with Eoghan's life and his memories...I have seen this sort of thing many times in him, but...He is the strongest man I know, despite his weaknesses. His confidence is only ever shaken for a little while. He is Maelmorda's favorite, you know? His favorite creature in the Universe. Because of that, Eoghan has suffered terribly at his hands." He had always wanted to ask her how she condoned that? He never had and never would. He had no desire to hurt Galaxy with the only true flaw he had ever seen in her. O'Braugh was a drinker, whether Raulin expected him to be or not, and taverns were a likely place to find him if he was on the road. He remained sober when threats loomed, for he was a man of duty to this day who knew the importance of being sharp when perils lurked. The warrior glanced over at Tresil and Valis as they talked then leaned his attention back on Galaxy. "Valis there has a point, despite whatever recreation has influenced his judgment. His reference to upstairs and downstairs is very apt. It is an allusion that upstairs is the high class and downstairs the lower class, and the indiscreet differences between their life styles, opionions, beliefs and views, yet they are very much the same people beneath, the same creatures when you strip away the veneer. It is truly a thin line between angels and demons, buit that line is made of the hardest substance imaginable...Belief. I always had this theory that beliefs were more dangerous than atomb bombs...a great weapon which can destroy entire cities, even countries, from the world you and I both originated from. Earth. Maelmorda strives not to believe in anything unless it is absolute, while Hamanites believe in what they feel in their hearts to be true. This creates a vast rift between their peoples. But imagine if they could erase that line by coming to respect one another's creed, whatever it may be? Imagine that same concept being generally excepted on the worlds they govern, how many lives would be saved? I often ask myself, why these wars and terrible conflicts of belief still exist? I know the answer. Because one side, or both, will not relent to respect and tolerance, because they fear the change that may come of it. The powers that be fear losing their supporters...Their believers. It is naugh Hell which aspires to maintain this wall between the upper and lower kingdoms, it is Haman, and for the wrong reasons it is the right thing to do. Take Valis there for instance..." He glanced over at him then locked eyes with Galaxy again. "He would have shot him, maybe even killed him, and for what? An insult? He has killed men for insulting him before. He has to be that way. He has to be to survive HIS world. Haman cannot condone such sins and corruption, so they cannot permit themselves to understand the reason for it. Valis boasts of his evil and vileness because he knows he is no more vile than the next man. He is just a survivor. So is Tresil. He bent over and kissed that vampire's white ass because he wanted to live, because for the first time in his life he can FEEL fear. Imagine that." He shook his head and poured them both another glass of whiskey.

"I am rambling. I don't usually talk very much. That is more Eoghan's trademark. It has been a very long time since I have left Morgal Eshvah. I was under a curse for a very long time and after finding an end to it...I needed to recover myself...to rectify myself with all the things I had done." He shook his head and glanced around the tavern until his gaze found its way back to Galaxy. "Tell me about your life now. You live in Hawker's Fort? You mentioned your father. Is he with you?"

Gala actually looked embarrassed that her worry had been that evident. She was currently nowhere near as adept at masking her emotions as she had been prior to the loss of her memories; they were written all over her face! She likely had no need to even talk...he could look at her and tell what was crossing her mind. And it would be painfully evident that she was not pleased at the idea of Maelmorda making Eoghan suffer. And she wondered if she had supported that, wondered how she couldn't have asked him to stop. Just another reason to worry that she would hate herself, after she remembered the person she was. "Eoghan's lost his memories before, too?" She asked curiously. That only strengthened her urge to talk to him. He'd understand how she felt, she thought. It would be comforting to have somebody understand. She listened to O'Braugh ramble, although she didn't think of it as such. She was happy that he was talking to her and found the discussion to be very interesting. When he mentioned that he didn't normally talk that much, she smiled and shook her head. "Well, I'm glad you're talking to me like that. I'm glad you've been telling me things." She informed him, and reached to pat his arm lightly. She nodded at his next question. "I do live in Hawker's Fort, in this itty bitty cottage. It's really sweet, with a big garden. My father doesn't live with me there...he's got other property in the city somewhere, but he comes to see me at the cottage. He isn't with me here, either." She grinned in a pleased manner. "He's agreed to let me venture outside a bit...I think he worries that I'll get taken advantage of, if he's not there to look after me. He's a little overprotective." She informed him, smiling fondly. She didn't seem to mind that he was protective...despite his faults, she was fond of her father.

O'Braugh looked at her rather soberly when she sought confirmation of Eoghan having lost his memories. "Lost? Lost during rebirths, taken in all other instances. It does permanent damage after awhile...After so many times. He does not rememeber things in order...Sometimes he forgets huge chunks of his life. I would kill every beast who has ever touched his mind if I could. He might heal from it if he was just given the chance to. I received reports out of Acheron from friends I have there that he was there...again, seized by a demon even my contacts are too afraid to name. He and his wife Selena were both seized, but they were released, or escaped, I know naugh which. One person has seen him. He was in a terrible state, did naugh know who he was, were he was...Was half mad this old woman told my friend. She was afraid of him. Something aweful must have happened to him. My search for him has been exhausting. My little brother is such a huge pain in the ass," he laughed dryly at that and empties another glass of whiskey, refilled it, and enjoyed another sip of that. His fifth bottle of whiskey was getting low. He had drunk three bottles before the first he shared with Galaxy.

He smiled when she thanked him for being forthcoming with her. "Ye can always look to me for the truth. Just never expect me to withold much," he chortled at that. "Sounds lovely," he remarked about the cottage, He raised his brow slightly when she mentioned that her father lived somewhere in the city. "He lives in the same city as thee and ye know naugh where he lives?" he questioned, his wonder evident. He scoffed a little when she spoke of her father's worries. "He should worry, lass. I worry about Celeste whenever we are parted, and there is no end to it until I have her in my arms again. Some of us are too aware of the dangers, Galaxy. Do naugh despair thy father's protective nature. He cares and that is good. No father is perfect. Gods know I could have been a better father. He cannot BE too protective in these wild lands." O'Braugh was as protective of his loved ones as Agares was, if not more so. He was relieved that Raulin had been seen alive, but he still worried about him, just as he feared for his brother...again.

Speaking of getting intoxicated...That was a pasttime he and his wife Celeste shared quite often, because they both loved to drink. They even enjoyed the hangovers, which they cured with sex. O'Braugh had been gone for two days (she went to visit her daughters in the meantime) and already he missed her. It was a spreading ache, one he would never grow accustomed to. He had not felt it since he had lost his second wife Alli. Since their early days together, when Celeste was still recovering from her loss of Mascen, he had remained by her side, and she by his. His duties sometimes took him away, but she often had gone with him. O'Braugh often feared losing her. That was what the man who feared nothing feared most. Women were often strong men's greatest weaknesses. As he drank he thought how nice it would be to have her there with him. Occasionally he glanced towards the door, thinking perhaps she and her daughters would come to meet him there. He had helped to raise them when they had been young and become something of a second father figure to them. He always worries when she was not with him. He had no illusions about how dangerous the world was and the kinds of monsters lurking in it. She always assured him that she would be perfectly safe. O'Braugh knew better. Valis, whose wife Maria with one of their twins had vanished without a trace, knew better too. He knew there were even worse monsters out there than him. He grieved their absence still, always would. That was the kind of man Valis was. There was much about him to admire, which was why O'Braugh respected him.

Gala's face fell when O'Braugh told her about Eoghan's current state. "Poor Eoghan," She uttered softly. "I hope he's found, soon. I hope he'll be alright." She was distracted eventually by the comment regarding where her father lived. She frowned at him, apparently not appreciating the brow-raise. It made her all defensive! "Well, he's never given me a chance to visit him, is all. Because he's always visiting me. I've never had a cause to know." She looked at him as though she was challenging to remark on it. She knew it seemed odd, but she'd explained it away as yet another thing about her father that was rather eccentric. "Besides, maybe he brings lady friends there." She added. "It would be an inconvenience for me to come bursting in unannounced."

At some point, Raulin would finally reach the Inn. He paused inside the doorway, and took a look around, hands resting on his narrow hips. His gaze fell on Gala first...the way the light hit her hair was a little eyecatching. He was just on his way over when he realized who she was with, and it caused him to stop in his tracks for a few moments. He hadn't exactly expected to have any luck in his search tonight; he'd have been happy just having a whiskey and a bit of talk. If Gala managed to keep O'Braugh's attention as she spoke to him, Raulin would ever so stealthily creep up behind him, wrap his arms about his shoulders, and plant a loud, smacking kiss against his cheek! Otherwise, if he had been noticed, he would simply ensnare his father in a bearhug that near lifted him right out of his seat. Raulin had to look a great deal different to O'Braugh. His father had first gone missing even before he'd halted aging, so he looked a bit more like a man, rather than the youth his father might remember. And he'd let his hair grow hellish long...he liked it this length, because he couldn't be arsed to keep cutting it. His lips curled in an amused grin, and he jostled his father. "Is this where you've been hiding, then? Could've told me you were just stepping out for a drink!" He teased.

Eoghan had been seen in a very strange place...Staggering out of Lava Belly Mountain, as if from a cave mouth. An old woman gathering herbs, a healer, had tried to help him, but he had driven her away with an irrational violence. He did no harm to her, but like a wounded animal had made it clear he was not to be encountered safely. Unlike Eoghan, O'Braugh was not one to sink into his despair or to dwell on his worries, which is why being so in love was so hard for him. It was hard not to dwell on Celeste which was out of character for him. They were trying to have a child together, but thus far they had proven genetically incompatible. He could only produce children out of other darkstar, and that she was not. For all his power he had hoped to find a way, but it was fruitless. For three months Celeste had helped him search for his brother, but their failure to find him had taxed her. What O'Braugh hid so well from others, she felt and saw in him; his rage, his frustration; his despair, no matter how quiet it was. She almost resented Eoghan for making him suffer with the troubles he invariably tangled himself up in. Eoghan was too damn bold. O'Braugh had been to Ereme, only discovered there that he had gone in search of his wife, who has vanished from her home. He'd had nothing to go on until that woman had spotted him in the north. He was sure Eoghan would wind up at the Inn. He always did somehow. So he got himself a double room and planted himself here.

O'Braugh tensed, his gaze shifting back and forth as he was hugged from behind, hence his gaze dropped, almost sure now who it was when that kiss was planted on his cheek. When his son's voice filled his heart, he paled three shades to relief and the best kind of shock, and his lips parted with swooning thanks. He could only have been as thankful and happy if had been Eoghan. Indeed at first he thought it was Eoghan. His head turned to eye the son he had hoped for so long to find again, when the shadows had cleared from heart to let him remember those he loved beyond Celeste. He had prayed to the fates every day that he would see him safe and in good health again, and here he was, fit as a prize stallion. He was tickled that he had grown his hair so long...It touched O'Braugh's ego and his Irish pride that he was like him in any way. He drank him in with his eyes...Just drank him in from head to foot then stood and embraced him ardently. "Raulin...Thank providence you are safe." His voice wavered as it seldom did and he smacked his back then held him away to pierce him with his eyes. "I was told by the good lady here that you were looking for me. We have that in common. So much has happened...What a fine man you have grown into. Look at you. Where do I begin?"

LiftTheDarkness: Gala had blinked in surprise when Raulin had come up behind O'Braugh. He'd given her an impish grin as he greeted his father, and she'd practically melted at how adorable the reunion was. The relief on O'Braugh's face touched her heart a little. When his father stood to embrace him, Raulin gave him a hearty little thump on the back that might have suggested exactly how much excitement was pent up inside him at seeing his father again. "It's good to see you all in one piece. I was starting to wonder if you were out there at all." He informed him, and he tried for a chastising face, but it was ruined by the breath of pleased laughter that left him. He couldn't help laughing; it just bubbled up on the happiness at finally finding O'Braugh. He glanced at Gala when O'Braugh mentioned that he had passed on the message that he was looking for him. "Oh, she did, did she? And here I thought she didn't know you. How's the noggin, Miss Gala?" He teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him, though her eyes gleaned with amusement. He'd remembered that she said she couldn't recall knowing many people at all, and he had rightly assumed there'd been some memory loss involved. He grinned at his father again after he got finished ribbing Gala. "Have you missed me, then, old man?" He joshed, poking his ribs. He used the name in good fun...hell, if anyone was old, it was Raulin. Good thing he didn't look his age! "Listen, have you seen Eoghan? I've been keeping an eye out for him, as well. You're both elusive bastards, you know. Like searching for a bloody needle in a haystack."

If Eoghan had stood in O'Braugh's shoes he would have wept the tears of thanks which only misted O'Braugh's eyes. The happiest kind of smile lit up his face and he laughed cheerfully. Few saw the happy side of O'Braugh. He simply was not a man who gave in to his emotional impulses. He smacked his son's shoulder and shook him then pulled a chair out for him. He had forgotten about Galaxy just for the moment, until he saw his son seated and a tall pint of his favorite ale in front of him. "It is a night for stories! With any luck, Eoghan shall walk through that door as well, and both ruin the mood and move our hearts!" Anyone who really knew Eoghan would understand that jest.

Eoghan was not far from the Inn actually, only ten miles away, but it might as well have been a hundred. He was hunched up against a tree's trunk and roots, sobbing and beating his head against the bark. There were things in him, terrible things, he was trying to purge from himself, but he could not shake the vile things, the foul taste of them, the cold grip they had on his spirit and flesh. It had literally driven him mad. He was as dangerous as a rabid animal too; because he was so vulnerable, he would attack anything which moved towards him.

"Missed you?" O'Braugh repeated zealously after reflexively evading that poke with a quick jerk of his frame. It was instinctive to the old warrior. He relatiated with a playful shove which he promptly caught up in his son from before practically shoving him down in that chair he pulled out. "I have imagined the worst and hoped for the best. I have prayed and searched for you until I could bear the pain in my heart and head no more. Eoghan is...Has been through some terrible ordeal. I came here hoping he would come this way. There is no where else to look. He is between here and the Black Cavern Mountains, I am sure of it. He was seen exiting a cavern there. We're elusive? I was just saying the same of you and Eoghan. It vexes me...Some superior thinking deity ASS has hexed our senses is what. Why else can we gain no sense of one another?" O'Braugh plopped himself down next to his son and draped an arm around his shoulder. "Shall I have to beg you to come live with Celeste and I, or shall you continue to persue your wanderlust and drive me insane?" he asked with a wry sort of grin.

LiftTheDarkness: Gala watched the exchange between the men with a grin. They were too stinkin' cute! She bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh as she watched them poking and shoving at one another. Raulin sobered a little at the explanation regarding Eoghan's whereabouts, and then he announced, "He'll turn up. Don't you worry." He sounded pretty sure of that fact. He did crack a grin at the comment about their senses being hexed. "Well, that just means I can kick your ass at hide and seek, is what." Trust Raulin to turn that negative into an impish sort of positive. He still had that same old teasing sense of humour. His hand came to rest briefly on his father's arm as it draped over his shoulders. He seemed to need to keep touching him casually, as though to assure himself that he was actually there. "Wanderlust? And who's the one who set me to wandering, hmm?" He teased, grinning. "I've had enough wandering to last me a few centuries, I'd think. You've led me on quite the scavenger hunt. Glad I finally found you, though. That means I win the hunt!" Gala took it upon herself to pour Raulin a drink, and he thanked her in a way that was perhaps a little flirtatious. He couldn't help it; Raulin had long been a flirt with any lady folk that crossed his path, be they old or young. He was rewarded with a snort from Gala when he dropped a wink in her direction, but she looked vaguely pleased. It was flattering!

O'Braugh blew a long breath. His heart was still hammering in his chest with the excitement he evidently shared that he and his son had found each other. Now when O'Braugh said 'superior thinking deity ass' he meant Maelmorda of course, without actually naming names in case he was wrong. O'Braugh was not often wrong about things, but he tended to be wrong about Maelmorda when he suspected he was responsible for something, because he always suspected Maelmorda. He never had given in to his charms and had never allied himself with him. The more Raulin spoke the more O'Braugh realized he was like his father. It was easy for pride to turn to concern. He was relieved to hear that he'd had enough of exploration for the time being. "You lift my heart, dear lad," he lauded, giving Raulin's hand a squeeze. He smiled when Raulin congradulated himself for winning the steeple chase from hell. "A regular gauntlet it was. I concede to you as the victor." He bowed in knightly fashion to his son. When he straightened he embraced him again, and held him fast against himself. "I am sincerely happy to see you, Raulin. I have missed you. Forgive me for being lost to you for so long..." his contrition was intense and emotional. He had never wanted to be lost. Solbaid had taken a great deal from him and to see Raulin again was to gain a piece of his heart back. When he came away from him and Galaxy poured him a drink, he chuckled at the flirtation between them. If wishes could come true he would have wished them together as a couple, for both their sakes. He only smiled sort of sadly at the them both, the expression as close to sweet as one saw on O'Braugh. "I could use another knight, Raulin. The lads will be overjoyed to see thee again. I...I managed to bring them back...All of them." It was difficult to talk about. It had been a long and grueling ordeal to make it possible, as much for them as him. He'd had to challenge Tuatha itself, which was a peril few would ever dare face. It was like challenging Haman, or Hell. His gaze fell on Galaxy. "Ye could do no better than Raulin, Galaxy. A pity thy heart clings to a devil who shall only ever cause thee pain." He had sobered and gotten brutal on her just like that. His honesty was like that, uplifting when the truth was a breeze, and cutting when the truth was hard. "But ye have heard that song and dance all thy life, even from him. Thy heart is won't to listen. I wish ye had thy memory so ye could tell me why. Why do ye love the devil so?" Perhaps she was under a spell as well. He had wondered that before...If her love for him was a forgery. As Galaxy could only love him, O'Braugh could only distrust him. The things he had done to Eoghan...For so long. He would always despise him for it. His gaze returned to Raulin. "Ye still miss me?" he asked with an edge between sarcasm and humor. Had his son forgotten how harsh O'Braugh could be, all because he cared?

LiftTheDarkness: Raulin smiled at the squeeze to his hand. He looked a little surprised at the apology that came from his father. "I know you'd have come home if you could. Life happens like this. The important thing is that I've found you." He assured him gently...he could see that he truly felt sorry, and Raulin didn't feel that he should feel half that bad. It wasn't his father's fault, after all, that they were both such difficult men to track down. He hugged him back tightly, and patted his back. "A knight, hmm? That, I could be. Haven't had a cause to take up a sword in a while, honestly. I shall be glad to see everybody again...I've missed all of you. And I want to see this Celeste of yours." He grinned. He seemed to sense how reluctant his father was to talk about how he had managed to bring the others back, so he had changed the subject to one that he thought O'Braugh would enjoy a bit more. The smile had died on Gala's lips in response to O'Braugh's comment about exactly whom her heart clung to. She sat very still for a moment, and then she shrugged, and informed him quite seriously, "I wish I could tell you, too." She stood, then, and after a moment of indecision, informed them both that she needed a little bit of air. She even tacked a smile onto the end. And just like that, she was making her escape out onto the patio. Yes, it truly was an escape. She didn't know how to answer him, and the question almost felt accusing to her. She'd been so uncomfortable that she'd felt the need to distance herself for a few moments. Perhaps the question had been simple enough, but perhaps it was the simplicity of it that bothered her. She should have known, shouldn't she? She should have been able to tell him. She'd wander over to the edge of the patio, rubbing her forearm with her hand in a distracted manner. She was a little embarrassed that it had overwhelmed her enough that she had felt the need to make a getaway. Raulin, meanwhile, glanced away from the door she had disappeared through. "Aye, I still miss you. Even your piercing questions and unfortunate timing." He teased. "I think you scared her away." He wasn't chastising him for it. He had remembered exactly how harsh his father could be, and he knew it came from a good place.

JD: None of them knew it, but the reason they could not sense one another was indeed Maelmorda's fault. He had endowed them all, O'Braugh's entire clan, O'Braugh, Raulin, Niall, Eoghan, Aaron, himself, and Mascen among others, an immunity to being traced. They simply could not be sensed unless they proactively projected their presence. This made telepathy far more difficult, because though telepathy was a projection of thought, contacting an invisible target with it was rather problematic. Maelmorda had imunized them (one by one, over several ages actually, Eoghan the last) in such a way to protect them all against the Gods and their legions. He had forseen of the Alamscan, and Alamas and his legions moving against the dark star in the future. Perhaps the near future. The disadvantage to such an immunity was that they had to keep up communications to know where they could find each other. This too was all in Maelmorda's plans, to aid in strengthening their bonds and uniting them, for one who has to search for something, tends to hold onto it when it's found. So O'Braugh was right...Maelmoreda was responsible for them losing track of each other, but he had done so protect them.

"Well, a rusty sword hand can easily enough be cured son with instruction from the Unicorn Knights, hmm?" he smiled. "They are fomor demons, one and all, by the way, but they appear as they were when they were young...You will remember them." Each was cursed uniquely for their blessing of everlasting life. Nothing was free. "Celeste is...The queen of my heart. She loves leather," he laughed. "She is beautiful in a dress, but leather is who she is. Her hair...Oh her hair..." He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out long. "She unravels me...It is strange being in love. I cannot get used to it."

O'Braugh worried a pursed lip a bit when Galaxy gave what answer she could and then left. "Unfortunate indeed. Ye see...a woman who can put up with me is something very special. You will love Celeste, I have no doubt. I wonder at times though...If she ever got over her first husband. He is the sort a lass is naugh prone to falling out of love with..." He snapped out of that dent of whistful jealously and passed a smile to his son. "I did indeed scare her away. Perhaps ye, with thy gentler touch, should go talk to the lady. Ye have Eoghan's way about thee...His kindness. I never could...be altogether tender. I just don't have it in me." His men understood. He knew Raulin would. The truth was the truth and O'Braugh lived by it, for better or worse. Sometimes one had to face the hard ends of truth to make the best of life.

(23:55:54) LiftTheDarkness: Raulin's lips curled in an amused grin as his father spoke of Celeste. "Well, look at you. All mooning over a lady. It's a good look for you...love suits you quite well indeed." He grinned and teasingly nudged him with an elbow. He grinned. "Aye, well, you are a handful. But I think this Celeste is lucky anyway. She's chosen a fine man. Granted, I am biased. And listen, don't worry too much about previous husbands. Just because someone's made away with a bit of her heart doesn't mean she loves you any less. The important thing is that you're the one she's chosen to be with after everything." Now, when did Raulin get to be such a love guru? He blinked when his father suggested he go after her. "Oi, you're setting me up for trouble. What if she cries? I can't handle women's tears! They unravel me at the seams!" He looked horrified at the very idea. "You're perfectly capable of mustering up a little bit of kindness, and you know you are." He scolded him, mock waggling a finger at him. He was clearly just trying to avoid consoling what he thought might be a weeping woman. Gala was nowhere near that upset, but Raulin preferred to err on the side of caution! He knew his father had never been the most tender of sorts...but damned if he wanted to be tossed into trying to deal with this particular side of ladies! Finally, he sighed. "You really think I ought to? Surely she'll come back in when she feels a little better."

O'Braugh chortled as his son vied to squirm out of this most recent challenge he had put him up to. "Maybe I am hoping the lady will take a liking to thee and vice versa." He then screwed up his face and gave it a slap with his hand. "Maybe ye are right though. I am sure she will smooth her feathers and be content in a while. I mean, all I did was challenge her love for the devil, right?" his sarcasm smug. O'Braugh sat back down and poured himself and his son another drink, then lifted his glass. "Here is to us, may we stand fast together from this moment on. I have much to tell thee, but first, tell me about thy travels. Ye clearly made and survived the journey below...to my realm actually..." Raulin had indeed plunged into The Abandoned Underworld of Annwn. "I am so sorry I was naugh there to help thee through it. 'Tis there in my country the dark star fall...The caverns usually capture them. Seldom do I see travelers of death fall onto the surface. Solbaid...A Horned Demon, a Lich of vilest kind, cursed me and usurped my kingdom for many years...I lived under his rule without even being aware of it. I pray ye did naugh have to tangle with him..." Solbaid would have been ruler of that underworld when Raulin had made that journey. O'Braugh rubbed his face and polished off another glass of whiskey. He did not ask after Ashling, how she had died. Ashling, human as she was, would have died around 2000 years ago to Raulin's reckoning, and if she had somehow become immortal, been sired by a vampire or demon, he did not really want to know. She had only ever been a thorn and curse to him, and Eoghan. O'Braugh and Eoghan had lived that lifetime twice now. Neither of them cared to repeat that grade again. Killian had lived it thrice, and that was enough for him. Time was a fragile thing to revisit.

The old warlord was restless and it showed. "Feel like a ride, Raulin? A bit of a jaunt in the forest. Maybe we shall get lucky...This place is like a vortex to us...We always wind up here, even thee, who are new to the world. Unless ye aren't." O'Braugh still struggled with all the years he had lost to the shadow demon side he had finally rid himself of. It was an embodiment he would never wish to share his soul and body with again. He stood, and poured what whiskey was left in the bottle and drank it down. "If ye've no horse I have two spare, a fine pack animal and Celeste's black mare." He headed for the door. That was his way of saying, stay if you like but I am going.

Raulin smiled at his father spoke of how he lifted his heart, and he grinned at the thought of his father playing matchmaker. "And tie me down with a single lady? Perish the thought! I'll have you know, a specimen like myself must be shared among many." He was just teasing; he was a colossal flirt, but it was truly that he'd never encountered a person who'd captured his heart in quite the right way. Not that that had ever stopped him from seeking distractions of the feminine sort...he was just a man, after all! His face took on a thoughtful look at his father's smug comment about Gala. "I could imagine that it might be strange to be challenged in that way, and not being able to find the answer. I imagine she feels as though it's something she ought to know. I wonder if perhaps she isn't upset, but more embarrassed." Raulin was just hazarding a guess at the lady's feelings. Hell if he actually knew what they were, but he was just trying to see things from her perspective. "Whatever it is, I think perhaps we ought to leave her be for a little while." He would lift his glass with his father at the little toast, a grin forming once more on his lips. He nodded at the comment about him surviving the journey below. "I did survive it. But don't you worry, I didn't need you to hold my hand through it. I like to think that it helped me grow a little bit, that you weren't there." It would have been nice to have him there, but the truth was that Raulin had been forced to be independant during his childhood, and it had become second nature to him. His mother had never been especially healthy after all, so it had been Raulin who took a great weight on his shoulders caring for her until she finally passed. He'd continue to tell him about the interesting bits of his travels, quite animated in the telling of it and his accompanying gestures. Raulin was a good storyteller, and he made sure to coax a few laughs out of his father during the telling. He was, in some strange way, relieved that his father didn't ask after Ashling. Ashling had actually still been living when he left her company...it had been she who'd finally chased him off on his journey, because even she could see that limiting himself to searching for his father in places they knew was chafing at him. She had been able to see that he needed to search further, and for whatever reason, she had decided he needed to do it alone. Raulin had never believed it would take so very long...he'd underestimated the time it would need, and he had promised her that when he returned, it would be with his father. Except, he hadn't ever found him, so he hadn't returned. In a way, he thought it might have been better that way. She had been content when he left, at least. She seemed to have accepted better than him that his father was lost to them. Raulin hadn't been able to believe it. He supposed she would be dead by now, and the thought did sadden him a little, even now. Despite the curse she had been to his father, Raulin had been fond of her.

When his story trailed to a close and his father suggested they go for a ride, Raulin smiled. Oh, he could see his father was restless. It was a trait that they shared, actually...too long in one place, with a loved one missing, and it tended to put you on edge. He reached and gripped his father's shoulder before standing. "Let's be off, then. It's been too long since we've ridden together." He informed him easily. He'd duck his head out the patio door briefly to inform Gala where they were going...he thought it would be rude just to run off without her. She'd nodded and cautioned him to be safe...it had come out automatically, and she wondered if that was the result of some kind of maternal instinct that her body remembered, even if her mind didn't. He'd trot to catch up to his father as he headed to the door, linking arms with him and grinning at him. "I don't have a horse of my own, so I would be pleased to borrow one. Had one for a while, but I retired the poor beast, and never got around to replacing it. Been hoofing it on my own for the longest time." He informed him as they moved to where the horses were stabled.

The King of Morgal arched a brow when his son caught up to him and related how it was he had no horse. "A Connemara man that long without a horse? Tsk, tsk, lad. That is hardly acceptable and shall be remedied forthwith. Ye shall choose from my stock, me boy." he smiled and patted his son's back firmly. It was not long before they were mounted and riding north into the woods. If Raulin had chosen Celeste's mare she was a tall warmblood mare, sleek and swift; while if he had chosen the pack horse, the gelding was a large draft horse of coffee colour with striking dapples and a blonde mane and hoof skirts, a beautiful horse in fact, a demon horse in fact. The animal was trained for combat and had the fighting spirit of a mustang. O'Braugh liked to protect his supplies and on long journeys, the strong box of gold he might carry. O'Braugh had decided to follow crator Ridge trail as far north as it went and then cut into the woods from there. Perhaps on the return rout they would explore the remainder of the trail east and southward again, then west back to the Inn. The two would pass right through Valis Urik's palace of shadows without ever even knowing it, but for the sense O'Braugh got that they were being watched. That would be Valis's son Ivan and several guards who watched them lapse by like phantoms on the edge of the shadows the palace was sunken into beyond sight.

Past History of O'Braugh
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