The great walls of the stronghold, the massive gate, now so lonely, except for the sole sandstorm that crossed the field, seemingly hunting a man clad in stained clothes, a coat that was to keep him from the suns warmth, but then again, it was but a normal coat, one not designed for anything but wearing. He soon crashed into the wall, a bit slow to react in this warm and sandy position, he noticed the way into some kind of stronghold, he didn't know there was anything like this, even less did he count on it to be a place so desolated. There were no such thing as guards on the walls, or any torches alight for people living here, trying to escape the sandstorms. But little did that truly matter, for now it was he whom sought shelter in this place.

He quickly found his way into some kind of roofed place, he didn't see anything out there, all he saw was the door he had just opened and the room ahead of him which he was now standing in. He quickly shut the door behind him and sat down on a chair, removing the hood and looking at the walls, they were all metallic and inside this room there seemed to be a lot of crates and a device to move them with a crane somehow, levers and structures, crates and chairs. hose were all the things inside this structure, he didn't see any door that could move on to another room. From his point of view this was only a storehouse of a small kind, maybe about twenty people would fit in here if they laid down on the floor.

He took of the coat and put it down next to the grey chair he sat on, he put his hands on his knees and sighed out loudly, he would have to stay here for quite a while before moving on towards the end of this desert, why had he stepped foot here in the first place. There was another thing though, this room, this storehouse was very, very warm, however, the walls outside were of wood, which would make the metal inside a bit less warmer. But now all he could do was wait, wait and sweat.

Anya wandered in the hot desert. It was a strange reason that she was here, although she couldn't even remember why, and how she came to be in this place. She had no memory of what happened the week before. All she knew was that she was stuck in this endless desert, and it was beginning to be quite a bore.

Her long cloak whipped around her small delicate body as a hint of a sandstorm passed through the area and Anya rolled her eyes. She was used to these passing sandstorms in this time of the afternoon, whoever knew it. She learn't how to avoid them: just hide by a dune and dig your way out afterwards. Anya looked around her to see that there where no dunes around her, just a huge door about two hundred meters away.

Anya blinked in surprise at the fact that she walked for the whole day and did not notice the door in front of her. Maybe it's just a mirage or a dream. Yes, maybe I'm sleeping... she thought to herself. She walked straight towards the door, keeping her head down so the sand could not get into her eyes.

Suddenly, Anya bashed into something that felt like wood and she fell unceremoniously into the sand. As she spat sand salts out of her mouth, she looked up. There was that same giant door, or gate rather, that Anya had seen not so far from where she sat, flanked by thick, strong walls. It looked empty and desolate, almost haunted. So, it's not a mirage, I guess, she thought to herself. She looked behind her to see the sandstorm gathering momentum and in a few minutes it would hit the giant building that stood behind the gate.

Anya pushed the door open to find a small room with metal as walls, making the room cooler than outside. Relieved, Anya shut the door behind her. As she examined the room closer, she saw a man sitting in a grey chair, with his hands on his knees and his cloak underneath him. Anya took off her own cloak and dropped it on the floor to reveal a sort-sleeved dress underneath. She sat near the man and said, "Is everything alright?"

Atra had been lost in thought, wether or not the sandstorm would hit through the metallic walls somehow, but he doubted it, the walls seemingly went through the floor (Which was still to be determined of what material it was.) and down further into the ground, maybe he was actually sitting in a square of some kind, that was when he noticed someone was sitting next to him, to think, he had been so lost in his own stained mind that he had not even noticed someone entering.

He took of his hands from his knees and looked up at her close to him. Just whn he was about to open his mouth, he heard a loud crashing noise outside, and before he could think of an explanation to why it had come, he flew up from his chair and smashed into the wall, the noise of him hitting the wall was nothing compared to the solid rock scraping the outside wood, at least that was how he heard it. He could feel they were falling, and the wall he now lay on was the one faced downwards, the whole square storehouse was falling down, but how could that be, all that was here was sand.

He came to think of the other person that had entered and tried to turn his head around to perhaps catch a glimpse of her. But there was no-one there, that was when he noticed this was but a wake-dream that he had encountered before, after all, his mind was not completely sane. He woke up from it, and finally opened his mouth to speak with her. "I'm fine, however, it seems we will be sharing this place, storehous, or whatever it is, untill the sandstorm is gone." With this said he looked up from his sitting position to notice how she really looked. A person that indeed looked kind, but then again, maybe she just looked like that.

The stranger looked up from his thoughts. His eyes were black. No, red. Anya couldn't really place what colour they were. It was like they were conflicting with themselves... Strange... "I'm fine, however, it seems we will be sharing this place, storehous, or whatever it is, untill the sandstorm is gone," said the stranger. The stranger had long black hair, and looked human. But there was just something about him that was wrong. Something not normal.

That was one other thing Anya noticed about this world. Nobody was normal. Heck, she wasn't even. She was comfortable in this world and hence she was comfortable around the stranger, despite his conflicting eyes. "I'm Anya," said Anya, sticking her long, slender hand to greet the stranger now that she realised he was fine.

He had hid his hands until now, inside the long arms of his shirt, but since the stranger had raised her hand in a fashion of greeting, what else could he do but show the dark hands he possessed, those that had been with to many dark things, those stained with the black blood of many fallen men. He took them out, showing the black stains smashed over his both hands and over pieces of his lower arm. Now he turned his eyes away from his hands, and straight at her, his eyes seemingly looking through the whole of her, through her soul. "You shouldn't shake a hand still stained with scorched blood, it would just... endanger your psych." He said with an almost whispering tone, as if someone was listening at them, someone in the dark.

Surprisingly, really that he had changed his normal tone into this whispering one by the mere presence of his stained hands, now he knew what she was, a person that was actually quite the warrior, at least one that could take care of herself. Perhaps this stay could provide useful for them both, or at least for him, now he had someone to talk to while he waited for the sandstorm to begone from this vast desert.

He leaned back on the chair and turned around his head, trying to find some kind of table or anything to do until he sandstorm was gone, and he saw something, a table it was indeed, scorched on one of the corners but otherwise in a good shape, it was metallic of course. that last piece of metal equipment had made him wonder if they were in some kind of protection facility for a situation like this, but shouldn't there have been people in here if that was the case? But then again, maybe there had been people in here...

Anya noticed the stranger stick his hand out from underneath his sleeve. They were dark, as if they have been stained by something. Now this man really wasn't normal thought Anya to herself. As she extended his hand further out of his sleeve, she saw that there was more stains on his fore arm. The rest of the arm was normal... Like her skin.

"You shouldn't shake a hand still stained with scorched blood, it would just... endanger your psych," said the stranger. He whispered in a husky tone. Was that his real voice? she asked herself. Her curiousity was insatiable and she wanted to know more about this stranger.

The fact was that the stranger was less normal than everybody else. She felt the same way, some how. She was shunned as a human or elf because of her parents, although wanted to be a human, despite the Elven Queen's pleas. She watched the stranger carefully as he cast his eyes around the room, as though looking for something. Who are you?

He stood up now, and stretched for the table next to him, he was not weak in strength and could easily move it so that they both had the table in front of them, after he had done this he decided to sit down, not until now had he noticed the letter that lay on the table, it seemed to be of some other language, not of the normal human one. However, this language was not completely astrange to him, he could remember some patterns and alike, it was definitely elven, however, there were many different elven languages, but one of that origin should probably be able to notice the most of what it said. The text itself however was poorly written and with many flaws, the paper it stood on was old and scorched on a corner, the same corner as tat of the table.

Now came the question, perhaps something vital was said in this letter, and he knew the young woman in front of him was elven, at least partially. When you spend a lot of time with people of different races, you learn to see them amongst other people, even if that was on the battlefield. However, he decided not to ask her to read the note and pretended to not even have payed much mind to it, since, he had really merely taken a glance on it to understand all that.

Now he just sat there, silent for a while before opening his mouth, now his voice was back in the first tone, "I didn't quite catch your name, stranger." He said, trying to persuade her to tell him her name, but perhaps it was doomed to fail. It didn't really matter to him what her name was, but perhaps it would make a bind of trust, even as thin as it may become, it was useful.

Anya watched patiently as the stranger reached for the table nearby and put it between the two of them. She saw a letter on the table opened up. It was in a bad state, tattered at the corners, like someone was reading it over and over again. She looked closer at the letter and saw that the writings on the letter were familiar, yet not.

"I didn't quite catch your name, stranger," said the human after a while. Anya looked up and blinked.
"My name is Anya," she said softly, almost shyly. She picked up the letter and quickly read through it. "This is Elven," she murmured. Words passed through her lips, like the sandstorm outside. Eventually, she set it down. "Is this yours?" she asked carefully, "because it's in very bad Elven and not even an ignorant like I would even write that. No offense meant, sir."

He laughed, it had indeed been far to long since the last time, but now he did it again, even if it was just a slight chuckle. He looked at her face and noticed she really thought he may have written it. "Oh, no, I didn't write that, I don't even speak nor do I write elven languages, of course, I can recognise it, but much less understand it, Anya. But how rude I am, my name is Atra, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you, even in these....circumstances." He said, but the note, that thing kept on and on making him more wondering.

Now he had to stretch out a bit to observe it a slight bit closer, that was when he noticed the tiny signature on the bottom, it wasn't even finished, it was jst halfly made, like a name not supposed to be a name. All that stood on that note now were the following letters: 'A'kle' then there were no more there. "Do you know what it says?" he asked, hoping to find out more about why this place was here, or what it was, and maybe even why it existed at all.

He lowered himself back on the chair, looking out over the room again. Perhaps there was something they were missing, or more likely something he was missing, after all, he seemed to be the only one feeling like uncovering why this structure was here, and why the metallic walls were, and then it striked him, what the boxes contained...

The strong desert wind showed no mercy, even for the weary. The hooded figure treaded slowly, large imprints showing where he had been. The sandstorm was fierce and relentless, and severely inhibited mobility. Placing one hand on his forehead, he cupped it forming a makeshift cover for his eyes. Visibility was worse than poor in the sandstorm. Not even a single mirage made itself known to the figure, hope dwindling every step. He turned back to check his previous trail, and found nothing. Only the endless expanse of the desert greeted him, like a bittersweet taste that most could do without. Not giving up on traveling, the figure urged on, against the will of nature.

His heavy imprints grew lighter with each step, the speed of the current picking up. Sand continually pelted his clean clothing, fading the colors of his garbs. Specks of dirt and dust crept in through his armor, a new gift he recieved from an old associate. The armor was strong and durable, but lightly inhibited his speed. The cold steel of black faded into a dull gray, a color that somehow became the consistent hue with his clothing. The sand ruffled his hair and faded his clothing, little frustrations that simply brought nothing but hopelessness and sadness. He trudged on, until a light feeling overcame him.

The wind grew stronger, and after lifting a foot to move onwards, carried the figure along. The strong current drove him hard towards a single direction, with force unmatched like no other. The figure grew light headed and dizzy, as the weightless feeling was something he was not accustomed to. The distance traveled could not be confirmed, only that it drove him somewhere. Then suddenly, shock.

A large came as the wind forced the figure onto a solid wall, the armor receiving the blow as the figure crashed down onto the sand. A little dazed, the figure picked himself up, using the wall as support. He placed his hand firmly against the wall, until he heard a small creak. A different feel greeted him through an opening, which he took at the first moment. Squeezing himself in, he closed the door behind him and let out a small sigh. He was in a room of sorts, with crates and walls that gave the impression of durability and storage. How a building could be found inside was strange, but convenient for him. It was a haven for the figure, which he accepted without question.

Panning the room, he found to individuals seated. Both had different features, and moved differently. There was a female whose features resembled his, despite their distant lineage. The other figure was male, but with a distinct difference with him. Whatever the case was, the ruckus he made must have caught their attention. Turning his head towards their direction, he greeted them with a complacent tone, "Strange to see people around this parts. What is going on here?" Resting his back against the door, he let out a small sigh, and awaited their reply.

The figure chuckled, and Anya thought it was sometime since he last laugh. All that blood on his hands... She shivered at the thought of all those people dying at his hand. She mentaly shook herself as she found that the figure now spoke.
"Oh, no, I didn't write that, I don't even speak nor do I write elven languages, of course, I can recognise it, but much less understand it, Anya. But how rude I am, my name is Atra, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you, even in these....circumstances."

So... The figures name was Atra, thought Anya. Funny name, that. She never heard of these names before, but then again, this wasn't a normal person. "Do you know what it says?" Atra asked her, when he picked up the letter and tried to read it. Anya looked at Atra soberly and said, "Alas, I cannot. I know how to speak the language, and I can see that this language is Elven but I cannot read it. I'm very sorry, Atra."

Anya then heard a loud bang and the door opened to a gust of wind, sand, and another figure. By the look of it, he was very weary and could not face the giant sandstorm. The loud bang also revealed the fact that the figure, too, had bumped into the wall, thinking it was a mirage. She smiled inwardly. It happens, she thought quietly.

"Strange to see people around this parts. What is going on here?" said the figure, is back resting gently on the door. Anya stood up and said, "It is strange to see you too, stranger." Her voice rang throughout the room like a clear bell. "I have just arrived and found ,my.... uh..." she looked up to the ceiling carefully to find the right word... "My companion here." She hoped that was the right wording... What if he took it wrong?
Anya shook herself once more and slumped in her seat. She drew a chair next to her and said, "Sit down stranger, so that my... uh, companion here can tell you what's happening."

Atra was surely astonished by the fact that this person sitting here, didn't know what to call him, but little did it truly matter, he knew he was intimidating, perhaps he had already scared her, well, if he had, there was little chance she would be engaged in finding out what happened to the people here. However, now there was yet another person here, someone that possibly could read the note, but then again, there had been little luck so far. All there had been was coincidence, or was it...?

"Welcome stranger have you come from the sandstorm perhaps? To seek shelter from its strange pattern? Indeed it did not follow the wind as they usually do... But perhaps you didn't notice." He said, not ready to tell his name, as, perhaps, this person was one of a group, a group of fanatic 'avengers' for the fallen time ago. If so, he would have trouble, fighting in this little room wasn't really what he wished for. He didn't wish to fight at all.

Now was the time to ask for his name, just after his acquaintance here had put a forth a chair for him to sit on and await the sandstorm's end. "What is your name then? Don't worry, I'm not after anyone, however, I cannot speak of her, but I doubt such." He said and made a quick move of sight on her so that the stranger would understand what 'she' he was talking about, even if he would probably notice it anyway.

As Anya sat down, Atra said, "Welcome stranger have you come from the sandstorm perhaps? To seek shelter from its strange pattern? Indeed it did not follow the wind as they usually do... But perhaps you didn't notice." Anya cast an appraising look to Atra's direction. The desert did have sandstorms every day almost, but she hadn't noticed it was a pattern. She did not keep track of time while she was in the desert. Then again, she never does.

"What is your name then? Don't worry, I'm not after anyone, however, I cannot speak of her, but I doubt such," said Atra again and he quickly looked at Anya to indicate he was talking about her. Anya crossed her arms over her bosom. "I do have a name, you know," she said with a reproachful look at Atra. She just told him her name... twice! Why did he not apply the name, like normal, respectable people? She let out a huge sigh and clucked her tounge, sulking in her chair, and hoping somebody would notice.

His initial impressions of the two companions through the sandstorm were quite good. The man who greeted him seemed open enough for company, but didn't share his name. "Welcome stranger have you come from the sandstorm perhaps? To seek shelter from its strange pattern? Indeed it did not follow the wind as they usually do... But perhaps you didn't notice." These were the words that welcomed him into the haven which he considered the building to be, if it were not meant for that purpose.

The man continued, providing further light to his nature. "What is your name then? Don't worry, I'm not after anyone, however, I cannot speak of her, but I doubt such." Sanzen was reluctant in revealing any information about him, but for now since circumstances force otherwise, he would have to accomodate the questions of the two, and address the nature of the structure for which they apparently sought sanctuary. A light smile came form his face, as he saw the other companion, the girl sulk in her chair. Apparently she assumed the question directed at her, and laughed inside at the irony.

Responding to his question, Sanzen faced him, hands at his sides, slightly loose but with fingers still holding to his weapons. In a low tone he replied, "I am Sanzen, Watcher of the Blades. I chance upon this structure by chance, narrowly escaping the sandstorm," one hand rubbing the small of his back, the pain from before. Continuing in the same tone, "I noticed the strange wind that brought me here, and sought refuge here. I do not wish to make trouble, seeming just to pass by." Hopefully he would place their fears at rest, and get back to more important matters, like that note which seemed to be at the table.

Anya sat with her back to Atra, therefore full facing the stranger. He answered the greeting, yet did not notice Anya sulking in her grey, cold chair. She mentally shook herself and thought, Stop being so childish, girl. Get a hold of yourself!Unfolding her arms, Anya listened intently as the new stranger introduced himself.
"I am Sanzen, Watcher of the Blades. I chance upon this structure by chance, narrowly escaping the sandstorm," said the stranger. Anya had the feeling that he knew him from somewhere. The face... Images blurred in her mind...

"I noticed the strange wind that brought me here, and sought refuge here. I do not wish to make trouble, seeming just to pass by," Sanzen continued. Anya's eyes rested on his hands, who were grasped tightly over his weapons the sat on his belt.
She stood up and touched Sanzen's hand softly. "You don't have to use weapons here. Knowing we are only strangers, we do not need to fight," she said quietly and respectively. Her thoughts turned to his face as she examined his face, now that she was closer to him. His eyes were red, but not as conflicting as Atra's. They were strong and Anya could not look at them for long.
She instead looked up defiantly and noticed the stranger's hair was red and spiky. It partially covered his eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost handsome look. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a big, black, hairy spider that sat above Sanzen.

Memories... "Sanzen?! It's Anya here!!!! The spider caves?" said Anya suddenly, glancing at his eyes, hoping that she would find just a flicker of recognision...

With such strange matters as reunion, or maybe, possible reunion he had nothing to do, as he, if no one else, waited no one for reunion, that he knew, that he had made sure off. He tried to take his mind off the two but it was a mistake, now his old thoughts came back once again, this time however giant leeches flew out from the crates and lingered over the floor, leaving blood red marks on the floor. They approached him, standing alone in a corner and they started swallowing his legs and arms whole, it was not long until they began chewing on his head, swallowing his face.

Now all he saw was a black light in the end of a white corridor, a strange thing indeed, you would have thought a tunnel would shine with a fine white light at the end, but then again, this was a corridor, or was it? Melting rocks floated down the sides and before not to long, Atra was once again engulfed by darkness. And so he snapped back to reality.

Now back he decided to leave his chair and drag one of the many crates next to the room's table. He wouldn't open it just yet of course... But he might as well have it available from after the note had been dechipered. "By the way, do you speak Elven?" Was his last action, speaking, before he returned to his chair and observed the strange claw marks on the crates sides.

The girl approached him, placing her hand on his. "You don't have to use weapons here. Knowing we are only strangers, we do not need to fight," were her words, projecting them in a respectful voice. He himself did not make the assumption, but past experiences taught him otherwise. Had they known what he was and had they been biased enough, no more formal greetings would follow, only the clash of steel. He placed his hands back at his sides, but laid back a little. He gazed at the girl, whose eyes were examining his face. Something about her features intrigued him, but he could not place it anywhere. Maybe future events could reveal who she was.

Just then, the girl spoke abruptly. "Sanzen?! It's Anya here!!!! The spider caves?" were her words, and like a flash of light he was dazed. She did seem familiar, as it was he that stood over her when she was frail. The events that proceeded were cloudy and unsure, but now he did recognize her. "Anya." he spoke, as if repeating her words. With a slight smile on his he affirmed her presence, and returned to matters at hand.

The other figure whose name seemed to elude him once more asked, "By the way, do you speak Elven?" He returned to his chair, and examined something on the crates. With a blank and cold tone, Sanzen replied, "No, I don't. I've never learned the language, despite what my appearance might say otherwise." He approached the man from behind, and leaned over to see what he was inspecting. Claw marks. They formed rough but deep cuts on the side of the crates. The damage done to the crate was slight but quite new, probably done just less than a day from when they are now. The creature that made the mark was something familiar to Sanzen, but he had to be sure. The figure looked around the room once more, inspecting the other crates.

Not all the crates had similar marks. Some were untouched and had cobwebs growing on them, others had dents and bulges. Other crates had similar scratches, but most of these were found in one general area. Something happened here, and if it endagers them even in the slightest, it had to be cleared. Just as Sanzen made his way back to the group, a strange flicker caught his eye. He turned to see the end of a wall, and a little piece that faintly glows in the light. He made his way closer to the object, and plucked it out of its confines. It was a scale, hard as rock. The suspicions Sanzen had were slightly confirmed, but the results of his findings he would leave for later. He pocketed the scale, and returned to the group wearing a calm face.