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Off into the night, the dwarf wanders trying to fight sleep. His dreams are a chaos of blood, bones, and evil. He dreams of being someone else.. he is taller, hugely muscled, though lacking the dwarven strength he posses in waking. He feels he has no control, he can only watch as the being through which he is seeing, cuts down men like nothing. How he relishes in the warrior's fear as he fights them. This is no simple barbarian raiding and killing women and children, this man.. or demon lived to fight other warriors, to test his strength against theirs and to kill them instilling fear and pain. The very kind of warrior Vern had grown to despise.

Bragon set this upon him for a reason, what was it? Was this maybe a trick? Surely Bragon would not set a curse upon him. "Choices... You are given another chance, What will you do with it, **********?" The name.. it was slurred so much the dwarf couldn't understand. Was this warring pressure within him another spirit? Why was he "given another chance?" Are these dreams his memories? What if this was some trick played by a witch or even Nargun? Maybe it wasn't Bragon who set this warring spirit but some other sinister forces. He knew not where to turn, who could he tell these things without being branded a madman or cursed?

"lord Bragon... Guide me." and to that he fell asleep. But this dream was different. He roamed in a dreadfully bleak plain, only a pitch darkness on all sides threatening to suffocate him. Vern roamed aimlessly in the dark and strange land, hearing strange noises and even screams in the distance. After much time he finally saw a light, from which the darkness seem to flee, a solitary flame. "Lord! ye have come te me in dreams te guide me!" the answering voice sounded sad " I cannot help you, Vern. You must do this on your own. This is your test. The..." the flame flickers only briefly and the dark swirls around like a vicious wind trying so hard to extinguish the fire. An incredible feeling of dread overwhelms Vern, a breaks down, falling to his knees as he watches the fire struggle against the chaotic darkness. "YOU SHALL NOT BALK ME" a powerful and menacing voice seeming far away yet all around. A short burst of power a flash of light and the small flame regains its previous form. "This is both your's and his.. your tests. And in this I cannot help you. But be warned, you will be assailed by forces of darkness anywhere you roam or hide, you cannot run from it, you must fight it.. or be conquered. This.. is your story Vern..." and with that the flame suddenly extinguished and the darkness rushed in like a wave threatening insanity. And he awoke to the birds chirping, he was laying at the foot of the altar of the five, north of Galmair. He rose looking around he set off, looking for a purpose.

Vern heads to the Training of the Bearers of fire in the hopes of voicing his plight to them. Yet even being before them he feared he could not tell them. So many people of the land talked of the Bearer's fanaticism and their like of stakes and bon-fires. He couldn't risk it.

As he left Runewick a voice called so sweetly... "Find it... Find it, as you said you would. Bring it before me!" His felt his insides churn in chaos, the.. other side was raging with a confusion that threatened Vern's own mind. "NO!" His mind screamed, the mental shout was so strong it made his head hurt. "I kills you, and ebryting else, jus leab meh lone!! You nub boss ob meh no mores!" Staggering through the portal onto the Runewick farmlands Vern's vomits all over, looking worriedly about he runs off over the bridge...

Heading to Galmair Vern hopes for a drink and maybe a trade. But as he enters the market he sees Ally feeling that all too familiar tug of the other trying to get out. "Oh Greetings Vern" Ally Says, and a man with his back turned replies, "Vern..." He turns around revealing an obviously unhappy Leon Demelii. Gina comes by and some normal conversation goes on, Vern felt as if he could barely focus. The tug in his mind and body was wrenching, attempting wrest free and take control. And all the while there was Leon.. spewing his insults. He'd take this no longer, perhaps the familiar swing of a sword would help him get control of himself, and maybe if he beat his former captain, he'd let Vern be. "sure.. I'll spar, but with him" points to Leon. A bunch of low mutters and grumbles and the two warriors went out to the fields to fight. It seemed that the wrenching feeling was getting steadily worse and he could hear the other saying "Let meh outs! Stoopid stumpeh, lets meh out damn yous!" He stood opposite of leon drawing his longsword and standing firm. and then the fight began.. it was all a blur Vern barely controlled the fight at all.. it was the other. He batted away the man's strikes and pushed forward but Vern tried to gain control back over his body, what if the other tried to kill the man he was fighting? What if.. he tried to kill all the bystanders as well? A hoarse shout came from Vern's own lips, "Let meh outs STOOPID STUMPEH!!" And the dwarf stumbled back vomiting and quickly taking off his helmet as he did, still getting some of the disgusting bile in it. Regained controll.. but.. Vern looks up to everyone looking strangely at him. "I've.. Been ill, like I said before..." Leon retorts "that wasn't Ill...what the hell was that?" Allesaina, Gina, and even Brawndara had a bewildered expression. Shit.. Vern thought, now I'm in for it. "Come Here dwarf.." Leon says, and the dwarf reluctantly follows. some talking, he barely understood again. The. Other. Was. Coming. and doubling over in pain Vern fell into a void as the other spirit within him took control.

With a slight snickering she feeded the raven a little piece of dry rabbit meat, muttering : "Good girl...", the raven clattered with it's beak and evoked a awkward sounding "Gawk?", then hopped from her arm flying away. For a moment her narrowed eyes followed the loud pushes of the ravens wings, who flow a generous circle over her before leaving into the direction of the Lonley Mountains. The dwarf she met recently gave her an awkward feeling. Usually it took her months to create some kind of a caring emotion for somone. Most people was ment to be used... some like a tool, some like a toy. Well she used also the ones she cared about, but it wasn't insignificant how it turned out for them. Friends are rare goods she thought, she couldn't effort to let them disapear because of a stuipid choice or thing she made. However, the dwarf wasn't her friend at all. But when she saw him suffering, she couldn't stay calm. After a while of hasitation. she followed him heading to the temple in wilderland. Throught the Darkness of night her eyes found him, fitful sleeping and turning around from time to time. She climbed a tree, her thrird eye desired to watch...

After minutes she recognized there was a raven all along next to her sitting beak shutted in the shadow of a branch. It's glance on her, since she arrived. A look of reproach now, she wasn't ment to be such focused, failing to recognize most of the surroundings. But well, the wilderness was never a place she really felt born within it. Altough the Raven hopped closer and evoked a kind of "Craw!", she categorized as a greetings call. She leaned closer and begun to whisper to the bird, who stayed calm until she finsihed. Then she, it was a female she recognized left it's branch landing close to the resting dwarf, where she started to sing, loud and annoying like ravens are used to do it. Of'course it it didn't take long until the dwarf woke up. "Not yet", she thought and leant into the shadows of the branches above her...

Of late Vern seems to have become Anti-social, those with a good relationship with him can percieve a change at times, as if he is someone else and seems utterly confused and almost paranoid.

"He always comes back fer his servants.. he always comes back, We been bad, this is bad, Big fire we need help."

Nagging whispers in the dark, insomnia.. a sense of hopelessness and confusion floods Vern. Who was he? The orc, or Vern? Their thoughts and memories intertwining becoming a chaotic mess. Everything so twisted they forgot who did what and sometimes even their own morals and values disappear altogether to be replaced by something new again. Every day this curse lay upon them, or.. Him. They were slowly.. ever so slowly becoming something different entirely, not individuals but one person, one soul. The two souls knew true fear for the first time, a debilitating, paralyzing fear that they were dying, not of the body but of the soul, and in this death they were giving birth to something alien.

And... still more whispers in the dark caressing the feeble mind of the dwarf.

It was the only thing real to him anymore.. He could put on the fake facade of normality but it was all just just a game we play, the game of life. The only thing that kept his sanity was a fight, roaming in the woods he'd encounter bandits and slay them without mercy, leaving their belongings, he had no want for riches anymore. He wanted blood.

"you took it all from me.. everything, my beliefs, those I cared for.. my life. For this you must be punished, you who commit atrocities under a false banner." His purpose was clear, he was dead set on obtaining what he desired most, the blood of his enemy. Before his soul died he will fight for a loss worth fighting for, he will fight for that ray of moonlight they stole from him. From us.

In a remote spot after killing a dozen elves in the labyrinth he wrote on a parchment, lacking ink he decided to write in the elve's blood.

There is no compromise
No piped lament to stay the blind
Just the shrike cacophony of war

Defeated... He looked for the one claiming to be overlord. His first thoughts were that maybe he could join them.. then when the time was opportune.. he could destroy them utterly. No.. this was weakness and he would show them, show them that he had no need to resort to such to destroy their insignificant cult.

After a brief conversation with Caldarion he decided to head to the Hemp necktie Inn which Uhuru, Evie and another strange man were by the fire. He didn't know who the man was but maybe Evie or Uhuru knew what this Overlord looked like... "Greetings dwarf.." Looking over at the man whose voice was deep and took a commanding tone. "The Bearers are coming.. so choose your side." The Bearers? Why would the Bearers be coming.. unless- "So that means.."
Flexing slightly thinking about going for the assault right away. if he caught them off guard he could beat all three of them. He didn't know why Evie or Uhuru were there, maybe they were bewitched. "Come Vern, He's been calling you." Uhuru says. At which Evie looks at her sister bewildered. "what's going on?" Vern looks the dark skinned man in the eyes "Feck sides, I'm goin te be tha one te kill you." "Is that what Bartimaeus would want?" His heart sank. No.. dammit how did she know? Wait.. she knew nothing. He was as much Bartimaeus as he was Vern now. "You know? Well then I suppose I'll have to tie up some loose ends..." Uhuru turns to the man who must be this Kahramesz "We need him" He nods, "The lord is close with him." A deep set anger builds in him. "You know why you need me?" They both look to him. "Because you're WEAK! And he charges them drawing his hammer. The dark skinned man throws bombs at him quickly as Vern bats one aside and it explodes into the ground next to him, the next one hits him and he grunts he reaches the man one of his bombs slips and explodes next to the both of them Still hit by the blast Vern attacks as hard as he can. The man fell quickly and Uhuru then began her attack with a large drow sword. Barely recovering from the blasts and trying to switch to his spear and avoid her attacks he barely manages to defeat her as well. "well damn" Evie walks away disgusted, "If cherga keeps you, by the gods I'll tear you back here and make you regret it sister"
The wounded Kahramesz looks with disdain at Vern, "you have sealed your fate" He grins, "give me a reason why I shouldn't kill ye scum."-"You attacked me as I was unarmed" Vern Laughs, "Wot has that ever meant te tha likes of ye?" The man scowls "I thought you had honor" He smirks, honor truly meant nothing to him anymore, it was the fight that kept him alive. And his vengeance..but the fight.. he had only one more healing potion and a warrior's potion.. could he do it? It was a gamble he knew, Uhuru and this Kahramesz both well equipped and certainly more potions than he had. Feck it.. this is what he lived for.. the fight. " Verywell, we'll fight again when yer recovered. It should prove interesting" They waited....
Once he saw the man was recovered Vern says "well then, LETS GET THIS STARTED!!" He charged and Uhuru sidetepped to hit him in his back "Bah! ye damned whore!" He focused on the man hitting him hard, as the man backed up giving ground Vern advanced trying to make sure to stay outof the swing of Uhuru's blade. Kahramesz was on the retreat Vern turned to parry one of Uhuru's strikes grunting from the impact on his shield. Damn.. he had to end this quickly else he couldn't hold them both. He chased after the man trying to get the killing blow, but there was Uhuru harassing all of his advances. Finally he turned to face Uhuru she backed off eyeing his movements.. He was getting exhausted, the heavy armor weighing him down. She backs off into the Inn where Kahramesz was. Laughing stupidly thinking he had won Vern yells out "well then come on ye immortal! stand an FIGHT! With renewed strength the duo come out with more potions and they strike him hard, no.. he can't lose... He was out of his healing elixirs he couldn't last long.. they advanced.. Vern gave ground.. and he went down from the combined blows, breaking his arm and taking a cut to the back of his shoulder. Uhuru disgusted leaves, Kahramesz looks at him "Why should I not kill you?" Vern cackling with blood dripping from his mouth "because ye like te fight.. as much as I do.. then we can't fight anymore." Kahramesz seems thoughtful "True" Vern laughs again. "ehh well choice is yours Kahrafeckyerface" At which he simply puts away his weapon. Vern made his way to Cadomyr... Falling to one knee a stupid grin on his face "your grace" and he passes out momentarily. When he comes to Vern says "I went after tha Kahramesz, him.. an Uhuru.. I kicked their asses first.. but.." Muttering nonsense until they bring him to the apothecary he explains to Guy what happened... "It's not done.. give me two weeks so my bones mend and I shall kill them.. it's as simple as that......"

Everything slowed down.. he had lost hope. It was time...

He wrote the letter grimly and when he left the Inn it seems so casual, but he felt it.. his heartbeat weakening a sense of drifting off into a grey cloud that started to fill his vision...

Then the whispers started, and everything cleared again. He saw clearly alright, everything had a tinge of red. He was slaughtering three orcs in their territory, their expressions now locked in horror as their innards spilled and limbs were hacked. It felt like something was tearing him from the inside out as he killed everything he saw. He was dying or at least it felt like he was. In the shadow of the cave a frightening visage appeared before him, a visage of unspeakable horror, the very gruesome visage of death itself.. and it greeted him with that awful skeletal grin which seemed to condescend and take pleasure in the overwhelming pain he was feeling. "Oh stop it, you're scaring him. Can't you see he's in so much pain?" He turns while his heart felt weak before it now beat like a savage's drum. There stood another of great power, eerily beautiful yet bearing a deadly malevolence that he felt to his very core. "Are you sure this one is fit for the task M'lady." A deep powerful voice says behind him. Vern felt a paralyzing fear yet he was compelled to look, and there the last of the three powerful beings stood, a great tall warrior in a great draconic plate and a helm with the likeness of a black dragon. " He better be.. who else?" The beautiful woman says melodically. "If he does not serve us in life then he shall in death, either way it works out quite well" The frightening visage which appeared first finally spoke with a raspy whisper. "That won't be necessary, look at him, his mind and soul are torn to shreds.. in fact his soul should have died. But now he lives and with new purpose, the one we shall give him." The woman laughs then everything goes black and Vern plunges into the void.

After three or more days the dwarf rises, blinded by the morning sun. What? Where the hell was he? Looking over he sees a thief eyeing his coin purse intently. He felt sick but he managed to stand. The thief comes close "Ehh buddy how bout a drunk lordy lord give the poor some coin?" A smug expression was the the thiefs face, but not for long, the dwarf threw a gauntleted fist into the man's poorly protected chest, breaking his sternum in several places when the thief takes a startled breath he realizes a small piece of bone must have punctured his lungs. Without a word the dwarf continues to walk away shaking his hand.

She came to him often, the dark mistress. She told him what he needed to know she gave his empty life a meaning. "You are Kellanved now, and you are my champion. For now I want you to prove yourself to me, and to start I want you to continue paying taxes to Cadomyr but I want you to assist a certain someone..."
Confused and still feeling lost he wandered the wilderness, trying so hard to get rid of the feeling that he was being watched. She had told him that the people of this land will claim to recognize him, and that he should deny knowing them. Though he truly did not remember who the people of these lands were he felt a longing when they addressed him as Vern. Who was Vern? Was that my name? He shouldn't think these thoughts, they would lead to only pain she said..

Now the visits with the mistress have stopped and Kellanved started to feel overwhelmed. He didn't know how to act around these people. He felt lost inside and still the emptiness. They looked at him like his head was injured or like he was crazy. What the hell was he supposed to do. Finally he just stops trying and secludes himself in the wilderness again.

From afar figures watch the dwarf and speak quietly. "He is like an infant that can walk, talk, and fight... what use is that to us?" A vague shadowy shape of a burly man with the face of a black dragon says. The beautiful woman simply laughs "Just wait and see. Yes he is like an infant.. but he develops like a growing child. We can mould and shape him to do anything we ask." The shape with the visage of death stays silent simply watching intently. The woman tilts her head "I really wonder what will happen if his memories were restored, or even if they can be? I feel this is is not the one from before but a melding of the two souls. He feels no connection to his former god, or to the realm he served.. this much at least is good. It will be quite interesting to see how he turns out" She smiles wickedly.

It was in the wee hours of the morning. The dwarf seemed desperate going to many people hoping for answers on where or how he could get his memories back. Then he came across the other dwarf who he was supposed to meet and assist. But.. it was unexpected. The dwarf refused to acknowledge the task set. And Kellanved felt utterly confused, he asked over and over "what am I to do now then?" Then there it was.. right before him, "Follow me and help me pave a way for the dwarven people.. and I'll make sure you're memories are restored, you have my word." Kellanved would do anything for those memories back.. anything. Even better this dwarf didn't beat around the bush and he didn't ask him to kill anyone. Kneeling and taking an oath in dwarfish tongue, he didn't hesitate... he will get his memories back.

Scowling deep the usually beautiful face now distorted with rage. " He defies me? both of them? They shall pay.." A vile snickering as the visage of death appears speaking in that raspy whisper "You should have been more direct and not left him take his own path." She turns towards the visage of death, "Kill him! do it now.." He simply shakes his head, "He is not dying I no longer have power over him. Should have taken my advice and killed him before so I could have added him to my.. collection." She scoffs "then you would have had the toy all to yourself.. well anyway it's broken." She turns to the burly draconic warrior standing silent, "I want them.. both.." The warrior's eyes gleam...

He woke shivering from the cold, the fur blanket he slept in didn't help much so far north, after all he was getting so used to the heat of the desert. He spent much more of his time lately near Galmair, waiting patiently for any dove or message from the master dwarf. Trying to think back on his training like the master dwarf told him.. He stood swinging his axe and thinking hard. It came naturally to him, like his muscles retained a memory that his mind did not. The day he woke out in Elstree and the thief who he killed so easily, it was like the mechanical workings of a portcullis, he simply reacted.

"Think back lad.. ye were adept at usin different types'o weapons even before ye lost yer mind, think on yer training"

Frowning as he thrusts his spear at an imaginary enemy, he struggled to bring up... something, perhaps a face, a name, anything?

Then it came.. Blood... Blood everywhere. A blinding red haze that threatened to engulf him. The orcs in the cave killed.. no massacred, their parts strewn all over. Then those beings of such frightening power that rose to greet his blind rage with glee. "The fruits of your hard training Vern... " A different voice that sounded so close. "Or is it Bartimaeus? are you my son or are you his captor? This blood, the slaughter. Don't you see it? None can face you, you were my favored son, come back to me." Blood and bones. Decayed flayed bodies, flies everywhere, the stench of putrid methane from the defiled flesh. Moshran... father... No.. I am not an orc, this can't be. Who AM I? Who was I? What am I..... "A monster.. That is what you are and what you shall forever be... So come back to me, my son."

Once the haze cleared, Vern sat dumbfounded. No, this cannot be. This is not right, not who I am...

His memories returning yet he was descending an urge to withdraw from everyone and to wallow in tje misery these thoughts brought him. Every night something new, some glimpse of the past that in truth was better left uncovered. And still that ever present wisper... "come back Bartimaeus you never finished what you started."

Shaking his head, he did not believe the orc remained, the merging of their souls.. was not interrupted. Perhaps thats how it was meant to be. Bartimaeus lives on through Vern's memories and the memories of those he effected in life. He did not belong here, this is Vern's body. "You no longer hold power over ne bone lord, you can only grasp at air." For a moment theres an awkward silence shrugging as if hes simply speaking to himself he hears the loud wretched sounds of laughter engulf him. It was long before it faded and Vern was left shaking and insecure.

"I must keep my comrades close.. i have rejected them far too long."

The defense and offense he provided during Mas was near invaluable... until Zaras show it's miserable and grostesque pile of bones. Seeing the dragon evoked something in him, a primal urge to utterly destroy it. He knew he couldn't, not now, not alone. But he had to distract it long enough for the others to get help or flee.

"Arr, ye know exactly who i be dragon, don't ye?"
After tearing into Lafadiel the dragon turns to Vern. "Yes I know you dwarf, your soul has been touched by father..." Vern tryibg to goad it further, "Aye got a little bit of him inside, the soul that brought ye inte this world will throw ye out!"

Spreading it's great wings all black as a moonless night the dragon swooped down onto the battlement its cold lifeless eyes stared at Vern with the hate of a revanant. Standing off him and the dragon stared at each other, each trying to gauge the other then Vern dove in and swung his hammer hard at the dragon's front leg, getting a swipe from a claw. Vern then rolled away still watching the dragon. Ss'arney had come up behind the dragon he was about to charge when suddenly golden skeletons appeared to hold the lizard back. Vern wanted to help the lizard but he couldnt pass the dragon without the possibility of fatality. "The dwarf is MINE!" Lunging the dragon smashed Vern into the wall pinning him, struggling against the creatures massive strength the others tried to help, sarai, Ssarney, reena and alytys all attacked the dragon. The dragon momentarily distracted vern was able to move away again his plate armor severely damaged and grunting from the effort vern stood to face the dragon once more. It smashed the others away with little effort then once again swung at vern this time with fatal intentions... just barely he rolls away as the blow destroys part of the castle wall and dust billows outward. Standing steadfast Vern does not flee, he should have but he couldnt he had to bring this creature down at all costs. The dragon raises its claw to slam down on vern's shield pressing almost all it's strength dpwn ontop of him, it was crushing him and even his dwarven strength could not push off nor could he flee now. Thats when Ssarney began the chant.... growling the dragon turned to the lizard then back to vern biting him savagely then flying off at the sight of the lizards prayers being answered... vern stood then blood began to well at the wound, it was a cursed and horrid bite, and vern would have to fight for his life that night... not with hammer and shield but with his spirit.

As he sat before the altar of Malachin he got the letter. He looked at it a moment before opening. "Ufedhin.." As he reads the letter he frowns. Clenching his jaw he looks to the altar, "Nothens ever simple is it? It's always got te be some political pigshit or some manipulative vixen or a tie between brothers and comrades..."

Vern doesn't move from the altar for quite some time, he sits thinking furiously.