City of IF

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

(The reason for three paragraphs is I made a mistake. The second paragraph is from HalfEmptyHero)


A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

[Key]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

[HalfEmptyHero]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

"Jebzidiah Longstockings!" the teacher roared, turning to the placid face of the young elf. "Now is no time for magic!"

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

"Jebzidiah Longstockings!" the teacher roared, turning to the placid face of the young elf. "Now is no time for magic!"

Many of the students begin laughing, but the elf looks confused, and a little worried. "I'm not doing it, I swear!" The teacher give his a hard look as yet another bolt flashes across the sky followed by a deafening roar of thunder. A few of the students yelp at the nearness of the sound, and the elf says again, "It's not me this time. This is natural!" He had once or twice before messed with the weather, but never on this scale. The suspicion in the teacher's eyes wanes as he looks out at the ever darkening sky.

[HalfEmptyHero]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

"Jebzidiah Longstockings!" the teacher roared, turning to the placid face of the young elf. "Now is no time for magic!"

Many of the students begin laughing, but the elf looks confused, and a little worried. "I'm not doing it, I swear!" The teacher give his a hard look as yet another bolt flashes across the sky followed by a deafening roar of thunder. A few of the students yelp at the nearness of the sound, and the elf says again, "It's not me this time. This is natural!" He had once or twice before messed with the weather, but never on this scale. The suspicion in the teacher's eyes wanes as he looks out at the ever darkening sky.

Hunter loosed his arrow just as the thunder sounded and, with the skill indicative of his title, it found its mark. The teacher collapsed as the arrow pierced his throat. The students, hithero unaware of the dangers that life presented, erupted into a panic.

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

"Jebzidiah Longstockings!" the teacher roared, turning to the placid face of the young elf. "Now is no time for magic!"

Many of the students begin laughing, but the elf looks confused, and a little worried. "I'm not doing it, I swear!" The teacher give his a hard look as yet another bolt flashes across the sky followed by a deafening roar of thunder. A few of the students yelp at the nearness of the sound, and the elf says again, "It's not me this time. This is natural!" He had once or twice before messed with the weather, but never on this scale. The suspicion in the teacher's eyes wanes as he looks out at the ever darkening sky.

Hunter loosed his arrow just as the thunder sounded and, with the skill indicative of his title, it found its mark. The teacher collapsed as the arrow pierced his throat. The students, hitherto unaware of the dangers that life presented, erupted into a panic.


There is screaming and shouting and together in all the confusion all the students cram themselves against the door to try and flee from the unseen danger. Jebzidiah moves almost as if he is in a haze to the teacher's side, shaking him gently and calling out to him. When at last the room is empty, the cries of the children now joined by many others from all over town as more and more people are taken out without warning, the young elf looks over to see Hunter staring at him from down the shaft of a knocked arrow. He can feel his terror rising but in all of his confusion Jebzidiah realizes there is only one safe place in the room right now. Without warning the elf vanishes from view only to reappear right in front of the hunter. Before the man can react the youth become incorporeal and sinks into Hunter's body, becoming one with the man who had just murdered his teacher.

[kkdestiny]

(dont know how to do the color thing)

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

"Jebzidiah Longstockings!" the teacher roared, turning to the placid face of the young elf. "Now is no time for magic!"

Many of the students begin laughing, but the elf looks confused, and a little worried. "I'm not doing it, I swear!" The teacher give his a hard look as yet another bolt flashes across the sky followed by a deafening roar of thunder. A few of the students yelp at the nearness of the sound, and the elf says again, "It's not me this time. This is natural!" He had once or twice before messed with the weather, but never on this scale. The suspicion in the teacher's eyes wanes as he looks out at the ever darkening sky.

Hunter loosed his arrow just as the thunder sounded and, with the skill indicative of his title, it found its mark. The teacher collapsed as the arrow pierced his throat. The students, hitherto unaware of the dangers that life presented, erupted into a panic.


There is screaming and shouting and together in all the confusion all the students cram themselves against the door to try and flee from the unseen danger. Jebzidiah moves almost as if he is in a haze to the teacher's side, shaking him gently and calling out to him. When at last the room is empty, the cries of the children now joined by many others from all over town as more and more people are taken out without warning, the young elf looks over to see Hunter staring at him from down the shaft of a knocked arrow. He can feel his terror rising but in all of his confusion Jebzidiah realizes there is only one safe place in the room right now. Without warning the elf vanishes from view only to reappear right in front of the hunter. Before the man can react the youth become incorporeal and sinks into Hunter's body, becoming one with the man who had just murdered his teacher.

The man's conciousness is cast aside, made to be a spectator as the spirited young elf gained control of his body and access to his memories. Who is this man, really? Why did he kill his teacher? What does he know about the storm? How can he hurt him?

[Crunchyfrog]

A whistle rang out in the dark, an old forgotten lullaby. The clear skies overhead grew cloudy and electricity began to build. Over the plains a dark figure walked, it's silent steps heralding a beginning of a new age. An age where everything one once knew comes into question, and where reality itself will fall from beneath the feet of all. The whistling rang out pure and clear, cutting through the sound of rumbling overhead, carried far on the winds as they grow in strength. The figure could see the future, feel it drawing closer with every second that passes and it could not be more pleased. The future followed, like a well trained dog waiting on it's master's beck and call, and as the figure came to a stop the skies open as they never had before. On that day, mother nature wept for man, and turned her face away from the oncoming storm.

~*~*~*~*~

-We all remembered the bomb, of course. How could we not? The blinding lights flashing across the sky; the deluge of radioactive dust and debris, and God knows what else, blitzing the heavens; and the noise—the humbling, fear-inducing noise, we couldn't forget any of it. There wasn't a soul still left without a sickness. We were all affected, no matter how much iodine we took.-

The young elf stares at the words scrolling across the view screen, only taking in about every other word, something about a bomb and clouds. He doesn't know why he has to learn about all this crap since it happened so long ago. 'This is so boring, why do we have to hear about this every year? It's not like we ever learn anything new. . .' With a sigh he looks out the window of his tree-top classroom and spots a storm on the horizon. 'Cool, maybe classes will be cancelled if the storm gets bad enough!' Looking out through the leaves the you elf prays that the storm come their way, that he and his fellow students will be able to leave early. While the humans and other ground dwelling species will have an easier time of it, the tree dwelling elves and avians will make due and count themselves lucky. The elf doesn't notice the man down below, looking up at the very window he looks out, doesn't realize his prays are ones that spell a radical change in his very existence.

The man at the bottom of the tree notes the elf's face and nods with satisfaction. The man's name is Hunter. That is also his profession. Having seen his mark, Hunter returns to the shadows of a nearby tree, and waits for the storm.

Turning off the screen the teacher turns to the class with a sigh. "There will be a test Thursday on the information covered in the video along with the contents of chapter three in your textbooks. Please review the mock quiz and you are in charge of your own sheet of notes to use during the test." Looking around the bored feathered teacher looks at the equally bored student and slumps. "Any questions, comments, come see me after class. Now if you would please op-" His voice is cut off by a loud crack of thunder outside.

"Jebzidiah Longstockings!" the teacher roared, turning to the placid face of the young elf. "Now is no time for magic!"

Many of the students begin laughing, but the elf looks confused, and a little worried. "I'm not doing it, I swear!" The teacher give his a hard look as yet another bolt flashes across the sky followed by a deafening roar of thunder. A few of the students yelp at the nearness of the sound, and the elf says again, "It's not me this time. This is natural!" He had once or twice before messed with the weather, but never on this scale. The suspicion in the teacher's eyes wanes as he looks out at the ever darkening sky.

Hunter loosed his arrow just as the thunder sounded and, with the skill indicative of his title, it found its mark. The teacher collapsed as the arrow pierced his throat. The students, hitherto unaware of the dangers that life presented, erupted into a panic.


There is screaming and shouting and together in all the confusion all the students cram themselves against the door to try and flee from the unseen danger. Jebzidiah moves almost as if he is in a haze to the teacher's side, shaking him gently and calling out to him. When at last the room is empty, the cries of the children now joined by many others from all over town as more and more people are taken out without warning, the young elf looks over to see Hunter staring at him from down the shaft of a knocked arrow. He can feel his terror rising but in all of his confusion Jebzidiah realizes there is only one safe place in the room right now. Without warning the elf vanishes from view only to reappear right in front of the hunter. Before the man can react the youth become incorporeal and sinks into Hunter's body, becoming one with the man who had just murdered his teacher.

The man's conciousness is cast aside, made to be a spectator as the spirited young elf gained control of his body and access to his memories. Who is this man, really? Why did he kill his teacher? What does he know about the storm? How can he hurt him?

The first of the man's emotions he feels is pride, but it is pride mingled with distrust. Distrust of... distrust of the elven species; their evil magic, controlling the elements.... Evil? Jebzidiah, within the man's body, shakes his head in disbelief. He looks down at his slain teacher, and then across at the blank view screen at the back of the classroom. Of course... the lesson... the downfall of Man... Jebzidiah moves towards the screen and switches it back on. The words of history resume rolling across its shiny surface.