A very small airship navigates the rocky spires of Shabar – Indeed, it is nothing more than a carriage borne by a flight of Raktors (great flying warbirds). Armored warriors ride on the backs of the great avians, and a black Vartan rides within the airborne carriage.

Zoltan keeps his hands folded in his lap as he looks out one of the windows to the unfamiliar lands below. He nervously preens at his feathers.

A giant worm-like creature separates itself from one of the stone spires. At first glance, it looks much like one of those bizarre Gooshurms of the Himaat – those worm-like creatures with trifiburcated mouths that seem to have a liking for licking foxes – but this spreads three bat-like wings, and sports venom-dripping barbs.

The Vartan bristles at the sight of the creature but manages to remain in his seat. The Black Lancers know the safest path, there's probably nothing to worry about; besides… he doesn't look anything LIKE a fox.

The three-winged monstrosity soars around the flying group, occasionally turning toward the warbirds, then turning away. Occasionally, the nearest Lancer will place a curved horn up to his helmet, and emit an unearthly tone that sounds like a low bellow combined with a scraping sound … much like dry bones rubbing together. This seems to persuade the creature to back away, though not to give up entirely.

( And to think the Champion of Ashes rode one of those beasts. How does he even know where to sit? The knights will never cease to amaze me… ) Zoltan watches the events with utter fascination, and scoots a bit closer to the door just in case he needs to make a quick exit.

The beast continues its prodding at the group, occasionally prompting the Knights to change their formation, and jostling the carriage now and then. But, at last, the creature seems to tire of this sport, perhaps satisfying its curiosity … or desiring more familiar prey. It wings away … and as it goes, there are a few puffs of what seem to be dissipating smoke left in its wake.

The Vartan relaxes in his seat as the 'visitor' takes its leave. He goes back to watching the land around the carriage and praying that he doesn't make a fool of himself at the Sanctuary.

The journey continues, the bulk of it being almost unbearably boring … punctuated by brief and tense episodes as one or more of the three-winged monsters come to investigate the group … and at last lose interest and fall away. But at last, there is something different to look at, aside from the stone spires and the molten sky – Ahead, suspended between a circle of the rocky towers, is a structure that rests upon buttresses that look as if they have grown straight out of the rock – except that the rocky features gradually give way to the fine details of Templar architecture, with its arches and statues of solemn figures. A building rests upon these supports, cylindrical in form, remotely suggesting a gigantic chandelier or perhaps vaguely resembling a highly-decorated staffhead or weapon hilt.

Zoltan's eyes widen as the structure comes into view. How did the Knights manage to build such a thing out here in the middle of a wasteland? Or maybe it was always there like the Temple is rumored to have been. He catches himself holding his breath and lets it out explosively.

There is no sunlight, per se, to be found here. It might be daytime in the 'real world' beyond these boundaries, or it might be night. The only illumination comes from the swirling "sky" above, and its flickering lights create motes that dance across the polished domes of the Sanctuary of Amber. The warbirds carry the Vartan's palanquin toward one of the many "landing pads" radiating out from the structure … though there is nothing to indicate that this place would ever have enough visitors to make use of more than one of the pads at a time – let alone all of them.

The hippogryph starts preening himself again, pausing to rub at the white slash on his chest. Its faded a bit but still seems out of place. He thinks about the strange upside-down world he saw in the shard that hit him and how this place doesn't seem all that unlike it in some respects.

The carriage at last touches down, as do the warbirds – forming the points of a pentagon encircling the carrier, with the Champion of Ashes at the point closest to the bridge that provides the way to the Sanctuary. Several monks of the Sanctuary are there to great the new arrivals, their attire plain and humble – and quite probably mended several times over, though with enough care that the Vartan's keen eyes can only see the faintest hints of it from this distance.

Zoltan carefully opens the door to the carriage and steps out, wincing slightly as his legs remind him how long he's been sitting down. He nods his thanks to the Lancers and the Champion and then bows to the monks.

The monks bow in return. Though there is a mix of species represented – as would be expected in any Sanctuary – there are a few humans among the group, even though the largest settlements in this region would be populated by the Eeee, Nagai and the diminutive Aelfin. One of the human monks, with a short-cropped black beard visible under the hood of his cloak, addresses the Vartan. "Greetings, Baron Zoltan Cambio of Mountain Shadow Tribe and of Paradys, Slayer of Plaguebringers, and Friend of the Knights Templar! The Champion of Amber awaits in the central chamber for your arrival, though you are free to rest from your journey before you see him, should you so desire."

"Thank you," Zoltan scrawks. "But I no wish to impose on you for too long, unless it the wish of the Champion himself that I rest before seeing him?" He bows his head for a moment. "Hrr… What I means to say is that whenever the Champion of Amber is readies to see me, that when I go."

The human, his eyes still hidden by shadow from the light cast by the molten display above, smiles faintly. "The Champion of Amber has a knack for being ready whenever someone comes to visit him. You may seek audience from him at any time you wish during your stay here, Baron."

The Vartan nods and folds his hands behind his back. "I would likes to see him now then, if possible. Is anything I need do to prepare?"

"No, Baron, if you have made this journey, then you are most certainly already prepared," the monk replies … and then backs away and to the side, as the rest of the monks do likewise, making way for the black Vartan and his armored escort.

Zoltan looks to the Champion of Ashes, it seems only proper to let the higher ranked knight go first. Besides, he probably knows where he's going.

There is a pause, and then the Champion strides forward. The rest of the Lance waits for the Baron, before taking up the rear. Several of the monks remain behind to stable the warbirds and to cover the carriage. One can only guess at what sort of bad weather one might fear in these parts…

As he follows behind the Champion, the Vartan studies the knight's back. Ashes has always been the most frightening of the Champions to him, and the most mysterious… yet he also seems the most legendary and the most powerful. He looks for the knight's sword, probaly the most legendary part of him.

The knight's two-handed blade hangs across his back, hidden within a scabbard that looks as if it might be fashioned of black ceramic, chitin … or, for that matter, volcanic rock. In any case, it would appear that no opportunity is being chanced that someone might accidentally stumble and touch the notorious weapon directly.

The path of the Lancers and the Baron leads them to an archway, and then within the Sanctuary itself. In accordance to the name of the Lance that calls this place home, the furnishings appear to have been made of amber, sometimes with small objects or insects trapped within polished pieces of the organically-originated "rock".

Zoltan allows his gaze to slip away from the Champion and fall on the walls around him. He'd seen small gemstones of amber in the Shoppe… but a whole big room, probably more?

Actually, upon further inspection, with the Vartan's keen eyes (and his specialization in identifying things shiny), it would appear that, no, this place is NOT fashioned purely from amber … though it still sports an awful lot of the semi-precious material. Wooden fixtures and stone settings of similar color fill out the decorations of the Sanctuary's interior, punctuated by pieces of the translucent gemstone, but giving a visual appearance of a continuous, uniform, painstakingly symmetrical work of art.

The corridors in this building are either straight, if running into or out of the central hub of the structure … or rounded, running parallel to its circumference. Heading for what must be the sanctum of the Champion of Amber, the corridor followed by this group is decidedly straight.

The Vartan continues along, ocasionally studying one of the things trapped in the Amber to see if they might have been deliberately put there or if they're just accidental things that were trapped.

The thing suspended within the amber is an insect, the fine veins of its membranous wings picked out by the Vartan's keen eyes, even though it must have been in this stone for countless ages – unless, of course, magic were involved. But when magic is involved, all bets are off, of course … and that wouldn't seem the style of the Knights Templar, even though they seem to have a strange knack for surrounding themselves with the bizarre and the marvelous freaks of "nature" on Sinai that defy natural explanation.

Zoltan continues on. After all, he didn't come here to look at bugs.

There are plenty more bugs to be seen … and, alas, the pretty trinkets offer no real insights into the mysteries of the universe … only minor distractions, no doubt added over the course of a very, very long time by monks with absolutely nothing better to do with their spare time and whatever supplies were delivered here by the Order. At last, the corridor ends at an archway that opens into a much larger, domed chamber – one of several archways that run along its circumference. A crackling noise can be heard from within, and the smell of ozone permeates the air … a smell that Zoltan is acquainted with, from his adventures within the Tower of Paradys.

The Champion of Ashes stops here. The Lancers stop as well. They make way for the Baron.

He pauses to sniff curiously at the air, one of his ears dips down in a questioning gesture he picked up from Third-Eye. Zoltan leaves the question unasked… he has more important questions on his mind right now. He nods to his escort and then walks into the chamber.

The chamber, as should be expected from other Temple and Templar constructions the Vartan has seen in his many adventures, is fairly large … but the size in itself is nothing greater than what he has seen before, and therefore loses some the awe it might otherwise inspire in the first-time visitor. However, the architecture and the construction of the walls gives the domed chamber the look of being fashioned from countless fragments of amber, just clear enough toward the top to let in the swirling lights of the molten sky.

Hovering far above the Vartan's head, a bizarre structure moves to and fro, seemingly at random. It is comprised of winged statues at its corners … When it is possible to catch glimpses of the faces, it appears that the visages resemble that of a human, a maned Khatta, either an Aquilan or Vartan, and lastly what MIGHT be an Aeonian. The statues each have multiple wings, two of which serve to bridge between each statue and its neighbor. The structure includes several spinning wheels and wheels within wheels, and glides back and forth, up and down, with streams of lightning dancing between the figures and the amber interior of the sanctum.

Zoltan peers curiously at the statues as he continues deeper into the Sanctuary. Perhaps they were former Champions, or the ones who made this building. His eyes look around for any signs of the Champion of Amber himself.

Standing across the way is the Champion of Amber, dressed in brightly-colored robes, his head adorned with a wide-brimmed hat … or perhaps just a strangely-designed helmet. His face is covered with a featureless, smooth mask of amber, under which flows gray-white strands of a long beard.

Though no features can be seen of the Champion's face, he is almost certainly human … and though evidently in good shape for one of the age that his beard suggests, he nonetheless does not move in any way that would suggest great physical strength. He carries no sword, but instead a staff, from which dangle a couple of brass rings. It serves to lean upon for support, but looks sturdy enough to serve as a weapon in battle, if such an occasion should arise.

The Vartan moves to stand about twenty feet away from the Champion and then goes down on one knee. He keeps quiet for now and waits until he's addressed before he speaks.

"Please rise, Baron. You are welcome here at the Sanctuary. Your deeds are well known here," says a voice from underneath the mask of amber.

Zoltan pulls himself up to his hooved feet. "Thank you for seeings me. I been told you might be able to help me with a problem I having back on Rephidim."

The Champion of Amber nods. "Perhaps. I am lacking in one sort of sight, but blessed with another. At times, the Star grants me visions of things that are and have been and may yet be, though not always the interpretations to go with these visions. Furthermore, what I see of the future is what may happen, not what will certainly be … and the mere act of prophesy can set in course those events which may prevent it from being fulfilled. Take anything I tell you with that in mind. The Star has blessed me with some insight, but I lay no claim to be a true Prophet, and I have made mistakes before."

"I am seeking a way to rid my family from a menace I encounter on Paradys. A death goddess name Necropolis." the Vartan says, holding out his hands. "I wish to destroy her before she harm anyone else… or grow to a threat against all of Rephidim, or Sinai itself. In months I been searching for answers, I find bits of legend, shred of fact, piece of puzzles… but no enough to know where I should go or what I shoulds do when I encounter her again. I come to you with the hope that you might be able to helps me find these missing pieces."

The Champion nods. "Some of what I may tell you, you may have heard before, but I can tell you this much without any pretense of prophesy – Necropolis, in various forms, has long been an enemy of Knights Templar across Sinai. The City of the Dead is in the heart of the land of Aeztepa, and there resides the throne of Amenlichtli, Queen of those who live under the shadow of death. Her subjects are not only the dead, but the barely living … for her magicks cannot exist without the energy of the living to draw upon. Death cannot beget death. It can only come forth from life."

Zoltan nods his head, forgetting that the Champion can't see this gesture. "I know what she subjects is like. Two of they offspring are my adopted children. If story of her origins I hear are true, they might even be same species as she was originally."

The Champion nods. "Here is the great puzzle of the undead to be found on Sinai: Not every animated corpse to be found over history has anything to do with Necropolis. But nonetheless, there are many that are slaves to the entity known as Necropolis. Amenlichtli and Necropolis are one and the same. And so are all of those undead beings who are part of Necropolis. Promises of immortality are but lies. Those who enter the realm of the 'living dead' are truly dead in spirit – They pass on to their eternal fate. What remains is a mere shadow of the living … a rotting corpse, animated by ancient and powerful magicks unlike any within the grasp of modern mages … and the 'intelligence' that motivates that body is but part of a greater whole. Each body is nothing but a puppet, with just enough memories to put on a charade. For what purpose? No one knows."

"Does that mean Necropolis is dead, and thing that haunting my family is just shadow of what she was?" Zoltan asks. "Or she something more?"

The Champion continues, "Necropolis is not purely magic … and is not truly dead. Someone – or, now, some THING – still lives within the corrupted heart of Necropolis, in the throne set in Aeztepa."

The Vartan takes a nervous step forward. "If I wish to stop her… will I have to go to Aeztepa?"

"Yes, and no," the Champion replies. "Necropolis cannot reach across Sinai at a whim. Necropolis acts through Avatars that are created and empowered with a part of its collective consciousness. They may seem to have personalities of their own, but they are ultimately fragments of the true personality of Necropolis … they are mere masks being worn, to be discarded as desired. But an Avatar that will last any amount of time or possess any true amount of power is not quickly created. You do not simply leave a body unburied and have it leap up under the power of Necropolis. No, there must be agents of Necropolis – the body must be brought to Necropolis, or one of its agents must go to the body. If Necropolis' Avatars are eliminated, Necropolis has no power until another takes its place. Without Avatars, Necropolis is confined to its throne, far away in Aeztepa, with nothing but its defeated servants to rule over in that forgotten land."

Zoltan unconciously begins pacing back and forth, "I was told she might have one Avatar in Rephidim and I gots suspiscion on where to find its. Was probably another Avatar I meet in Paradys. The first one go up in flames like paper… I no sure if one in Rephidim going to be so easy to defeat… or find."

"Necropolis has many weaknesses," the Champion says. "Necropolis wishes to be feared, and to be dreaded. Wherever an Avatar is active, there will be legends and myths. Necropolis is not patient. Any time that an Avatar of Necropolis has been long in slumber, awakened after many centuries, it has not been by choice." The Champion adds, "Necropolis' greatest weakness is pride, outside of its own domain."

"What can I do to protect my family from her? There times when my daughter act like she posessed. Nobody been hurt yet, but I think it because Necropolis know that it make my heart skip few beats whenever she do it." the Vartan looks down as his ebon black hooves as he thinks on the Champion's words. "You say 'outside it domain', what about inside?"

The Champion says, "Necropolis' hold on your daughter is weak… " His voice trails off, and – though his eyes are not visible, his face tilts upward, as if he is staring off toward the strange structure or the dome beyond it. "Necropolis' hold on your daughter is very weak, but there is a seed planted within her. One which will never reach fruition until she matures … and one which cannot unless she succumbs to temptation. Unless Necropolis is truly defeated before the time comes, your daughter is destined to face a great challenge. Necropolis made a mistake."

"Challenge? What challenge?" Zoltan stops cold in his tracks.

"Necropolis' weakness is pride," the Champion says, "and Necropolis could not resist the urge to scare someone … to goad them … to make them feel dread. Necropolis could not keep a secret and wait for the proper time. After that, Necropolis realized its mistake … and has jabbed at you now and then, knowing that its position is greatly jeopardized with this potential Avatar. Indeed, that this child – or her father – could be the one to bring about its destruction."

"Pouncer… an avatar? Like one back on Paradys?" The Vartan feels a lump start to swell up in his throat.

The Champion nods. "Yes, though her mind is her own. Necropolis' intention is to battle her, to crush her spirit, and ultimately take over her mind and body. If that happens, she will then become a puppet of Necropolis. The body may be alive, after a fashion, and may speak with her voice and recall some of her memories and mannerisms … but the true soul will have passed out of this realm. I foresee that this cannot happen for another ten years, however. Necropolis is not content to use the body of a child."

"If avatar on Rephidim is destroyed, will it make it harder for Necropolis to do this to Pouncer?" Zoltan scrawks. His right hand opens and closes slowly.

"Yes," the Champion says. "Harder … but not impossible. Necropolis will be greatly weakened if there is no already existing Avatar around to extend an influence upon your daughter – and the further away she is from Aeztepa, the better."

Zoltan rubs his beak with his left hand. "Ten years… where could I find map of Aeztepa, or some way to find out where Necropolis is? If it in my power at all to stop her before she decide to attack my daughter, I do everything I can."

"That I cannot give you … but I see that a noble task is yours," the Champion says, as he turns toward a pedestal to his left. He reaches for what looks like an orange bowl there, and picks it up in his hands. As he turns back toward the Vartan, the "bowl" in fact appears to be a featureless mask much like that which comprises the front of the Champion's helmet.

Zoltan quirks his head sideways, not quite understanding.

"Not every Champion of Amber is blind, and not every Champion of Amber sees visions quite as I have. This is the mask that would normally be a part of my uniform, though it is wasted on me. The wearer may see that which is not seen by eyes – ley lines of magic that traverse Sinai. It will not show you all things – especially not magic of the Sphere of Shadow – and is subject to the trickery of mages who wish to hide themselves … but it will be as good a tool as any to aid you in finding Necropolis and her puppets, if you learn to use it properly."

The Champion hands the featureless mask to the Vartan. "Of course, it is only on loan," the Champion adds.

He just stares at the mask in his hands for a moment. "Thank you." Zoltan finally manages to stammer out. "Is it very delicate? I no wish to risk breaking it… and where it lead me will probably be into a fight." HE turns the mask around carefully, trying to figure out how he could wear it.

The mask looks like it would be awkward, at the very least, for someone other than a flat-faced human to wear. It also is devoid of any fasteners or straps to hold it on. It does seem to be fairly durable … and doesn't have any trapped bugs floating in it, thank goodness.

"So far as I know," the Champion says, "it is nigh-invulnerable. It would be best not to test that theory, however. I know for a certainty that it is capable of surviving a direct blow from a metal sword. I don't believe it has faced the blow of a Titanian's hammer."

The hippogryph's gaze falls to the mark on his chest. He holds the mask up over his eyes and looks carefully at the faded slash marring his feathers. "Someone once told me that way to defeat Necropolis was with weapon that was no from this world. I been thinking of what that thing might be… first I thought it was boomer thing from Paradys, then I think it was gun I finds, then I think it might be sword lost in Bosch… but now I starting to think that it might be me. But if it is, I no sure hoe much time I gots left before it no me anymore." He studies the mark through the mask, curious as to whether or not it shows up as anything different through its vision.

The mask barely lets the Vartan see a thing … but the slash across his chest shows up like light shining through the cracked outline of a door into a darkened room … though it is very faded and weak.

"There is no single way to defeat Necropolis," the Champion says. "But neither is there any EASY way."

Zoltan looks back up. "I gots place to start at least now. We see soon if my training pay off." He gently rubs the edges of the mask with his thumbs. "Is anything else I should know? You visions… you ever seen anything abouts me?"

"I see many possibilities," the Champion says. "Many of them involve you dying a heroic death. Whatever road you take, the way will be treacherous, and the price may be great. Your fate may be unfair – You must carefully weigh your priorities, and what you are willing to pay for them."

"For my daughter's safety, I would gladly give my life," the Vartan says quietly. "But I also know what it like to lose a father. I… I goings to have to think about this."

The Champion nods. "You are wise to do so. You should never even choose the right decision without realizing its costs – for you must be prepared to stay the course when those costs become more apparent."

Zoltan looks back down at the mask. "How can Pouncer become strong enough to win against Necropolis if she still lives in ten years?"

The Champion of Amber says, "By being taught and raised well, by being taught to resist temptations, and not to seek the easy solution. If she is strong in her convictions, no temptation of Necropolis has any hope of touching her. If she, in ten years' time, reasons selfishly, she will easily fall to Necropolis."

The Vartan nods his head. "I think I understands. Pouncer need a good father more than a knight… hrrr… no offense."

"None taken," the Champion answers. "And neither path shall be easy."

Zoltan tucks the mask under one arm and wipes at his eye with his free hand. "Is fatherhood so hard that it can make you crazy? Can it drive you away and make you hide and never come back?" He closes his eyes and turns away from the Champion. "Why didn't he come back… "

The Champion offers no answer. Only silence.

"I'm sorry." He scrubs at his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Thank you again for seeing me. I grateful for all the help that the Knights Templar have given me. I do everything I can to return you mask to you and hope I can return the debt I owe you someday."

"Of that, I am confident," the Champion of Amber says. "I have foreseen that, one way or another, the mask will return, though not by your talons. If you should lose it, do not lose heart – though it will only benefit you while in your possession. It, like all artifacts of the Knights Templar, is steeped in destinies known only to the Star."

"Regardless," Zoltan says, smirking a little. "I no go out of my way to try and lose it."

The Champion of Amber bows. "I would expect nothing less from you, Baron Cambio."

"I gots one more question," the Vartan says, looking down at his hooves again. "This one is purely selfish and I understand if you no wish to answer it… "

"Go ahead," says the Champion. "There is no harm in asking."

Zoltan takes a deep breath. "Is Cambio Herbir dead?"

There is a pause. "No," answers the Champion of Amber. "He yet lives."

For a moment, Zoltan can't seem to find his voice. He can't seem to breathe or even move. Then it all starts hammering at him at once, he can feel his heart pounding, his breath turning cold in his lungs… "Where?" he asks. "Please… where can I find him?"

The Champion of Amber says, "He was in Himar. He is yet in Himar … though he is not. I can give you no more meaningful answer than that."

Zoltan nods his head, feeling the surface of the mask grow slick in his sweating palms. "The boomer… do you visions tell you anything I can do to help him?"

There is another pause, but the Champion shakes his head. "I can only see that it is within your power to do something to aid him, that there is hope, but I cannot direct you down that path."

"Thank you for that much." the hippogryph says quietly. "I think that the best I can do is trust the Star to guide me to him… is no failed me yet." He holds the mask out again and examines it. "I no trying to be a hero. For all the titles I gets called, for all the people I meets… all I wants is for my family to be safe. When the time comes to do something, I try to do the right thing. I think that why I admire the Knights Templar so much."

The Champion nods. "The Star will appreciate that far more than titles and lauds."

Zoltan rubs his beak. "If you pardon me sayings so… I always throught that just Savanites worship the Star?"

The Champion of Amber says, "That is not so. The truth is more complicated than that, and I do not know it wholly myself. But this much I know – the origin of the Knights Templar is not the same as that of the Temple."

"Probably something better left discussed another time." The Vartan scrawks. "You given me lots to think about, Champion. More than I bargain for; but I starting to feel hope again."

The Champion of Amber bows. "May the Star light your way, Baron Cambio."

Zoltan returns the bow and starts on the path leading out of the Sanctuary.

After some recuperation at the Sanctuary, the Baron of Paradys sets out with the Black Lance, rejoining with the Staff and Hand. And on that long journey from Ur to where Rephidim hovers over the continent of Ai, Zoltan is left with much time to ponder the many, many paths that lie before him … and the many costs that accompany all of them … including the cost of doing nothing at all.