Finding Frostmourne

[-Belthore]

Belthore had been flying over the vast ocean of Recel in looking for the legendary blade known as Frostmourne. Belthore had been flying from Ribble towards Meliora island for some days now, and it seemed to him that he would never get there. Belthore felt a radiance of power such power could hide even the undead soul blade it was infact a storm of raging white fire and he knew that such power such raging uncontrolled power could house Frostmourne in all it's glory, but maybe Frostmourne wasen't there and if it wasen't he would try other powerful places of magic, but Belthore sincerely hoped that it was in Meliora.

On the horizon yes there it was in the settling dusk it was indeed Meliora island, the radiance of the island was wonderful it could hold many hostels and would work well for a colonization project for those who would want to live on an island paradise. Belthore was searching for a great many things upon this rather remote island. The great many things only in truth turned out to be Frostmourne. He had heard Ezekiel talk about a great reward, and as a draco-lich he was still a dragon and loved greed he loced the feel of gold running through his fingers and silver oh yes and even more so platinum it was so wonderful.

Belthore was nearly upon the island it woulden't take long now for the moon was reflecting upon the waters upon the beach in which he had in his sights. Belthore was rather happy to be here it had taken forever to get here, but for some reason he was not tired not fatigued it was probally the wonderous black ring that had changed upon his transformation and now rested around a claw. Belthore was finally upon the beach already transforing as he was nearling there. His claws changed to hands as he landed upon the ground his body became compact, and the black ring around his finger felt all the more comfortable.

Frostmourne was here or had been at some point in the past Belthore thought. He haden't been around Frostmourne in a little less then a decade, but it was hard for an aura like Frostmourne's to lose itself once someone came in contact with that awesome blade. Belthore was at a loss at where to search however the alchemy temple might prove rather useful. Belthore nearly stumbled as he thought of that. Belthore knew, and he guessed Ezekiel knew that no one like the monks in the temple would house a blade of evil such as Frostmourne within their hall. Belthore thought again, and the idea just came to him.

The idea itself had been a tomb of somesort, but after finding almost no tombs he had a hunch that a terrible weapon like Frostmourne would be in a graveyard in which there was a very large one in Meliora. Belthore didn't think that a bane of souls would be resting upon a graveyard on a tiny island, but he didn't know Frostmourne. Belthore could feel it's aura radiating like a thousand suns of fury of novas and black holes Frostmourne was here or had been here only a short time ago, and Belthore was heading toward the main alter of the graveyard the aura kept getting much stronger, and Belthore thought it would be there he just didn't know if the Elven Lord would accept the blade..

The blade was overwhelmingly powerful making Belthore fight for every inch of ground he gained. Belthore had to breath every few seconds in order to just be in the presence of such power, but the rewards he hoped would be better then living in a nightmare like this. Belthore whispered to te blade Come with me to see yourself restored to a mind you remember to the mind of your forger! To be completely honest he just wanted to take the blade to that elven lord, and run on out of here. Belthore came to the tomb of Frostmourne and entered the blinding futy of the undead blade was overwhelming almost until Belthore let it into his mind for a brief few minutes. It appeared that the powers ceased, and Belthore grasped the hilt of Frostmourne and wrapped it's fine edge in a blanket and strapped it behind his back, and Belthore soon departed the cemetary and Meliora island.

[-Ezekiel]

OOC: Belthore I'm going to have to change your post a bit...sorry but I need Zeke back nowish. What with Drake back and what not....sorry I'll make it up to you.
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The wind rushed around Elia's claws as she flew toward the tiny island of Meloria, she was tired her body was strained. Each wing beat was slow and powerful, yet she felt almost drained, her rider was much the same, both of them were drained, a dark weight was on their shoulders as they slow came to earth on the tiny island.

Darkness hung over the island as a power pulsed in the dark. Fear spread through Elia's body as she watch her rider leap from her back and run into the darkness, he was after something, not just anything but that thing. The thing. The cursed blade he laid eyes so long ago. The blade infested him with dark thoughts of destroying the creature that had taken control of him. But Elia knew the truth, the man and the blade were connected, she could feel him surrounding Kil'Jaedun, his very touch was like death. Shuddering to herself, Elia moved off toward the graveyard, her massive bulk shaking the ground.

Kil'Jaedun was panting as he got closer to the graveyard, his mind was full of dark thoughts, cursed images of death and destruction. Power was all he thought of as he ran deeper and deeper into the Graveyard, the smell of the dead filled the air as the Elven king laid eyes on a Lich, holding his prized possesion. "That is mine" roared Kil'Jaedun as he stepped toward the blade. But his body stopped, he could move, he felt as if he was being twisted.

"Elia help me, please" cried Kil'Jaedun as he tried to move forward, the snow white dragon stood still, fear crept through her body as she watch the elven king try to move toward the blade. "Elia either you help me or I fuse our souls together!" screamed the elven king as he clawed at thin air, his hands reaching for the blade. "No my love, I can't let you hold such a cursed blade." cried Elia as she turned slowly, but her giant feet stopped as she heard her Elven rider chant slowly, his voice cold and cruel. "NOOOO" screamed the dragon as she was lifted off the ground as a dark vortex formed around the elven king.

Kil'Jaedun roared with laughter as he slowly shifted form, huge dragon claws erupted from his hands and feet, wings sprouted from his back, horns scales. Nothing could harm him, nothing except for the blade of Ezekiel. Lifting his snow white head the Elven-dragon flicked a hand toward the lich, but the blade had lifted from it's hands already and was speeding toward him. The blade thrusted into his chest, filling him with the darkest of powers as Ezekiel slowly entered his body from the shadow realm.

The ground shook as the dark lord of death returned to the world, his shape and form darker then ever. No longer would he be weak against flesh or mortal blades. Immortality was his and he would destroy all those around him.

Taking his first steps with his new body Ezekiel laughed with delight as he felt every pulse of energy, every dark cry of dispare. Death had returned to the world and it's name was Ezekiel.