Prologue

The Intro to book one of The Immortals Game: Azure Eyes

Setting the Board

**The Dark Master**

“The game is set;” came Umbra's silky hiss, such simple, seemingly innocent words spoken in that icy tone drove dread deep into Brune's heart. He looked at the chess board, taking in the nine by nine rows of black and white tiles inlaid in the granite table; it’s pieces all neatly arrayed. He stared at it thoughtfully, not a regular game of chess, this was called the masters game for a reason, he picked up the master and turned it over in his hand, Umbra suddenly piping up again.
“The master, it never seems important, it can barely move, can’t take another piece alone, but without the master who would make the pieces dance the dance.”
The wraith who spoke was little more than aether given form, a mass of shadows and blue flames that spit and snapped out arrant sparks; he looked nothing like the man that Umbra had once been. Yet here he sat like he always had, his eyes alight as he sat his seat awaiting to play his favourite game.
“What do you want Umbra?”
“Can't a condemned man seek the solace of an old friend…?”
Brune stared at him skeptically.
“Please Brune, have a seat,” he gestured across from him to a stool, a much more simple piece compared to the grandeur of Umbra's own grand throne. His chair was a twisted tombstone of a monstrosity made of slabs of white quartz, carved with jagged thorns laced with pulsing veins of black onyx that seemed to glow within, but its look was just cosmetic, it was in fact a piece of old earth tech made to hold Umbra here.
“Have you forgotten how to play?”
“It's just chess.”
Umbra nodded and Brune took the offered seat taking a single pawn and moved it up two spaces.
“So… what now, do we just roll over for you, pretend we don’t see what you’re doing?” Brune tried to maintain his tone, staying quiet, vaguely aware that there were others in the room, specifically the acolytes there to maintain the energy to the chair that bound the his opponent to this place.
Umbra looked down at the board stroking his jaw, the flames and smoke simply merging in a lick of flame that twisted upwards.
"Well actually, I’m not sure;" he cheerfully mused tapping his jaw still. He stared at the board a long moment, touching first a pawn, and than a knight.
“Are you going to make a move?"
Umbra's eyes traveled up from the board slowly, deep pits of swirling black-blue flames, “you seem oddly worried with time for someone who has not aged in four thousand years,” he took up a knight and moved it left of his queen. “Is patience no longer a virtue in the outside world?”
“I came here because I wanted a straight answer.”
“It is so rare we get what we want though.”
Brune moved his next pawn forward in hopes of blocking the knight from taking his first pawn.
Umbra’s eyes lit happily with little sparks, “are you sure you’re ready for the answer?”
“I don’t know how you’ve done it but we know it was you, only you could have set such a web in motion, but it won’t matter,” he watched his opponents eyes intently, “we’ve already set our own pawns a-play.”
Umbra's smoky eyes closed slowly as he moved the pawn in front of his king forward; “you know nothing of my plans.”
“We know everything, and you would do well to not underestimate us.” Brune set a third pawn forward two squares.
The wraith sat back in his seat, his fingers tenting as a hollow chuckle echoed from him filling the room with a chilling hiss of a laugh. “You see the thing about an intelligent person is the moves we telegraph are not always the move to try to counter; when you do things right, no one will ever know you did anything at all.” He waved his hand and his piece they called the Right-hand on his side of the board slowly slid across the squares with a glassy swishing; “check.”
Brune looked at the board, not because his king was open, and his knight and mage pieces were useless, “your powers?!”
Umbra's smile sparkled in his eyes and spoke levels of pleased.
Brune looked at him shocked, “you have no power here monster…,” he tried to stand but found himself bound in place by twists off flame that leapt up to hold him down.
Umbra stood up, the throne behind him cracking and turning black as he tore free from it, “there are always those willing to sell their soul to the devil for their piece of silver.”
It was then Brune noticed the chanting from behind him had cut off as they played, one of the ten kinetics tasked with maintaining the bindings now standing at his side, a soft smile on her chubby youthful face, her orange glowing eyes with their playful fractals dancing in their depths, a pretty face detracted only by the splash of gore that ran up her arm and along the whole left side of her neck.
Umbra came around to stand next to Brune's side of the board tipping over the white marble piece; “and the Dark Master prevails, that’s mate.”


**A Risen Bishop & A False Master**

Deep in the outer reaches of space, far beyond the edge of creation, where even the faintest trace of light from the cosmos could not reach. A lonely object hurtles through the void. A desolate ship, it travels back to the source of life, back to where it had come from. Twisted like an old oak its outer hull pulsing with sickly light, moving through the void with dreadful purpose, belching noxious gasses and toxic sludge. Energy surges across the living hull, arcs of sickly green plasma jolting now and then, igniting pockets of gas sending green-blue flames shooting outwards in flashes to be swallowed by the vacuum of space.
A true living nightmare.
Deep beneath its twisted shell the air is thick and humid, heavy with loamy scents, and the sweet smell of decay. Gathering in the halls thick mist flowing along the vine covered ground like streams of water. Overgrown as it was it seemed at first glance that you walked through a jungle, every inch covered in vines clinging tightly to the stone walls and arching ceilings. Pulses of electricity running here and there through the vines and over-ripe fruit that hung around the birthing pods. The light they cast over the halls giving an eerie green glow too the gathering that crawled beneath them.
This awakening chamber retained some of its grander before the rot set in, the corridors of the old ship it once was meant to be now lost in the tangle of strangling vines. Leraie stood over a birthing pod checking the progress of the new Ari within though, he saw only beauty. To him the tangle was not the chaos it appeared, but a carefully grown work of art, each one a lifeline to the Ari being reborn within the pods. The branches above formed hollows and nests where the viral seed huddled and hissed like gargoyles. Each area had been coaxed to grow how the Ari wanted it, designed first to be pleasing to the eye, beauty and nature at it’s heart, that place where all life begins, the death of another. As time went on the viral seed’s poison seeped deeper making it a twisted macabre of its once intended form, now it was no more than a ghost of what the mirri had intended made to the liking of its new Ari masters.
Through the vast halls a hollow peel rings out in the distance as a horn plays its mournful call; droning on and on from the depths of the ship. Those that worked tending the pods stopped and followed the call. The viral-seed skittering through the mists and along the walls swarming like locust toward the grand hall, Leraie had been waiting for this, and stayed only a moment to stroke the pod he tended before following the Seed.
The Seed always avoided the awoken, they heeded their command, yes, but fear was the forcing factor to their subservience. The seed moved in perfect unison and flowed around him and the few other risen who walked toward the grand hall. They were fascinating creatures to say the least, a plant that looked like a man, their skeletal appearance hiding tremendous strength. Fearsome looking faces like some bird of prey, and their small luminous eyes that seemed to look at nothing, but saw everything. But these seed were not normal ones, the virus that flowed in him had changed them too, once so much larger and a hand stronger, these viral were so much faster and made harder to kill.
Deep in the void, Leraie had floated through space, for eons, he had taken forms now and than but always his kind were hunted down. Time meant nothing to the eternal soul, and when caught he had merely fled to another host; before long it was all he knew. The itch of another’s body wrapped around him like greasy filth, always the stench of some others body, it was enough to make him retch. That was till they found the viral seed, their soulless bodies made excellent hosts, made them strong. Made him whole, physically perfect, he even could use his powers again which he had never been able to while in other hosts.
The greatest gift of this body, was to at last be reunited with his beloved, Leraie walked into the cathedral and into her arms where she waited for him, a place for them held especially by Bai’Bahram himself. Others, his wife included had wondered at this, before the fall of their people Leraie had opposed Bai’Bahram to the bitter end. Eons had shown Leraie to be no different in his opinion too; but Leraie was smart, and his people had trusted him. Bai’Bahram was the first to take on his new form, Leraie saw an opportunity he could not pass up, a second chance. Though Barham was a brute; and his methods and fanaticism towards the void bordered on insanity, Leraie knew no other way.
His wife bowed to Bai'Bahram as they passed him, their mighty lord raising his hand in a half gesture of greeting. It was not something he took much stock in it seemed, the pleasantries of his lessers Leraie assumed, even he could not argue against him any more, not now they had the voids gift. Once he had thought it absurd, but after they had been stripped of their bodies and merged with the aether of the source his argument seemed so small, even he a stoic believer in science had seen the way, felt the Void in all its glory. After that nothing else had mattered, that is till now. Now Leraie saw his purpose, he would be there for Bai'Bahram, and guide him as best he could to the cleansing of the cosmos.
Each rotation of the ships core saw new brothers and sisters awake, and each rotation they were greeted by the voice of their Lord Commander.
The first teachings of the Void.
This day was no different and as always Leraie, with his wife in arm, awaited the teachings of their faith. A hush fell over those assembled, even the seed quieted down as Bai’Bahram stood up from his throne. It was time for his sermon to the reborn, his voice like a canyon echo, deep, and powerful, as the moving earth.

"In the beginning there was nothing, not a single atom in all of the endless cosmos. There was only the Void, expanding out filling the inky black nothingness with its essence, it was energy beyond imagining; nothingness beyond comprehension.
One day all peace for the Void was destroyed.
A tear appeared, the first rift of Creation; and from this rift poured life, and light. It stretched out across the Void in all directions and as it gathered here and there more life was begat.
Creation rose from the rift and took root, from this energy. It was too much for the Void, filling the peaceful nothing with overwhelming light.
The Void was endless, but Creation was limitless.
The power of Life was chaotic and noisy and the Void did not appreciate it, but Creation was proud of it. And so the two often were at odds. In time the Void came to think, if Creation could make what it pleases with life, so too could the Void. And so a new life was born made of Creations life and the Voids will. Life and Will formed new beings, all manner of things came of this union. Most cherished of all were the Eternal. In them the Void came to see what it was, that Creation too, saw within life. And for a time Creation and Void nurtured these beings together. Creating life and watching it's will be done. And so life flourished and itself became more and Creations power grew.
Soon these beings began to praise the life they had, and gave thanks to Creation. The Void saw this and was angry, for it too had played its part in the beginning. It was within the Void that Creation had found the slate upon which to cast life.
So the Void shook loose a drop of power and gave new meaning to life, by giving it a means to end. To see that all that was taken would be returned. And so it was that day and night fell upon life, and they knew joy, and sorrow with it.
These new beings were the Mundane and they lived to die, they counted the days and nights and knew them numbered, and this made them hungry for more. Even the Eternal fell prey to them, for the eternal ones were arrogant of the plight upon the mundane, thinking themselves better, for surly Creation loved them more.
Creation had watched the lives of the Mundane and pitied them deeply, their hate and rage poisoned them. So in its last act to them Creation bestowed the greatest gift it could conceive. They had all that Creation could offer before them, the Mundane had little time to take of it what they wanted. And so rushed through life and took all they saw, even the lives of each other; creation itself.
Given the ability to create, and multiply. To hold the power to make life, and create what they will with it. Again Creation was praised. Having had enough of the ungratefulness of life the Void began whispering to the Mundane, sowing again the seeds of discord. Playing side against side, choosing those Mundane whose power was greatest those who heard it's will the loudest. Those with total control over the power of creation. They were named Ari and stood dominant over all, and so the Void told them take what was their birthright.
To the cosmos the Ari flew taking the power of the Eternals for themselves. With this they cleansed the impure, and punished those who did not bow. But not all the Ari were loyal and deceit spoke through them to dissuade those they could. They gathered the weak and fled to the holds of unholy gods and broke the true Ari in their quest for dominance.
Victory is without its lessons learnt for the defeated. We Ari returned to the Void, and were shown its greater plans for us, to be made new.
Born again of the Void, its will, made life.
Energy eternal. Power beyond imagination.
LIFE ETERNAL."

All those who had voice cried out in joy, a cacophony of hissing grinding shouts in reverence. "LIFE ETERNAL."
Again Bai'Bahram intoned to them the faith of the Void, "always and forever, LIFE FROM THE VOID!"
Those gathered called back to him, "LIFE, TOO, THE VOID!"
Bai’Bahram stood back and looked to his council. Leraie watched him as well as the four to have risen with him, called the Pale Ones; even Leraie felt a pang of hope, and knew in his core they would save their people.
Bai’Bahram beckoned over his shoulder and Leraie stepped up to hear him, "those mewling low breeds in the expanse think themselves safe.”
Leraie bowed, “they do my Bahram. Already they bicker amongst themselves; squabbling over the lost bits of our power.”
Bai'Bahram nodded slowly, “so let us add to the discord my brothers and sisters." They sat back down, Bai’Bahram taking his thrown surveying the ranks of those who had been reborn, and all the twisted creatures that gathered under his command. Row by row they knelt before him, slamming fist to chest in deafening chorus, they were his loyal, the Ari race would rise again.
"BAI’BAHRAM, BAI’BAHRAM, BAI’BAHRAM!
-End of Prologue-