The Brotherhood of the Prophecy were holed up deep inside their fortress-monastery as a storm raged outside, lashing out at those that laid siege to their stronghold. The Nine, the leaders of the Brotherhood, gathered in the highest of rooms, dressed one and all in black robes and hoods.<br/><br/>“All our work will be lost. All those years wasted! They will surely offer quarter for women and children. We must act now!” One of them hissed.<br/><br/>“Yes! We must pass our knowledge onto one of the innocent. The prophecy – its secrets – needs to survive even if we do not.” One of the others added.<br/><br/>“And our disciples still live, gone to ground in this time of danger. Though we shall perish our Brotherhood will survive.”<br/><br/>“But such knowledge in the wrong hands could prove fatal, against out wishes.” Another said, this one gifted with more sense than the others.<br/><br/>“Aye. That is true.” The others silenced as this one spoke, clearly the leader of the Nine. “That is why we must hide this prophecy in such a manner that only those of our Brotherhood can decipher it.”<br/><br/>“A Raelstrom?” The words brought hisses from the others, who shrank back at hearing such a word. The leader simply nods his head. “A Raelstrom!”  Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the monastery fortress to its very foundations. “And who do you have in mind, Balthasar?” The one who spoke had long been an opponent of their leader, Balthasar, in more than one matter.<br/><br/>“A girl, one of our own. Young enough not to have been corrupted, old enough to bear the pain. Young enough not to understand the importance, old enough that she will not question us.” Balthasar says, slipping his hands into opposite sleeves. “I have selected her already and she waits in the Chamber of Sacrifice. We will convene there in thirty minutes, long enough for you all to prepare as you must.”<br/><br/>A shuffling of feet as they all move towards the doorway, their thoughts varied but all understanding of the great task that they were about to undertake. It was the only way they could preserve their lifelong work in face of the forces that assaulted them.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>“Konrad, what I am about to pass on to you is of the most important nature. The survival of the Brotherhood and the work of our life-long quest depends on you and your remembrance of what I am about to tell you. You must also not pass this information on to anyone else either. Do you understand?” Balthasar spoke to a boy of about 10 years of age, dressed in simple, peasant clothes.<br/><br/>“Yes, Master. I understand.” The boy says. He is extremely calm given the situation. The floor shakes when the occasional rocks slams into the walls, launched from afar by a besieging catapult or trebuchet.<br/><br/>“Good. You remember your lessons well. There is a girl – one of our own – who will have the Prophecy transcribed into her skin. Our attackers have granted quarter to Women and Children, as the Prophecy stated, and this is the only way for our work and our Brotherhood to survive. They will think that they have killed the beast when I fact that have simply cut of its head – its body still survives.” He pauses as, the trebuchets falling silent. “When you have come of age you are to reestablish the Brotherhood and seek out this girl. The Prophecy will appear as a tattoo of intricate work and detail on her back, but you will possess the secret of deciphering it. There will be many who will seek out this Prophecy and you must prevent them for doing so. Is this clear?”<br/><br/>The boy nods his head, his fist clenching as he tries to control his nerves. This was a large burden for a boy his age. He had been trained from the age of 5 in the ways of the Brotherhood, of the Prophecy they sought, of various methods of sacrifice. He had recently begun learning how to fight, though the Legions of the Light had brought that to an end when they had arrived at this mountain retreat, laying siege to the Brotherhood of the Prophecy.<br/><br/>“I understand, Master. What am I to do when I find the girl and decipher the Prophecy?”<br/><br/>Balthasar smiles, ruffling the boy’s hair in a seldom seen sign of affection. “It will reveal itself to you, Konrad. Come, it is time for you to depart with the others. Do not let anyone know you are my disciple or that you work for the Brotherhood. Your survival is paramount – without you my life’s work will<br/>have been for nothing.”<br/><br/>“I understand, Master. I shall continue the Brotherhood in your absence.” It was really all too much for Konrad. He had been schooled in many things, but he was still too young to fully understand that which was being asked of him. Balthasar had always been a father to him – his real parents having perished – and Balthasar had made him his disciple, albeit without the knowledge or consent of the rest of the Nine. No one, save Balthasar and Konrad, knew of this Master-Student relationship. The door opened and a soldier entered.<br/><br/>“Sir, it is time for the women and children to leave.”<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Konrad, orphaned once more, walked amongst the other women and children, leaving the place that had been his home for so many years. He walked with his head down, looking sorrowful, but he wasn’t. His mind was afire with the knowledge that had been passed onto him – through years of training and his last conversation with Balthasar. He was lost in thought even as he was loaded onto a wagon with other ‘refugees’ that would take them out of the mountains and back into more civilized lands.<br/><br/>Little did he realize how much the events of the day would shape his life, nor could he expect what was to happen to him over the course of the next dozen of years.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Balthasar watched the small convoy of women and children depart from the monastery-fortress. He was one of the Nine and gifted with magical powers. All of them felt drained after the ceremony in which they wove the Prophecy onto a young girls back in the form of a tattoo. It was laced with magic and had nearly killed two of the Nine to complete. But it was done, as he knew it would be. As long as he had known about this day, he wished that there had been more time. Just as Konrad was heading out to face his destiny, Balthasar was reaching the end of his. Shortly after the last of the refugees had passed from site, the trebuchets and catapults resumed their deadly task, each blow shaking the walls.<br/><br/>A cheer rose up from the ranks of the besiegers as a wall crumbled, providing an opening into the monastery-fortress, dazed defenders stumbling away from the collapse. Balthasar turned, adjusting his robes, clutching his War-Staff in hand. Fifty. The number echoed into his head. He would kill fifty of them before they overpowered him.<br/><br/>A door crashed open, besiegers pouring into the hall in front of him. Fire crackled from his outstretched arm, lacing into the ranks of those who would fulfill his destiny. But he was already drained, fatigued. Their numbers were overwhelming and his staff became his main weapon. They had orders to capture him, he knew, and they soon overpowered him as they swept around him. A pummel to his temple brought darkness to his world.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The trial was held in the courtyard of the monastery. Calling it a Trial was being too kind. The Nine and their closest Disciples were stripped naked before an Inquisition. They were flogged and beaten; their skin was peeled from their backs, their thumbnails pulled from their fingers. All in the name of Justice. Some cried, some pleaded, telling the Grand Inquisitor exactly what he wanted to hear. But no one could make Balthasar cry out in pain. He gritted his teeth but his mind was elsewhere.<br/><br/>The vast libraries of the Brotherhood were set on fire. The Nine and their disciples were chained to pillars inside. Most were too weak to even stand and slumped against their bonds. Only Balthasar stood tall, chin raised, murmuring prayer to his Gods. Only Balthasar remained silent, even as fire consumed those around him, melting his own flesh from his body before it consumed him too.<br/><br/>Thus did the Brotherhood of the Prophecy come to its demise…or so it was thought. Recall, if you will, the young boy named Konrad Roht, the last Disciple of Balthasar, who had escaped amongst the refugees…<br/>