The Manipulator is the key to life, that which drives the Game forward, for in the scheme of things nothing is its own, but rather part of a plan. Sitting quietly within the garden, the Manipulator looks at the ornate board in a pensive trance, attempting to configure the Game to an advantage. Where to make the proper move? How to win the Game effectively?

Hesitating, the Manipulator moves the Subservient, the weak and meager piece that may only offer some aid if used carefully and correctly. The plan is a risk, the end of all things if foiled. Awaiting the Opponent's response, the Manipulator smiles faintly, as the events fall into place, and the critical domino takes its fall:

The Quisalar says, "I will begin immediatly."

You twirl about, laughing gaily.

You nod your head emphatically.

A powerful male voice shouts, "Come on, it's a good experience for a person to have! Join the rite!"
<Side note: Favourable was the timing that the Heart was summoned when the Church was conducting a Rite of Prayer.>
The Quisalar closes his eyes and begins to chant.

The Quisalar raises his hands above his head, his eyes still closed, and you begin to see a faint shimmering of energy pass back and forth between them.

A nimbus of black, purple energy begins to surround The Quisalar.

The Quisalar opens his eyes, turns toward one of his cultist followers, and throws his arms forward.

The three Quisalis cultists begin to writhe and dance about the clearing, chanting in a low, rythmic monotone.

The dark purple energy seems to form into a fist, and penetrates the chest of the cultist, ripping the heart from his body.

Avenging Angelfire arrives from the west.

Angelfire utters a deep rumbling laugh at the Quisalar.

You bow respectfully to Angelfire.

As the heart floats in the air, held by a shimmering, translucent fist, the Quisalar seems to intensify his concentration, and the heart begins to grow.

The Heart seems to return to life as it grows...now it is the size of a cat, now of a large dog...*thump thump thump thump* it beats.

The Prophet Averroes shouts, "Do you feel it...something is happening!!!!!!!"

Growing ever larger, until it is nearly ten feet in diameter, the beating of the Heart becomes louder and louder.

You tell Mistral Blue, of the Mists and Shadows, "Get the fighters and get to Quisalar NOW...we need to defend him."

Death's Heart descends, resting on a golden disc of pure light.

The sound of a beating heart, seemingly magnified by 100 times fills your consciousness.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

Pryla'ka, a Priestess of Life shouts, "Noooooo!!!!! Please, by all that is living and good!"

The Quisalar seems to return to the present, his eyes alight with victory.

The golden light surrounding the heart flickers and transmutes into a sickly purplish radiance which pulses in time with the beating of Death's Heart.

You see the Quisalar shout, "The Heart is constructed!"

From here on a squadron from the Church came, and began to attack the Quisalar. Mistral's army followed closely, ready in arms. Thus began the bloodiest battle I have ever witnessed, and my eyes feasted upon the blood and gore that I had partaken in. Though before me, with swords slashing and whips cracking, I saw not mortals, nor beings with a cause. Instead, I saw playable pieces, each one only living up to where they are moved. Do the controlling factors really care what pieces are taken during the Game? Does the end justify the means? Each piece does have a heart, a soul, an individual meaning and beauty that should not be lost for sake of a Game. Protectors or not, it is our choice how we live.

The Manipulator sits back, and relaxes, happy with the one turn of play, waiting to see what move to be played next.

Xephlite Traike

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Ero, in the year 241 AF.