A mysterious heirloom sends Grey to a mysterious other world. This boy must unlock the hidden purpose of the Nexus and why the inhabitants of this strange new place will stop at nothing to secure it for themselves.

In a chance meeting two travellers brought together by a fated storm sit together, where the tale of one bearing The Mark is told...

A standalone figure watched above, away from the frantics of the busy street. He turned his hooded head over, to where his shadowy face was finally visible. His red pupils shifted from one crowd to another, his mouth twitching, in the ice cold rain. His sleek hand rubbed off the hood, as his he concentrated, on the ocean of commotion, brought on by the humans.

One late night one would find her on a journey, already 7 miles from her home.. Tucked between two tree trunks, Jadis gazed out at the moonlight field. It shone like silver, so bright against the dark bachround of the forest. She looked also towards the speckled sky, the stars looked like glitterthrown by a child onto black paper. It was a beutiful night, but the darkness held secrets.

[Ahh yes. Time to take my interest in WWII to the next level. WWIII!]

Death. Some would say it has no smell, but Alec would beg to differ. He'd been surrounded in it for two years now. If asked to describe the smell, he would say "Burning bodies, blood, and gunpowder." Most would suggest he get out of this line of work, but it was all he knew. It was all he had.

The world is in great danger. Evil forces have obtained The Core, a power source strong enough to fuel D-3, the Doom's Day Device, enslaving the planet to its controller's will. A brave few stand in their way, heroes of unmatched virtue and strength. They must save the day. After all, it's what those in capes do best.

There was once a village to the west of a mountain where a witch lived. The witch would cast spells to protect the village and the island it was on. Yes, she was a good witch, until the day of which a dragon was born.

That dragon was the Hellcross dragon...it was known throughout the world because of its savage nature and its evil-binding call. The witch tried to stop the dragon from rampaging towards the island, but instead was cut by its poisonous tail, making her sick and frail so that she could not defend against the poison, and allowing it to take over her body and turn her purely evil.

The king has been overthrown. Only his royal guards, the Phalanx, know the truth and the plans of the usurper. With might, magic, and monsters at their disposal, the remaining members of the Phalanx must ascend to the throne room and stop the evil earl once and for all in this Battling Dragons story.

"What do you think you're doing, Chip?" Jethro scolded at the familiar face entering through the opened car door.

"Well, I thought you'd like some company while grabbing the pie," the skinny youth answered with too much waving of his hands.

"It's barely a drive," Jet dismissed. "I could walk there."

"Then why don't you?" countered Chip. The driver scratched his round stomach bulging out from his tee shirt stained with several days worth of food in deep meditation before shaking his head.

A rag wearing wretch tumbled across the mist laden floor. He raised his purple topped head to cast a menacing glare from under his brim. A jagged grimace was his only word to his foe.

"Accept it, old timer. You have been bested," contested the foe, a floating being who beamed with light. "For the first time in many a Rumblon, the Legendary Dairy shall not fall to your unworthy hands." It clenched a webbed, clawed, gloved fist to symbolize seizing victory.