The Millennium Paladin Chronicles

The Templar nodded. "Always. Nemesis has been making a nuisance of himself lately - almost took over the whole Council before I stopped him."

He shook his head again. "With all these private army-wielding, world domination-obsessed megalomaniacs running around, I sometimes wonder if the Scourge is really the threat I should be worrying about."

"You know Temp, I haven't really heard much about the Scourge. Who or what are they?" responded Kura.

"Heh. I'd be pleasantly surprised if you had; then you could tell me. As far as who and what they are, it'd be nice if we knew, frankly."

Simon took a deep, sighing breath. "Take my advice. Don't fight a war against an enemy you know nothing about if you can help it. You don't make a hell of a lot of progress killing subordinates by the hundreds while the enemy's general staff stays hidden somewhere pulling the strings and manages to outthink you fifty percent of the time."

Mykal snapped out of his fixation.

"I'm sorry Simon. Guess you've been around me long enough to know what my facial expressions mean which is scary."

A small grin played across his face.

"But I agree with your assessment. In order to be successful against an opponent, it's wise to know thy enemy. Which is why I want to do some more research on the Fir Bolg's. Specifically that trip that brought them to the U.S. and the power behind transforming them into what they are now because that's the real threat."

TKK.

One keystroke took him to a screen that flashed with two empty fields on a dark blue background waiting for a username and password to access the Paragon University Library database. Because of the kind of activity that transpired in Paragon City, there was information here that was not in any other university in the world. A financial contributor to the university's religious studies department as well as a honorary professor in theology and physics gave him free remote access to information that cost others money.

The only reason he received such privileged treatment was because of his money. He wasn't stupid. Though his scientific views were respected to a large degree, a good portion of the faculty didn't like him. He was an anomaly with influence. Black. A genius. A scientist. A Christian.

He never fell in step with the majority of the scientific community who were agnostics at best. All of his research in his short thirty eight years on Earth did not disprove God's existence. It validated it. He taught that in His classes and they hated him for it. Some more than others. That didn't bother him much because he wasn't trying to win a popularity contest. He was interested in spreading the Truth.

TKK, TKK...TKK, TKK, TKK...

Typing in his name and password, the screen instantly came alive with the home page and fields to perform a search on specific information.

"I have a feeling that I'll get some preliminary information here at the university."

Simon grinned beside himself, though neither Mykal or Kura could see it beneath his helmet. During the day, he was Associate Professor of History Thorstengaard, and he got the sense of where Twelve was going. PCU's staff was eclectic, to say the least, and the history department was no exception. Fortunately for Simon, he was eclectic enough himself to get along very well with his fellow professors, even the ones who'd been teaching there for longer than he'd been alive.

Despite only having been there for just over a year, Simon had been able to dig enough to hear some rumblings about Mykal Tannan. Most of the professors didn't like him much, if at all - however, he knew of at least one eccentric old codger who had a fairly good opinion of him, and Simon was in fairly good with said old codger as well.

"Well, I can help there. I believe we have a friend in common over at PCU - Doctor Gabriel Larkin. Believe it or not, he's one of the few people in this city who knows about my...extracurricular activities...and he's a closet expert in more forms of history than anyone alive in the Eastern United States. What say we pay him a visit and see what he knows about our non-human Croatoans?"

Mykal looked tat the screen in front of him intently, transfixed by the information there.

"One moment Simon. I've got something here."

The next ten minutes were spent scrolling through paragraphs of information concerning the Fir Bolgs and the Tuatha De Danaan.

The struggle between the two tribes originated from Ireland. The Fir Bolgs were there beforehand and the Tuatha De Danaan had demanded half of the land having come in later. When the Fir Bolg refused, a battle ensued which the Tuatha De Danaan won in the end. Eventually, the Fir Bolgs were diplaced to the Aran Islands.

Mykal ran his finger down the screen, simultaneously scrolling with the other hand looking for clues of their journey to the United States but could find nothing. There were no immediate records as to why the came. In addition, there wasn't even a hint as to what has transformed them into the beings they were now.

"Well," he said, pulling back from the screen and sighing. "I at least know some of the background concerning this. But it doesn't answer any of the questions that I have."

Turning from the console, he looked at Simon.

"Let's see if professor Larkin can shed a little more light on the subject."

Paragon City University was teaming with students walking from class to class in pursuit of an education that was costing a small fortune. To many, it was a haven from the shackles of their parents. For others it was a step into independence, working towards a life long dream.

Mykal saw the same thing happen year in and year out. A fair amount would waste their time, caught up in the college lifestyle of decadence and debauchery which was somehow defined as fun. They'd barely graduate if at all. More than likely drop out.

When he was that age, he was working on his second PHD, his first one acquired in physics at the age of seventeen. He was, of course, not the normal seventeen year old. Back then he always had something to prove and that was that he was the smartest. He was the best. There were few who could refute the fact that he was one of the foremost minds in the world.

Back then, he looked down on all the kids who attended school with him, especially the ones who didn't take it seriously. They weren't even in his league and he was sure to let them know. His arrogant and pompous attitude was legendary. You either admired him or despised him. Most despised him.

Man....how things changed.

Mykal and Simon walked up to professor Larkin's office which was on the first floor of the Humanities building. It was formerly the red-headed stepchild of PCU as they had positioned themselves as college with a top notch Science department. They had state of the art equipment and an aggressive fundraising department that favored them. It was through the efforts of people like Mykal who gave and the re-emergence of the Midnight Squad that the Humanities had made a phenomenal comeback.

Mykal knocked on the snow glass paned door that sported professor Larkin's name in black letters.

"Come in."

Simon did something then that he rarely ever did - he removed his helmet. Tucking it under his left arm, he made a sweeping gesture at the door with his right.

"After you, illustrious leader."

He grinned at Mykal. "After all, you're the deeply-pocketed big-shot CEO, and I'm just a lowly part-time alumnist professor."

After Mykal and Simon left, Kura began to hack into Crey's files and systems, seeming to be looking for something in specific. Kura mumbles to himself, "I doubt it's here, but I might as well look anyways."

"Persistence is a virtue Kura." The Ionic Revenger says appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He looks around the Upper Room smiling then turns back to Kura with a more serious face "You seem a bit more troubled than usual, Anything I can do to help?"

Mykal cringed inside. He never understood why the Lord had chosen him to lead. He certainly had proven in the past that his attitude was not worthy of leading anyone. He knew Simon was kidding but it stilled bothered him to some degree.

Walking in through the doorway, the two of them were greeted with the smell of books and wood. The professor's office was in a section of the Steel Canyon campus that was still a part of the old wing. There was a certain stale odor that seemed to linger yet at the same time it reminded him of better days and better times. Or maybe just simpler.

Simon and Mykal saw the professor at his old oak desk pouring over volumes of books. An older man in his late sixties, his hair was the gray that was actually a mix of silver and white which was gone form the top of his head and clung desperately to the sides and back. His nose was pudgy and carried a pair of stylish glasses which he seemed to be looking over most of the time.

"Simon. Mykal. What a pleasant surprise. Please, come in, come in," he said waving them over to him.

Both of them settled into the old matching chairs that sat in front of his desk.

"So...what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? You haven't signed up for the PCU Gestapo have you?"

Though a playful smile ran across his face, there was a hint of seriousness hiding in his tone. Larkin had always been an all around likable guy and had gotten along with just about everyone. That was part of the problem. He even got along with people like Mykal and refused to choose sides or break relationships because of it. This had been a bone of contention with the current faculty and if it hadn't been for the fact that he had tenure, he would have been long gone.

Mykal never understood why the man stayed on. He could have retired and written books. A top rate historian, he had the credentials and contacts to live out life in relative peace. Yet, he endured the political wrangling at PCU because he genuinely felt it was where he was best utilized.

"Now you know me better than that professor," Mykal said, firm reassurance in his voice. "I'm a far worse pariah on this campus than you'll ever be."

Larkin nodded with a grin.

"On that point I must acquiesce."

Simon waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, the hell do these university stiffs know. If there's one thing that history shows, its that the pariahs usually end up being proven right anyhow. Galileo...Einstein...Kepler..."

He grinned widely. "Besides, people like Mykal and I beat the crap out of Gestapo types for fun in our spare time now. Hell, I could put this ugly blue helmet back on and scare the crap out of any number of pompous windbags in this place right now, and they'd never be able to pin it on anybody."

Nyte found herself lounging in the superbase, sprawled out along the top of a half-wall, ankles crossed, chin propped in the palm of a hand with one wing draped lazily over the side as she perused the classified section of the Paragon news.

Grifter was off-com and while she coud track him down she didn't really feel like it, besides it gave her an unforeseen afternoon off, and those were always welcome. Besides he'd call if he got into trouble..or atl east right before he dropped unconcious...and the superbase allowed for easy transportation to a variety of places, all her bases were covered.

Muted voices carried over from the other side of the base telling her that some of the others were at least present, singing along quietly to herself however Nyte kept to herself. While she enjoyed speaking with the others she was still relatively new to the group and didn't always feel comfortable insinuating herself into thier conversations.

Comfort like that she knew...would come in time and she wasn't to worried about it, continueing to hum along with the music coming from the earbud she had in one ear she turned her attention back to the paper, pulling out a marker to circle ads which sounded promising.

"You should try for a job with the PPD" Ionic Revenger stated as he popped into existence behind her. "I do have some pull there." He looked over the nearby equipment closely and without changing tone turned to her "I may have to be absent for awhile and in my stead you will be the most qualified healer here." Then he pauses and looks down then up to Shaide "You must be ever steadfast in your journey as a healer and make sure that the Paladins will prevail."

After he finishes he slowly fades leaving nothing but a feeling of calm.

Nyte was quite preoccupied in her singing and newspaper search when Ionic popped into the room - normally she was a tad bit more observant but being in the base had lulled her into relaxation.

So it was when his voice overrode the music she was caught unprepared, sitting up in surprise..which caused a whirlwind of motion...which caused the newspaper she'd been readig to flutter off the edge and scatter throughout the air.

"Maybe I'll give them a ring"

She stated a mental image of her last run in with PPD flitted through her mind almost as quickly as the newspaper seemed to slip through her fingers as she made a few useless attempts to snatch it out of the air before giving up andvletting them float unmolested to the ground turning her attention to Ionic.

"Of course the last time I talked to them I was apologizing for a few patrol cars that sorta got inbetween Grif and a few thugs..."

She trailed off that thought as ionic seemed to be thinking about something as he studied the equipment around them with intensity, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. She didn't have to wait long Ionic seemed to marshal his thoughts fairly quickly. She flashed him a smile of reassurence after he spoke.

"I'll take care of them.."

She promised as he faded away and though she had no idea if her heard her or not the peaceful feeling left behind seemed to say he had...or perhaps he was just happy enough to have someone else to watch over everyone while he was gone..always a healers dilema. Biting her lip slightly Nyte sighed and lept off the ledge to collect the wayward newspaper..can't be leaving trash all over the superbase now can we?

Kura decided to quit pursuing Crey, for the time being atleast, since a personal notification had popped up over the many windows he had open. Considering what he was notified of, Kura instantly went to work on upgrading the group's computer security systems.

A man known by the name of Tomoshibi Umbra walked out of Paragon City's town hall triumphantly, with a smile on his face. In his hand would be a copy of Form 27B/6, a Paragon City Super Group Registration. Umbral Enterprises, a research and development company had been born.

Kura would pull out his cellphone and attempt to call a number, however, he would not receive an answer.

What almost passed as a grin played on the corner of Mykal's mouth.

"Actually, the reason why we're here is because of the Fir Bolg and Tuatha Dennan. You see, me, Simon, and another associate name Kura had a run in with them in Croatoa recently. It prompted me to do some research and history speaks of the battle between men and women in the Ireland area, not...whatever these things are. There's no record of how they got that way or even how they got here."

Mykal leaned forward.

"Being that you're a top bar historian, I figured you might know more about this than us."

Larkin held up a finger as if a light bulb had went off in his head.

"You know, I happen to know a friend over at Oxford. He'd be a little more versed in this kind of thing. European history specialist."

He got up from his chair and looked past them at the back wall bookcase, walking and searching, inspecting with squinted eyes the titles from the spines of the books.

"Seems like I vaguely remember a reference to that in the updated edition of Paragon City: The Living City. It's an in depth history of Paragon and all it's many changes since the mid 1800s. It's on it's tenth volume now and Percy Winkley, I believe, contributed a chapter that gave an impressive and detailed account on the background of Croatoa."

His eyes scanned the fourth shelf which was eye level and stopped at a one and a half inch thick maroon book with gold lettering.

"Ah! Here we are."

Smiling from ear to ear as if he'd located some lost treasure, he took the book from the shelf and handed it to Mykal.

"Much of it may be things that you've already read. But if my memory serves me correctly, he gives several different... esoteric theories on some of the more obscure details of the area that many in academia would relegate to utter nonsense. But knowing the kind of man you are, I highly doubt that would be the case with you."

Larkin took his seat behind the desk again, a look of satisfaction painted on his face as Mykal stared down at the heavy volume in his hands. Books were his Achille's heel. He loved them. He could sit down with five books in front of him and a laptop and lose himself for a solid eight hours.

"Thank you Professor. I'll make sure to get this back to you as soon as I'm done."

Larkin waved his hand dismissively.

"Not to worry. Take as long as you like."

The two of them walked out of Larkin's office after thanking the professor for his help. Twelve was walking with his face aimed squarely down at the book in his hands, and Simon had to step around him to prevent him from drifting into the path of a half-dozen college co-eds who were in the midst of changing classes.

He glanced at Mykal's half-hidden face, quickly studying the expression as the dark-skinned man leafed through the pages with seemingly careless abandon. He smiled. "Uh-huh. I thought I recognized the utterly hopeless look of a true bookworm. I've got two whole bookcases as big as I am crammed full of 'em at home. Granted, most of 'em are science fiction novels or history books, but still..."

He replaced and resealed his armored helmet, then dropped the blue visor down over the menacing-looking blood-red eye slits, making him somewhat less intimidating. His heads-up display blinked back to life, and a targeting reticle immediately showed him the most expedient way through the mingling crowd to the nearest exit. "So, where does the book suggest we go next?"

Mykal barely acknowledged Simon's inquiry, already flipping through the pages past what he already knew.

The Fir Bolg, or the etymology which was commonly considered to mean "mean of bags", were rulers of Ireland at the time it was known as Eiru. It was said that they had been enslaved by the Greeks and had finally effected an escape from their bonds, sailing across the sea to their destination. They ruled Ireland for 37 years until the Tuatha De Danaan came and conquered them, exiling them to the outer Aran Islands. Up until that point, the legends had all pretty much concurred the same thing. It's what happened after this the legends diverged dramatically.

Mykal scanned the hall way and spotted a small bench under a window. Hurrying over to it, he sat down and eyed the pages that Percy Winkle had authored.

Two main theories were given.

[ QUOTE ]
Many more Fir Bolgs had tried to escape from their Greek captors but half of them were lost at sea, ending up in what is now known as Salamanca. Embracing their fate, they settled the area and made good of the land.


Overseas, the Tuatha De Dannan had formed a radical group devoted to imperialism. Through the use of divination, they discovered that their enemies found other lands and set out to conquer that area also.


However, unlike the battle in Ireland, this one was not so decisive. It was long, brutal, and bloody, each side resorting to all kinds of heinous acts for victory: child sacrifice, necromancy, and witchcraft.

[/ QUOTE ]

Mykal shook his head.

"Lord have mercy."

The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked.

[ QUOTE ]
At the height of the conflict during what was dubbed simply as The Great Battle, an unknown sorcerer from the Tuatha De Dannan cast a spell which he was unable to maintain. The forces went wildly out of control, engulfing everyone on the battlefield and in the land, shifting it out of sync with this reality. The land was once more silent and unoccupied.

[/ QUOTE ]

Mykal looked intently at the pages, resting his chin in his hand.