The Lords of the Magistone!

[SkyGinge]

So I figured it was time enough that I rewrite my Magistone saga properly, instead of the easy option script form that I usually pursue. I normally begin writing things like this and lose interest swiftly, thinking it's naff. But this time I am actually very proud and it is inspiring me to write a heck of a lot more! Anyhow, yes, this is the same universe as the one my good RP was based off of. You'll even recognise some of the characters as well. But finally you will get to see the story as it originally was, the twists that I had planned, the battles, the action and the characters. And hopefully you'll have as much fun reading it as I did writing it! So, enjoy!

If you do read this, any kind of feedback would be gladly appreciated, even if it's just "It's really good!" or "I don't like it".

Chapter One

His footsteps slammed against the dusty earth with crunchy clomps, his emerald cape fluttering in the wind behind him. Behind him: the fearsome howls of some kind of demonic creature. Around him: a dense forest of untouched luscious browns and greens. Inside him: the intense willpower that is the animalistic survival nature of a human being.

So just a normal day in my life then.

The boy ran on, his clothes smeared with stains of grass, mud and bark, his sapphire trousers rugged and his fraying jacket old. His heart races: the hunt is the ultimate thrill ride, even for the prey. He cautions a glance backwards and ploughs onwards. The pack of monsters behind him, dogs perhaps, charged like a brigade of cavalry, yapping, growling, licking their mangy smeary lips. In the darkening evening of the great woods the boy knew that he had nowhere to hide, nowhere to run to for refuge. Despite his greatest efforts, he knew that unless he were to stumble upon something extremely fortunate he would end up like the thousands before him: a true dogs dinner.

Then luck struck and smiling, the boy changed direction. In a clearing of pure, springy grass stood a wooden hut, probably an old hermit’s place. The old pine walls were beginning to rot but the sturdy doorway looked like a much more appealing destination than the inside of a hell-hound’s digestive system. Making a last ditch dash to run above the hoards behind him, the boy made it to the house and flung the door open. In his mind it felt wrong leaping into a strangers house unwelcome, but given the circumstances he knew full well that the chances were the owner of the house was long dead.

With all the dexterity that he had used to open the door, the boy proceeded to slam shut it again, a mild sprinkling of sawdust splintering from the hinges. Leaning heavily against the doorway, the boy gulped down heavy breaths of air, closing his eyes in thought. The door slammed against his back. The old pine door creaked and winced against his back as on the other side the hell-hounds crashed and smashed. In this brief semi-peace, the boy took his options into question.

Well. This is a nice situation, he thought, sarcastic of course. I should’ve known it would end like this. Me, a weird old hut and a pack of evil un-dead beasts. So much for the great resistance. I couldn’t resist an apple strudel!

Once again, the door lurched forwards on its hinges, the creaks becoming more painful and the door crying out in greater amplitude with every hit. The boy clung on for dear life, his teeth clenched and his face tensed. He was a reasonable man: he knew that his weak muscles and thin bones would only allow him to hold out for a short while longer. With a particularly loud hit, a globule of slimy dark matter squeezed through a newly forming crack in the centre of the door, the boy going the extra mile to avoid it. Until finally, his weary frame could hold no more.

The door shattered in an explosion of chipped wood and shadowy mutts, the boy sent flying to the hard floor of the tiny downstairs, his head jerking awkwardly as he made contact, the hood of his precious cloak flopping down to reveal a wild fiery mass of bright ginger hair. He was used to the fight though: he had braced himself and minimised what little injury he had sustained. The mutts, perhaps confused for a moment, stared blankly at the bare wood walls, somehow missing their fallen prey. Whoever owned this house must’ve been very poor, the boy thought, somehow finding time to debate quizzical matters in a moment of intense danger. But he was right: it was literally only a couple of meters from the door through the bare space to the stairs, which were already starting to fall apart.

Oh. Well, never mind my pacifistic approach. It’s time for some fighting.

With a lick of their lips as their senses returned, the dogs leapt as a collective towards him but, with a rapid turn, the boy thrust his hand forward, a manoeuvre that, in our world at least and given the circumstances, appeared like an odd and pointless gesture. But the boy, a confident smile creeping onto his face, clearly knew what he was doing. As his hand rose, a large gust of wind buffeted the skyward dogs through the weakened wood of the front wall, the building miraculously staying up. In was no coincidence. As some people would say, it was magic!

His handy push had only served to give him a little time to unsheathe his true weapon, his left hand locating an oak wood sheath patterned with ancient inscriptions. As the great sword was pulled from its home, a pair of sharpened wings unfurled from the angelic blade to raise it to its majestic glory: perhaps it truly was at home slaying these hellish beasts. The hellish beasts that now leapt once again, wave after wave like a storm at sea. With precise footwork and sometimes acrobatics, the ginger haired boy slashed and twirled, the light blade ripping through the blotchy dark flesh of the shadow beasts. Now that he was surrounded by them, he saw full well their ugly skin, a mass of vile greys and blacks swirling like a whirlpool of waste. He smelt their repugnant reek: the foul stench of death. Each successful hit cut deep into what little distinguishable face the creatures possessed, but painless, they carried on, overwhelming him and forcing him against the wall, their pride causing them to snarl and sneer instead of fighting for the final strike, the ultimate prize. Fear in his mysterious jade eyes, the boy held out his sword defensively and prepared to go down fighting.

Smash!

The unmistakable sound of smashing glass pierced the woodland serenity that had already been scoured by the dark creatures. The leading hound fell to the floor, propelled by something small yet forceful: a bullet. In the moment of panic, several more dogs fall to the floor, their lifeless dark bodies swiftly evaporating into putrid clouds of black matter. With an even greater smash, a human figure leapt through the window to protect his friend. A wild grin on his handsome face, the new man unleashed a fresh flurry of bullets into their attackers, the beasts briefly retreating behind the shadowy smog that used to be their allies.

Cocking his head cockily, his likeable roguish smirk wide, the newcomer announced: “Looks like somebody couldn’t take care of themselves!”. His voice was rough and untamed, wild with arrogant emotion. His large muscles rippled a little as he reloaded his rifle with fresh pellets. For a moment, the ginger boy felt very weak in comparison.

“I was coping well enough, thank you,” his voice surprisingly deep for his friendly features yet intoxicatingly entrancing, like a Celtic melody. From over his shorter but chunkier friend’s shoulder he spotted the bravest of the hellhounds charging again and flicked his wrist upwards, another draft of wind magic forcing them back. That was one thing he had over him in frame anyway: he outsized his rifle wielding ally. The pair of them worked on without even observing their actions.

The muscular newcomer laughed, a short barking huff. “No offence,” he began, of course indicating the offence to follow, “but you look like a right master of “coping well”, Sky.”

“Oh shut up,” the ginger boy smiled bashfully. “And please don’t call me Sky. I’m Skyre. Sky is the female counterpart. It’s a girls name.”

“Aye, and it suits you well,” the chunky man snorted, extending his arms to shoot a nearby dog in the fashion that he would reach for another drink at the village tavern. Perhaps now he was letting his guard down a little too much though, as the dog brigade leapt through the mist once more.

Expressions suddenly hardened, Skyre yelled, “Drake! Watch out!” Thinking on his feet, he swept his hand around to create a stream of wind that carried up the gunman’s discarded bullets and scattered them into the wave of new beasts, felling them all. Now it was his turn to be cocky. “And who’s saving who now?” Nothing from Drake. “It’s nice to hear a wonderful witty comeback there.”

Now focused, the pair stopped their banter and backed away from the shattered doorway, more and more beasts arriving to the scene. “There’s no end to these guys,” Drake exclaimed, voice loud as always, “I think we gotta split!”

“Yes, the Shadow King’s goons are hot on our trail as always,” muttered Skyre, distant for a brief moment. Then, turning, he lead Drake up the creaking stairs, the old wood wincing beneath them. They stopped at a wall halfway up, the beasts finally breaking their confusion and starting to traverse the hall.

“Wall?” he asked vaguely, but Drake understood, the sounds of his rapid gunshot cracking through the air as a large part of the wall was swiftly dispatched. He knew better than to argue with Skyre when it came to orders. His crazy plans had saved their hides enough time before for him to trust his partners unnatural schemes. Keeping up that ultimate trust wasn’t going to be easy this time though, and the whimpering house finally started to give way, shaking as bits of the old roof rained down on the ground in front of them.

“This ain’t gonna hold,” said Drake, master of observation. “Think you could fly us out of here with your handy wind magic?”

“I’ll need more magic energy,” Skyre said.

“You what?”

“Just get me a potion please.”

“Right.” Message understood, Drake opened the weary pack on his friends back, the ginger boy scaring the unnerved hounds away with his beautiful winged blade. When the potion had been located, the gunman handed it over, Skyre quickly downing it, carefully placing the empty bottle in a compartment in his long cloak.

“Reduce, reuse, recycle,” he muttered under his breath, his older friend waiting with his arms wrapped around him. Skyre extended one of his long arms to inside his wild hair, retrieving a pair of goggles that he slotted over his eyes. The dogs began yapping loudly, and the entire hut swayed.

With an almighty upward thrust of his arms, a huge gust of wind lifted the pair high into the air, far away from the hut with thrilling cries. The shadow dogs were left alone in the shattered remains of the hut, barking and howling to the empty space, desperately searching for their lost prey. But it had broken away from the chase. You might have said that they really had to fly.

[SkyGinge]

There's 20-something views at the time of this posting, so I know at least some of you doods have read this. Please, leave me a comment, it shows your appreciation and I desperately desire feedback. Thanks!

Chapter Two

Ever since he had been young, Skyre had dreamt of what it would be like to be one with the clouds.

Even as a small child, he could be found in the long fields that surrounded his village atop some dramatic rocky outcrop lying face up, staring into the clear skies as his fellow youngsters played energetic games around him. He would follow the distant outlines of birds as they drifted through the skyline, intently examining their journey. He had hoped that one day he would come across a friendly eagle or the like, who could let him soar into the skies.

When he was seven his father, a quiet but intelligent man who shared his bright hair, had gifted him a pet robin. He had cherished it as more of a friend than his classmates, making it an expansive cage and treating it with delicacies such as worms and blackberries. In the morning he’d watch it glide about the village huts, and in the evening he’d dream of an alternate world where people were replaced by birds, flying eternally. When the other kids would tease him for being quiet, he was find his peace in the serenity of the sky.

Perhaps that’s why he decided to take up wind magic and travel miles from his humble abode to the capital city of their island, the island of Valia. Aliak, the great walled city amongst a crown of mountains, with its figure head buildings at each of its hexagonal corners, the five colourful universities of magic and of course, the Castle of Light, the home of the King himself. It was a greatly different place to his home in the central hills, with streets upon streets upon streets of identical compact buildings, the narrow roads connecting them bustling with people going about their daily business. He had marched through the great golden gates and immediately been greeted by several salesman behind bright attractive stalls, beckoning him in with rare foodstuffs and exotic craftsmanship. Had he not been intelligent enough to save his money he would have already have collected enough gifts to decorate his university suite.

Study was hard and tiring, the deep analysis and sudden weighty information hitting hard on him, his lax experiences of his small village school a complete contrast. It was only in the middle of his third and final year that he actually achieved his dream of flying.

“Today’s lesson is called; ‘The Manipulation of One’s Body through Controlled Wind Magic”, his teacher had announced, an owl-like man named Professor Karlon, with his choice of title an over-complicated term that made the lesson sound a lot more boring than it was, or at least in Skyre’s opinion. The group of them had gone out to the surrounding fields owned by the university and learnt how one can use wind magic to alter physical traits, such as boosting speed and agility, or even flying. He had laughed in awe as he lifted himself up into the air of the first time, daring to reach out and prod a low mountain cloud. It was soft and puffy, like an airy cushion. Of course, it had taken him much longer to master it but it long remained a personal high time for him.

Yet still, having done it multiple times before, Skyre felt the same exhilaration and ultimate freedom as he and Drake continued their escape flight over the dense shrubbery beneath them. For Drake, the new experience was a thrill ride like no other in their medieval glade. He screamed joyfully as they dipped beneath thick clouds, and caught his breath as the rushed back up.

“Hey, that was a cool escape,” he found the word to speak at last, his grin so wide it almost spread off his face and extended to his neck. “Can we escape from collapsing building like this more often?”

“I’d rather not find myself in a collapsing building at all, to be honest,” Skyre said, focussed on providing the air to keep them afloat. “And this is a high energy-consuming task, I’ll have you know.”

“Magic energy?” Drake asked.

“Of course.”

“Huh,” Drake responded, not understanding. “Well, when will we be falling down to earth?”

“Oh, I’d say round about now,” Skyre smiled sneakily, his voice calm. And quite suddenly, the pair were plucked from the sky.

~

It would have been a funny sight to see, two young men plummeting from the sky. As they fell, Drake flailed like a poor fish ensnared in a fishers net, but Skyre remained stationery, eyes closed, calm as always. The contrast was remarkable. Of course, from the ground you’d be hard pressed to spot anything at all, thanks to the compact grouping of trees that ran for miles and miles, save for the odd dusty clearing. Drake had never imagined that he would end life like a lemming, falling to a grisly end because of a friends energy oversight.

But as they scraped through the leafy cushion of the treetops, Skyre extended both arms downwards, a bed of wind bringing them softly to the ground, Drake landing face first and his magic friend landing in a dramatic crouch.

“You see,” the magician whispered, already getting to his feet, “I saved just enough energy for a safe landing.

“Skyre!” Drake scowled, his climb to two feet a lot less graceful, “You gotta tell me when you’re gonna pull a stunt like that! You almost scared my balls off!”

But Skyre was already off, walking purposefully into the woods. Drake sighed, and trudged heavily up to his pace. “Where were you?” the ginger boy asked.

“Oh right,” Drake nodded, “I was getting our meal for the night!”

“Mhmm. I didn’t know there were invisible rabbits in this forest.” Skyre muttered, still not turning his face. Drake knew his partners comment was in jest, but sometimes he wished his friend wouldn’t be so critical of him.

“Alright wise guy, let me sort that real quick,” he muttered, pausing for a second as Skyre disappeared into the woods in front of them. The dim evening sunlight cast many shadows around them, and his spiky haired outline cast an impressive figure.

Silence, something Drake found hard to create. But he managed it now, ears pricked intently. Overhead, a lone bird screeched, its final mistake as Drake, rapidly wheeling on his toes, aimed skyward and shattered the silence. Gazing upwards, hand over eyes, he took two steps forward and collected his prize: the fallen pheasant.

Catching back up to his friend, he asked, “This edible enough for you?” Skyre stopped, turned back and smiled.

“What were you actually doing earlier whilst I was playing prey to hellhounds?”

“I told you,” Drake grinned back, “Looking for food. I may have failed just a little bit, but I wasn’t gonna chase some rabbit when I realised you were in trouble. Anyhow, I did find something pretty neat that I gotta show you.”

“Go on.” Drake raised both eyebrows, and then briskly changed direction, his march containing the intent and direction that Skyre’s had lacked. Now it was the magicians turn to play follow the leader.

~

About half an hour later, the pair of them reached a small clearing amongst a more sparse section of trees. Punctuating the flatness was another house, this one much better kept, although lacking whatever inspired architecture the fallen hermits hut had had.

“Is this it?” Skyre said, doing well to hide just how tired he was. He wasn’t fit enough to go off trekking so often. Yet he still wanted to assert his control over his muscular friend, in a friendly way of course. A gentle breeze carried up his cape, the fabric blowing majestically behind him. He liked that feeling. It made him feel powerful, important. Now taking the time to actual examine their location, he exclaimed, “Oh, you found us a new resting place. Good idea.”

“Thank you!” Drake beamed, his huge hands resting on his large knees.

“However,” Skyre continued, now teasing, “if you had stayed with me when we first saw that old place then we may have not had to destroy it.”

“Oi, shut up you,” Drake grunted, playfully, “Anyway, I don’t remember being attacked when I found this one though. That’s a first, I swear it.”

“You say that every time Drake, but thanks all the same. At least we can get some rest.” Skyre finally complemented his friend. Inside he had been doing so all along, especially when the gunman had rushed to his aide earlier. But he wasn’t one for expressing feelings and intentions. Smiling to his feet, he advanced towards the house but behind him, Drake remained, arm outstretched as if he was feeling some kind of invisible wall.

“Hey, Skyre. There’s something here!” He indicated with a wide stretch. “Feels all airy like.”

“That’ll be air then, probably.” Skyre smirked, and Drake sighed, knowing that his friend would go on to explain properly. “I would presumed that it is the barrier of a magic zone.”

“A magic zone.”

“That’s what I said,” Skyre affirmed and then, seeing his friends blank expression, continued. “Magic zones are concentrated bubbles of magic energy, although I’m not sure if that’ll mean anything to you at all. Essentially their remnants, footsteps left by the mages of the olden days. Their perfectly harmless, protective in fact. However, they do indicate something of negativity for us though.” He stopped, and turned to the house. Drake was surprised that he had spoken for so long, but was pleasantly content, the sound of his partner’s voice being very easy listening. “The presence of a magic zone would suggest that this is an old mages hut, which is not so good. The mages of old tended to rig their houses with hoards of booby traps. I don’t know whether they had a mutual distaste of robbery or what, I guess their magical relics would have been considered valuable before magic studies became widespread. Anyhow, for safety reasons I’d suggest that we don’t go into the house in this poor light. We can search it in the morning. Now, lets find some firewood and finally settled down for the night.”

Monologue finished, he turned rapidly and trumped off into the woods, leaving Drake still fiddling around with the airy barriers of the magic zone. He hadn’t heard a word.

[thatguyinthecorner]

Sort of late so I'm too tired to read it all right now, but I'm sure it'll be great~

And if you want, feel free to use Kelsey and Ash-hell, I'd be honored. :P

EDIT: False alarm, read it. And I'd like to say that Drake's introduction, and the dialogue in general, was hilarious. Keep it up~

[SkyGinge]

Cheers Guy! :D

[Jack Augustine]

And feel free to use Jack. I'd rejoin the RP, if it were more active. :/

[SkyGinge]

There's a point near the end where there's a sudden influx of new characters and I may include your characters then. How did you find the story so far Loud (long time no see, hello!)?

[Pastaa~Chao]

Since I'm back for good, I wish I could post in the RP again. But it's dead. :( Feel free to use my character, though.

[SkyGinge]

Yay! And I'm considering a minor reboot seeing as you, Guy, Loud and presumably others like Molly are still interested. How do you like the story so far? :)

[Pastaa~Chao]

I think it's great! What I especially like is the pacing. It's not too fast and not too slow, and it's easy to go right into the flow. There's a lot of action which draws the reader in, and the character chemistry is really entertaining.

[SkyGinge]

:D Thank you very much!

Unfortunately I am extremely busy at the moment with school stress, activities, an interesting writing oppertunity and a heck of a lot of other stuff so I'm not progressing very fast with this. Hopefully I can find more time soon.

[Pastaa~Chao]

Ah, I understand. I'm under school stress too. I know it won't be too much for you, SG. You're a smart guy and you know what you're doing. I'm sure you'll be fine. I look forward to your next update, when you have the time to make one.

[thatguyinthecorner]

T'is understandable, school is...school.

And this is pretty hard to lose interest in, not going to lie.

[SkyGinge]

Aw, you two are too strongk kind. I'll try to get another it done to it since the next chapter is fairly short (or at least should be). After being amazed at a youth theatre performance of A Clockwork Orange, I'm also inspired to do a very dark play, so expect that too.

[SkyGinge]

The flames danced like the old palace entertainers, swirling and twirling, watched by a pair of clouded unemotional eyes. Skyre stared deep into the flickering fire, unmoving, thoughtful. The light shone on his bony face, illuminating his cheekbones. In the silence of the dark rural evening, you could almost hear his mind cogs whirring. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Drake, thoroughly bored, glanced around their makeshift campfire, glum. Occasionally he would lift one of the dusty pebbles from the clearing ground and chuck it someplace. Man, he wished that his friend was a little more talkative. He wished that his younger companion would have as greater need for conversation as he did. He turned to glare blankly at their dirty plates, fresh from the nights small filling.

“Skyre,” he said at last, his rough voice breaking through the sheet of silence like paper, “I don’t think I ever asked you. What did you do before… well, before…”

“Before the end of the world?” Skyre smiled grimly, unmoved from his staring. “I was training to be a fully fledged magician. I was actually lodging in the castle of light itself.”

“Oh really?” Drake’s eyes lit up. “So you saw the king a lot then?” Skyre nodded.

“Almost every day.”

Drake pressed on knowledgeably. “And you were there when…” This time Skyre looked up, his eyes hardened. His solemn nod was answer enough.

“Yes. I was in the castle when it happened.”

“You were very lucky to survive then mate.” Drake exhaled, concerned.

“As were you,” Skyre sighed, succinct. His thin eyes widened with emotion, and Drake got the impression that he might talk for hours now. “You know, I often wonder what I could have done against the Shadow King had I finished my training, had I became a fully fledged magician.” He sighed again. “It’s a rather futile thought, isn’t it? What could one man do against a nation felling monster like him? I suppose I probably broke a few otherworldly laws even by surviving.”

“Dude, not as many rules broken as me.” Drake grinned, a little proud. “Laws, restrictions, anything of the sort. To me it’s all a load of balls spouted from some posho on a bling chair.”

“Surely you preferred the white king, Lyram, to this, this Shadow King?” replied Skyre, amused.

“I’d have to be a loon to prefer this nutjob,” Drake retorted. “But that don’t change the fact that I hate rules.”

“I suppose that’s why you became an outlaw then.” Skyre’s prying eyes stared into Drake’s soul, and the outlaw shifted, matching his glance. He had suddenly tensed, uneasy, perhaps deep in painful thought. Skyre hadn’t intended to harm him; he had merely reiterated what he already knew. Drake’s mouth opened like a clam, and then promptly shut again.

“Let’s give it a rest for today,” he announced, finally, getting up. “I’ll take first watch.

“I thought you said that,” Skyre smiled distantly, his cheeks brimming red with power.

“’course.”

Wrapping himself in his long cloak, Skyre lay down on the solid clearing earth. It wasn’t much of a bed, but it would do. They’d certainly slept in much worst places. Most nights they hadn’t slept at all. Once again, he sighed, his eyes turning wistful once more and his lecture voice creeping up.

“You know Drake, sometimes I want to just find a safe recluse and hide, living our days out in peace and away from this chaos. But we can’t, can we. We can never give up hope.”

“Nah,” Drake relaxed, glad his friend’s friendlier side was back. “We must go on, for our people, for the thousands that fell. We have to avenge the dead.” For a moment, the simple Drake appeared surprisingly valiant, but then he said, “Even though we ain’t half a clue on how to go about doing it.”

Facing away, Skyre smiled. That was the right answer. Although he didn’t often show it, he had a great deal of respect and admiration for his buff partner. Maybe those thoughts of admiration were what caused his eyebrows to do the concentration jig as he settled off to sleep.

Briefly, Drake watched him, listening through the darkness to the sounds of his soft breathing. Then he returned to throwing his stones, the pebbles plinking and plonking as they bounced across the solid ground. His muscular hands flexed and un-flexed with each grabbing motion. Consumed by boredom, his eyes suddenly noticed a larger pebble at the side of the house. Ain’t that place supposed to be booby trapped or something? Drake thought, unnaturally cautious. Then he shook his head. Stuff that. I’m a man, I can take care of my self. Still uneasy, he crept over and quickly snatched the pebble. For a brief moment he remained deathly still, expecting something to jump out at him. When it didn’t, he scampered back to the fireside to examine his catch.

Light, round, yet heavy enough to be fun to throw. He smiled, tossing it from hand to hand. His smile suddenly switched to a violent snarl has he catapulted the poor pebble at catastrophic speeds towards the deep woods where is would inevitably land amongst the roots and undergrowth. But then, something peculiar happened. The stone stopped altogether, floating motionless midair and quite blatantly disobeying the laws of physics. Drake was puzzled. Stones ain’t meant to do that!

Curious, he approached the stone and gave it a tug, and in the process pulled it away from some kind of momentum keeping it in place. Suddenly a heart-starting echoing screech decimated the silence of the forest, so much so that Drake dived for shelter and covered his ears. And as quickly and surprisingly as it had began, the noise subsided. Sighing in relief, Drake checked his companion and found, to his relief, that he had not woken up his friend.

Forgetting the whole measly business, he leant wearily on the butt of his gun and promptly fell asleep, his guard duties completely forgotten along with the memories of the ominous screech.

[thatguyinthecorner]

STONES AREN'T MEANT TO DO THAT!
Even though there are at least two magic schools devoted to stuff that would allow it, CLEARLY IT SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN!

And that scream!


I have no idea what all that was, but great chapter~ although the Stuff that. I’m a man, I can take care of my self. Still uneasy, he crept over and quickly snatched the pebble part feels like it should have lost the italics at Still. Or was that intentional?

[SkyGinge]

No, it should have lost the italics. Woops! Anyhow thanks! It's not really a new chapter as such, rather and extension of chapter 2 seeing as it was two small and irrelevant to fit in elsewhere.