Prologue - The Battle of Fletus
"…Ronar, Lord Hero
Struck at the Daemon
With hatred of the ages
And his hatred, like the
blade of doom
Pierced through the
Daemon's magic
The Portal swung shut
The sundering averted
And the Daemon terror was
stopped
Thus ends the glory song
Thus begins our gory
end"
- Starling the Bard,
Underground Tales, Year 998 of the Song
Whack
The corrupted Priestess strode forward with the
nonchalance of a queen at court. Her steps were surefooted, her eyes set
forward, on her target. She wore the tattered remains of an old Priesthood
robe, purple with golden embroideries. A cowl laced with Minx fur hid her face
completely.
Whack
An arrow struck at her chest and bounced backwards, as
if she was clad in some invisible armor. She kept moving, her hands woven
together, hidden in the sleeves of her robe. Arrows meant nothing to her.
Neither did the lashing rain that fell from the grey sky, nor did the howling
wind. Such trivialities did not bother one such as her.
Whack
Another arrow hit her, to no effect. She stopped and
eyed the shooter. An Elf, she saw, one of the beautiful creatures of light from
the east. The being was magnificent, standing nearly 7 feet tall, its ivory skin
glistening, reflecting the light of the raging fires. Its hair was golden,
braided and falling down to its waist. The face was thin but not gaunt, the
nose small and the lips wide. Its almond-shaped eyes were deep blue. Its ears
were slightly pointed at the tip. It wore a breastplate of Trilite silver over
a full chain armor of Moonsteel. Its bow was silvery too, even the string, but
the Priestess knew it was both flexible and powerful, for it was made of
moonlight and wind and not of mere metals.
Whack
A fourth arrow bounced off her. The holy warrior was
tenacious.
She parted her hands, exposing the palm of her right
hand. At the sight of her skin, the Elf froze. Her hand was grey, like the skin
of an ancient, well preserved mummy. Her fingernails were long, curved like
talons, their color the sickening yellowish color of old bones. She raised her
open palm, in a mock imitation of a blessing gesture.
The Elf fell down lifeless. There was no flash. There
was no sound. There were no arcane symbols, no magic spells invoked. The
corrupted Priestess raised her hand and death swept down upon the heavenly
creature.
The Priestess lowered her hand and then pointed at the
corpse.
"Rise!" she commanded, "serve the will
of the Death Lord".
The corpse sat up, looking around.
"Obey," the Priestess commanded, "Bring
death to the enemies of the Death Lord!"
The corpse stood up. It bowed to the Priestess and
turned away, obeying her command. Before long, the Priestess knew, this
Newly-Dead will fire its arrows upon those who, until its very timely death,
were its allies. For the corpse had no will of its own, no mind to guide it.
The muscles still functioned, yes, but the mind had died and the soul has fled
the body. The Priestess was its will now.
At length the Priestess found herself reaching the
heart of the melee. In the morning, this has been a green clearing at the heart
of the forest. Now, it was grey, ashen. Flames and acid rained from the
heavens, and dark clouds fired lightning as both sides called their magic to
aid them in battle.
There, at the heart of the carnage, stood Vadaelin,
last of the Immortals. To the eyes of a human, she would've looked like a mere
woman, nondescript in all meanings of the word. The Priestess though, saw
through the illusion. To her, the enemy was a shining torch of power, of
near-infinite vitality. The last of the Immortals did not fight herself. Her
kind always viewed themselves as above such actions as warring. It was nothing
short of the utmost urgency of this situation that forced her to appear on this
battlefield. She was there to coordinate, to command, to land guidance… but not
to fight. No. She had others to do the fighting for her. The three Skylords
themselves, Thundax and Rokall and Borealis the Beautiful, stood between her
and the waves of dead that the Lord of Death unleashed upon his enemies.
Thundax waved lighting in his hand like a greatsword. Rokall's giant paws held
the trunk of a tree like a massive polehammer. And the hands of Borealis were
empty, her fine long fingers weaving and drawing the runes of power in the air
before her, showering the unholy with heavenly light that burned them like
fire. Thundax stood like a massive breakwater. He waved his lighting hither,
throwing three vampires in the air, then waved it yon, destroying a band of
ghosts as they approached. Rokall was howling like an animal, his snout open
and slavering at the carnage. His four arms raised the tree trunk above his
head and brought it down upon the skull of a bone dragon, splintering it and
breaking the spell that held the bones together. Borealis called a spell of
prismatic light, causing a sphere of colorful lights to emanate from her body,
burning the swarm of Haunts that clawed and clamored for her. Her giant wings
waved once, creating a gust of wind that pushed the dead away.
There was no more room for throwing in pawns. It was
time for the main pieces to move in. The priestess raised her hands and
pointed.
Runes flashed, wrenching Borealis's spell of prismatic
light from her, concentrating the light into a long lance and sending it
against the Skylord.
Borealis raised her hand, absorbing the lance as it
hit her palm, taking a step back but remaining strong. She started calling
another spell but then had to use her wings to leap over as the ground opened
its mouth beneath her.
Kai Marvel, the Black Warlock, flashed a maniacal
smile towards Borealis as she cast another spell, this time calling a shower of
fiery rocks to strike down the Skylord. Borealis created a shield of magic
around her to deflect the attack. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead.
The Lady of Life glared at Kai Marvel, calling forth the life force of a world
teeming with life to power her strike. Her entire body glowed with power. For a
split second, Borealis the Beautiful glowed so bright that her light could be
seen half way across the world. She clapped her hands and the pent-up energy
struck Kai Marvel.
The Black Warlock was one of the most powerful
spellcasters the world has ever given birth to. She raised a wall of her dark
magic to protect her. It was like counting on a breakwater to save one from a
tsunami. The magic drowned the defensive spell, washed over Kai, hunting down
every corrupted cell in her body, purifying them. The effect was akin to that
of a balloon full of the flammable gasses meeting a spark. There was an almost
inaudible whoomph sound and Kai's ashes were spread into the wind. The
energy continued washing the battlefield, a tide of life-force that purified
the unholy dead roaming the land, releasing them from their grotesque mockery
of life. The undead were powerless to defend against it.
All but one.
The lights washed over the creature Kate, Dread
Champion of the Death Lord. Her grey, dead skin, was stretched over a thin,
lean body. Her gentle face still carried a shade of the beauty she had in life.
She seemed small, gentle, soft. But the spells of Borealis bounced off her,
like the arrows of the Elf bounced off the unholy aura of the Priestess. Kate's
power was not in her body, the preserved hulk that carried her essence. Her
power welled from within, from a heart that was drained of blood while still
beating, from a soul that was trapped in the body for all eternity. Her eyes
were two dilapidated grey orbs, but in them glinted the malevolent power of the
Death Lord himself.
She strode forward with the unerring single-mindedness
of an arrow fired from a bow.
Rokall brought his massive staff down on the Dread
Champion. Kate made no attempt to dodge, raised no arm to defend herself. The
tree hit her uncovered head with the power of an avalanche. Bark and splinters
of wood went flying all around. Rokall eyed the remains of the tree in awe and
sudden terror.
The creature Kate was standing where it was,
completely untouched by the Skylord's attack. With a single snaking motion, the
Dread Champion struck forward with a dagger so small it would serve as only a
pinprick to the Skylord.
Rokall fell back, his paws clawing at his furry chest,
where the tiny hole began smoldering, emitting puffs of rancid black smoke.
Quickly, like a swarm of locusts, the rot spread in the Skylord's body. Within
seconds, the fur fell in chunks, yellow puss and blackened dead blood flowing
from a thousand cracks in the skin. Rokall fell to the ground, whimpered once
and became silent. The Lord of the Growth has surrendered to decay.
Thundax hurled his lighting at the creature Kate,
knocking the Dread Champion off her feet. The Lord of Air was upon her in an
instant. He knocked the cursed dagger out of her hand and brought his arms down
to smite her. The body of the creature Kate was driven 20 feet into the ashen
ground by the attack, leaving the Skylord standing atop her open grave.
Thundax roared, lightning dancing at his fingertips.
"Come before me ice and hail and sleet and
thunderclap and smite this abomination!" he called, summoning forth the
strength of his magic.
The priestess stepped forward, catching the Skylord's
attention.
"Come forth death, decay, famine, fear, drought,
pestilence, war, hatred, single-mindedness!" she commanded in response.
It was as if time stopped. Across the battlefield the
two combatants stared at each other. For a moment that lasted all of eternity
they stood frozen.
Thundax moved first. His hands made a rolling motion,
as if packing all his magical powers into a single tight snowball.
"Divus Tempestas Vox Solaria!" he
invoked and hurled the spell at the Priestess.
The Priestess extended both palms, as if pushing
something away. Two beams of sickening grey glow were thrown from her open
palms, hurled at the Skylord's ball of magic.
Magic and Death met with a blinding eruption of
darkness that lasted for a long moment. As the collision of forces abated, the
Priestess and the Skylord stood stock still. Then, with the same slow movement
of a falling tree, Thundax came crashing down, his majestic body fizzling into
green, acrid goo.
Now Borealis stood alone before the Priestess. Knowing
that the need was urgent, that the battle stood in the balance, the Lady of
Life closed her fair-feathered wings around her body and called out an
incantation
"Vitalis Aurum Lucis Eterna!" she
commanded and launched into an ululating magical chant.
A globe of golden light sprang and grew around her,
Light so vital, so powerful, that even the Priestess was struck with paralysis.
The Golden Everlight of Life had the power to rob all creatures of their will,
to wipe all minds clean. The power overwhelmed the Priestess. She could feel it
seeping into her corrupted body, seeking the roots of her existence to tear
them apart. If the Lady of Life's chant would reach its end, the Priestess
would be undone.
A grey, dead hand punched through the wings, pushing
past the snowy-white feathers and grabbing Borealis by her throat.
The creature Kate had no mind to be wiped, no will to
be robbed. The Dread Champion's will was the Death Lord himself and he was not
affected by the Everlight.
Kate's fingers closed on the thin neck, constricting
Borealis and choking the mystic chant out of her.
As the chant died, so did the Everlight.
Kate pressed downwards, forcing Borealis down to her
knees. The Priestess, no longer paralyzed, joined the Dread Champion, looming
over the gasping Skylord.
"So it ends," she said, crouching in front
of Borealis. She clasped the Skylord's shoulders in her hands, in what would
have seemed like a friendly grasp. Kate released the neck, grasping Borealis by
her hair instead, forcing the Lady of Life to open her eyes and gaze directly
into the eyes of the Priestess. Borealis opened her eyes and her eyeballs of
molten golden flame were fixed forward in terror. The Priestess hid her head
inside the cover of a cowl, but the Skylord saw into the darkness and what she
saw was an infinite abyss.
Frozen, paralyzed in terror, she could do nothing to
prevent what came next. The Priestess smiled at her ensnared victim, exposing
two elongated fangs, sharp as needles, glistening with evil essence.
"Join us!" she hissed and her head struck
forward, her fangs plunging into the Skylord's neck.
At last, the corruption compelled Vadaelin into
action. The last of the Immortals raised her hands and shouted
"Enough!"
The sound reverberated like a thunderclap, sending the
Priestess reeling.
"You must stop!" Vadaelin commanded.
Grapevines sprouted from the ground, gripping the
Priestess by her ankles. At Vadaelin's command, they pulled the abomination
down on her back, where more vines gripped and pinned her arms to the ground.
"You have done much harm, Hex," Vadaelin
said, "but your terror shall not be allowed to continue".
The Priestess growled and snarled, fighting against
the vines. Alas, no amount of force could pull or break their hold. She lay
thrashing, helpless to stop Vadaelin.
"Let pain from holy flames cleanse the spirit
from this corrupted existence!" the last of the Immortals said,
Blessed Thornwhip vines flourished around, joining the
magical grapevines. They crawled over the Priestess's body, entangling her
forehead, wrists, ankles. The Priestess howled in agony as the thorns broke
through her deadened skin, causing red burns of holiness.
Kate charged at Vadaelin, her hands sent forward to
throttle the last of the Immortals.
"S-T-O-P!" Vadaelin commanded.
The Dread Champion froze on her track, unable to move.
The wails of the Priestess grew.
"Yes, Hex," Vadaelin said, "your
corruption cannot save you now. All your evil is unraveling before you".
She gestured and blue magic fire burned its way down
Kate's dead body, incinerating the Dread Champion.
"This isn't over," the Priestess snarled
through clenched teeth, "you may be invulnerable to my powers, but now
comes my Lord, my Lord which you have unleashed upon this world in your
foolishness".
Vadaelin spun around and raised a shield of pure light
just in time to stop an arrow. The bowman, she saw, was young man, his flesh
grey and dead like that of the Newly-Dead that were swarming the battlefield.
But life, intelligence, hateful purpose shone in his eyes, eyes that were the
color of squalid bog water.
"Ronar," Vadaelin fell to her knees,
"stop! I beg of you!"
The Lord of Death stepped forward, knocking another
arrow into his bow.
"It is you who brought me to this world," he
said, his voice the cold slithering whisper of one who needs no air, "you
wished me to combat your enemies, to destroy the Daemon. So I shall. So I
shall. Why do you wish to stop me, Vadaelin the meddler? Is it not what you
have desired? Is it not what you have kidnapped me for?"
The last of the Immortals shuddered at the venomous
hatred.
"I deserve your anger," she admitted,
"I was wrong to bring you to this world without permission. I was wrong to
hide the truth from you. Please, stop. I'll send you home, I promise. Right
here and now".
"And what of the Daemon?" the Death Lord hissed, "that which
nothing of this world can harm? You will still need an outworldly power to stop
him. I cannot honorably abandon this world to the Daemon and his horde, can
I?"
"I hoped you would restore peace, sanity!"
The last of the Immortals whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Now
you would throw the world into despair and death. You would not rid the world
of the Daemon's menace. You will replace it with your own! Please, turn back
from this path".
"No!" Ronar pulled the string back, readying
the arrow and aiming at the last of the Immortals. "This world is mine,
Vadaelin".
"Then I shall stop you!" She stood back up.
Streams of bright blue flames erupted from her hands, lunging at the Death
Lord.
Unworried, Ronar let loose his arrow, whispering words
of magic as the arrow went flying. In flight, the arrow transformed, becoming
insubstantial like fog. The yellowish fog arrow passed right through the
Immortal's magic shields and struck at her chest, sending her flying backwards.
Vadaelin fell on her back, whimpering in pain, the arrow stuck above her left
breast.
Her consciousness was dimming fast. Pain, unlike
anything the Immortal has ever felt, paralyzed her body, penetrated her
essence.
The last thing she saw was the hateful face of the
Death Lord. He crouched next to her, looked into her pleading eyes and smiled.
"It would seem," he said, "that like
the rest of your kind, you are not immortal after all, Vadaelin".
.JPG)
