Yes, I'm back! After an agonizing three minutes! This, ladies and gentlemen, is Blackrazor, the sequel to Bonedevil. It's basically a massive crossover between every D&D setting in existance, with a healthy dollop of H.P. Lovecraft thrown in--enjoy!

Disclaimer: Dungeons & Dragons, the Living Greyhawk, Forgotten Realms, and Eberron campaign settings, and all spells, items, persons, and locales depicted therein are © 2001-2004 by Wizards of the Coast and Hasbro, inc. Azathoth, Cthulhu, and all related abominations are © 1920s and onward by H.P. Lovecraft and others. All other persons depicted in this work are my original creations, as are all events depicted in this work. This novella is a work of fiction. Any similarity with actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

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Forgotten Relic

6694 CY

Jonathanas Darkstar had won.

Less than five minutes ago, he had slain the one who had massacred his family, the monster who had murdered his wife and son: the dark warrior known only as Bonedevil.

Now, the elven warrior-mage stood at the rim of White Plume Mountain, holding Bonedevil's weapon--the sword called Blackrazor. This vile blade had destroyed all he knew and loved, devouring their souls and consigning them to oblivion. With its creator and wielder dead, the black soul-eater had gone dormant--and Jonathanas meant to ensure that it stayed that way.

As he held the evil artifact over the bubbling pit of lava, his thoughts drifted to the last moments of his battle against Bonedevil. The mad hobgoblin had come within seconds of slaying Darkstar, but one impossible dodge by Jonathanas had allowed him to deliver the final blow.

But even as he lay dying, cut in half at the waist and coughing up blood, the deranged sorcerer had still lashed out verbally at Jonathanas, claiming to have forced himself on Roselenna. Jonathanas had stabbed him in the heart, but Bonedevil still taunted him, only ceasing when Darkstar had hacked him to pieces.

Jonathanas tore his mind from the scene, the crazed laughter of Bonedevil still echoing in his ears. The monster was dead now--he lay in the crater where Castle Greyhawk had stood, reduced to a bloody pulp by Jonathanas's fury.

The sword, however, posed a completely different problem--Blackrazor was an artifact, and could only be destroyed by one method, chosen by Bonedevil at the time of its creation. Without that secret, Jonathanas could not even scratch the vile sword--but he could imprison it.

Before Bonedevil had recreated it, Blackrazor had been a minor magic item. A band of heroes had destroyed the original Blackrazor thousands of years ago, by dropping it into this very volcano. Now, it would serve as a fitting prison for the resurrected abomination.

Jonathanas dropped the blade into the roiling magma. As the sword fell below the surface, the molten rock darkened and cooled, the energy draining into the artifact. In moments, the entire volcano was rendered dormant, locking Blackrazor in a tomb of obsidian almost a mile thick.

When the last wisps of steam had finally dissipated in the air, Jonathanas turned away from the crater, threw back his head, and screamed.

All the pain, rage, and loss he had suffered in the last week channeled itself into a shriek of pure, primal agony. All the magical energy he possessed was discharged in a column of brilliant, white light that encircled his body and shot skyward, illuminating the entire continent with a horrible, blinding glow. Huge storm clouds appeared from a clear night sky, and rained torrents of acid down on anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside. Thunder boomed, and huge, jagged bolts of lightning lanced down, incinerating anything that could burn. The colossal storm raged on, becoming more fearsome with every passing minute. Titanic waves swept entire cities out to sea. Vast tornadoes drew in anything that was not bolted down, and much that was. Great fissures opened in the ground, and gouts of flame issued forth. Nothing and no one was safe--entire nations were obliterated by the fury of Jonathanas Darkstar.

Finally, the storm died down. Jonathanas lowered his head, and looked into the pool of volcanic glass.

His clothes were tattered, and covered in glowing blood. His sword was rusted in two places, where he had deflected bolts of negative energy fired from Blackrazor. He himself was mostly unharmed, except for a cut across the inside of each knee. But it was none of these that made him stare at his reflection in horror--his eyes were utterly black, as dark as the void between stars.

Shrugging, Jonathanas turned away from the black mirror. He would first collect Roselenna's body, and give her a decent burial, then depart for his own final resting place. Now, however, he needed to rest--only at his full power could he hope to survive in the Far Realm.