Hail and well met, Lords and Ladies of Krynn! I greet you from my studies on Krynn, where I have been for the last several months. Forgive my absence from Britannia recently, but I have had the most wonderful opportunity to study our guild's history through an apprenticeship under Astinus of Palanthas. Working with the great historian has been an extraordinary experience, and has allowed me to focus on our guild's historical record in more depth and detail than I had previously thought possible. More to come on that at a later date.
In my research I uncovered a rather lengthy volume on the Lords of Krynn edited by none other than Lord Pirvan (former guildmaster, for those of you too new to the guild to remember him). The work was bound in leather and signed by Pirvan himself, including a lengthy introduction handwritten on the first blank page. It is my great honor and pleasure, therefore, to re-release one of the original Lords of Krynn roleplays, titled Deception, Betrayal, and Courage, the story of the return of Lord Soth. This is the first chapter of that story. Although Pirvan has more recently fallen from favor in the LoK due to his attempted sabotage of the guild (by using the classic "if-I-can't-have-it-my-way-then-nobody-can" tactic), I had to include his introduction. He expresses many of the observations and feelings I have had while editing the roleplays. I hope you can all receive his thoughts in the spirit in which they were originally written, the product of a brighter day in his life with LoK.
In this first chapter we see the return of Soth and how his return was received. There are (as Pirvan explains below) several new characters in this story, some introduced for the very first time. For those of you not very familiar with the early-to-mid history of the guild, I hope you will enjoy watching the development of these characters. Also recorded in this chapter is the apparent demise of a famous kenderkin, Lord Dor (though I have yet to confirm this, since his name is mentioned so prominently in Pirvan's introduction). I would like to collect stories of adventures prior to what is presented here, such as those which occurred in Neverwinter. If anyone has any recollections of those days, by all means please write them down and send them my way.
Two administrative notes: I have reverted to spelling Talmorr with two r's, since the bulk of this document was so written. In former releases of the roleplay I used three r's because most of the postings had that many. If someone could straighten me out on this simple matter, I would appreciate it. I'm sure Lord Talmorr/r would appreciate it as well, so that he can be remembered properly. Also, I have encountered an unusual word and would like to be sure it was just poor spelling, not an actual word. Lord Navrip refers to his efforts to uncover LoK activity as "scrying." I replaced this with the word "spying," because I assumed that was what he meant. If anyone is aware that scrying is a real word, please let me know so I can correct it.
As always, I must thank the people who related these stories to others, so we all might enjoy them and never forget their heroic deeds. Thanks also to Lord Connor, who encouraged me to search further into our history to look for this epic tale of Lord Soth. Of course any errors in this record are Pirvan's, not mine, as I simply edited for grammar and clarity based on his work. If any glaring errors are found, please let me know.
Until we meet again, my dear friends, at the Inn of the Last Home.
Cleric Theobald
Guild Scribe, Lords of Krynn
Apprentice to Astinus of Palanthas
***
Deception, Betrayal, and Courage
by
The Lords of Krynn
Greetings everybody. I'm Pirvan, the friendly RP editor of the Lords Of Krynn. On the suggestion of our own and very lovable Dor the Dorknob, I've decided to add an intro to this magnificent piece of writing.
When I first started editing the RP, I never realized how daunting the task would be. This "150+ page monstrosity," as Dor called it, was just that. Actually, it's a 203 page monstrosity now. I started at the top. It was the beginning of the RP, Lord Soth's opening (he seems to do that a lot lately). Well, Soth's writing was just how I had envisioned the final product. All I had to do was fix some punctuation and capitalization and that section was done. Then I hit the "interesting" writing. Misspelled words, long paragraphs with no punctuation, capitalizations in the middle of sentences. I instantly thought, "Oh no, it's gonna take forever!" Well, I began.
To pass the monotony of checking spelling and punctuation, I began to read the RP. That was when the greatness of the work hit me. Never before in my experience have I run across something like this. A story, written separately by at least 20 different people, all collected into a single document. Never could a single writer have such diversity or ideas and experiences to draw upon. From Soth's interview in the Abyss with Takhisis, to Dark Legion's "betrayal," to Evil's attack, to Navrip's falling, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. I'm sure I'm biased, seeing as how I wrote much of it, but I still love it.
I'd like to thank a few people here. While I can't mention everyone who contributed to the RP (there are simply too many), there are a few who specifically stand out in my mind. Lord Soth, Dark Legion, Talmorr, Connor, and Oakbow; you all are great writers and have brought a lot of inspiration to the RP. Without you guys, we wouldn't have an RP to begin with. Silverwind, Nicodarious, Kianne, Unari, and Tinalanthalaxius; as the new recruits it was probably the hardest for you to join in. You're the future of LoK, and without your RP contributions the ongoing story would surely stagnate. I'd also like to thank Shirak; as former guildmaster, you made LoK the leading RP guild in Neverwinter Nights, and led it into Ultima Online. Without you, the Lords of Krynn probably wouldn't exist, and there probably would be no Lord Soth, no Talmorr, no Silverwind, and no Pirvan. Thank you for everything; may you prosper at everything you do.
Enjoy the story. I have, and I hope I will for many years to come.
Pirvan
***
Chapter 1
The Returning Darkness
Lord Soth stood before his Queen in the Abyss. Quite a while ago, she had let her General fall dead to Connor and Talmorr because she was displeased with Soth's progress on Britannia. She had recalled him to the Abyss to be personally trained by her. Ever since, the Death Knight had gone through nonstop training to better his magical and physical skills on this new world. On the world of Krynn, on the demiplane of Dread, on Toril, and for a brief time on Earth, Soth's power was almost unmatchable. Now, as he stood before his Queen, Soth felt more powerful than ever. Not a good sign for the Lords and Ladies of Krynn, not to mention the rest of Britannia.
Rise, Soth, said Takhisis' voice inside his head. Soth rose from his knee and stood before her at attention. You have done well in your training; your power exceeds that of what you have ever possessed. I will reinstate you as General of my forces if you can pass a simple test. A VERY simple test. Suddenly, before Soth stood the most beautiful elven woman he had ever seen, holding an infant in her arms. He recognized the woman at once, for it was his former wife, the one who had called down the curse on Lord Soth to eternally walk in darkness so long ago. A pain shot through Soth's chest even though there was no heart in his undead body.
The Queen watched for his reaction but saw nothing. Embrace her and your child, she said in Soth's mind, and you may journey with them to live with Paladine, peacefully and eternally in the afterlife. Together with your family, happily and forever.
Standing next to the woman and child was an old man in mouse colored robes. Paladine himself had come to the Abyss to make sure if that if Soth embraced them, Takhisis would hold true to her word. Paladine obviously wanted to do his best to make sure Soth would not lead Takhisis' forces again. Soth instantly knew this was a test of loyalty. Months ago, he would have embraced them both without a second's hesitation and freed himself of the torment endured by all undead. But the recent training had made the Death Knight colder and more evil than ever before. Now he embraced the undead life and enjoyed the power it brought him. There was no hesitation in his actions. He stepped forward toward the woman, his arms at his sides. Suddenly, Soth's right hand drew his sword and in one clean motion ran the woman through. Her eyes grew wide with pain; she was real, not an illusion. Blood flowed over the Death Knight's hand and arm. The child fell to the floor and vanished into thin air. Soth stared the woman in the eyes and watched her pain-contorted face.
"My love...how could...you?" she gasped.
Without a glint of feeling, Soth pulled up on the sword, cutting her deeper and ending her life where she stood. The body slumped to the floor and Soth stood looking down at it.
Takhisis' laughter rang throughout the Abyss. "Well done, GENERAL Soth!!!."
Leaning down, Soth gently picked the elf woman up in his arms and carried her to the old man. The old man was staring at her with a deep look of sorrow. Tears streaked down his face freely. Paladine had apparently been sure it would not end like this, or else he would never have come. Handing the woman's body to the old man, Soth said, "Warn them, old man. You warn them of what is to come. Britannia will fall to my Queen's might. I will lead the greatest force the universe has ever seen, and not you, not the Lords of Krynn, nor any elf woman is going to stop me!!!" The old man cringed for a second at the way the Death Knight spoke of the elven woman and then disappeared, weeping bitterly.
Soth knelt before his Queen and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he stood before Colonel Siege, acting General of the Knights of Takhisis while he had been away. "I have returned, Colonel. We have plans to make. And let's keep my return between you, myself, and our Queen..."
***
The day was cool but pleasant outside of the Ranger Keep. In another month spring would be here, and the harsh winter that had plagued northern Britannia would be gone. The Ranger Keep was located near Trinsic, on the southern end of the continent. The location made it a lot warmer in the winter, but it also brought rogues, highwaymen, and murderers seeking to flee the cold north. Lord Sage sat in a meadow outside of the Keep. It was not quite midday, so he had to pull his red robes tightly around him to avoid the chill of the morning. The air smelled crisp and fresh. Some of the tougher grasses had already begun to grow back, but for the most part the meadow was still waiting for spring.
Sage was concerned about the recent attacks on the Keep. They seemed much more organized than before. He wouldn't be surprised if Major Navrip himself of the Knights of Takhisis was organizing the rabble. Navrip was a fine warrior, and a powerful tactician. Anyway, it wouldn't matter who was behind it. Lord Shirak himself was coming to Britannia and if this didn't rattle Navrip, Sage didn't know what would.
A doe munched on some grass at the edge of the meadow. Sage had watched this particular doe for several days. Every time he tried to get near it, it would quickly scamper off. He didn't quite have Connor's taming skill.
He was startled out of his trance by a lone figure walking down the path towards the meadow. The figure appeared to be a man, probably a wizard. The newcomer had on grayish white robes. The man had his head down, making it impossible to see his face. At first thought, Sage thought that Shirak may have come early, but then remembered that when the guildmaster came, he would be accompanied by Tanis, that airhead Dor, and twenty other warriors. Shirak would also probably be wearing his red robes. The doe saw the man and walked right up to him. The wizard pulled something out of his cloak and fed it to the doe.
"There, little darling," the man said. It was at this time the man looked up at Sage. There was no mistaking it; the wizard was Fizban. Fizban, the old mage that most thought to be the avatar of the god Paladine, had been very active on Krynn. Fizban gave Sage a smile. "Greetings, Sage," Fizban said.
"Greetings, Ancient One," Sage said with a bow.
The old mage looked at Sage's red robes and the smile left his face. "I see that you have changed the color of your robes," the wizard said.
"I used to try and help everyone; now I know better," Sage said.
"It is not doing the impossible task that matters most; it is trying your best," Fizban remarked.
Sage turned his back to the wizard and spoke, "There were just too many evil-doers out there; I must put the safety of LoK and of myself at a higher priority. Is that why you came here--to find out why?"
"No," Fizban started. "When Shirak arrives at the Ranger Keep, you must warn him that a great evil has returned to the land. Tell him he must ready LoK, for only the weeks ahead will tell whether evil or good will triumph."
"What evil is that...?" Sage asked. When no reply came, he turned around to find nothing but the cold meadow. Fizban was gone without a trace.
***
Lord Oakbow walked through the streets of Britain. He was in search of those naggingly hard to find reagents after a hard day spent with his friends Clytemnestra, Molassar, Sage, and his Lord Shirak fighting and defeating water elementals. Though he had to admit fighting the blue beings was thrilling, it was a wet business and he had caught a cold. Sniffling in frustration at yet another herbalist having nothing to offer him but a mortar and pestle, Oakbow suddenly felt a chill run along his spine.
Something had just happened. Something not good. The hair on Oakbow's neck had gone straight up when that wind had chilled his soul, and Oakbow trusted his inner instincts. There was trouble brewing for LoK once again.
Oakbow decided he had to get these reagents now. He whipped out a bottle of his pop's brew, Oakeye's finest, and offered it to a mage for free. It was hard to sacrifice such good brew, but Oakbow could not waste any more time on these reagents. Of course the mage could not refuse free brew and gulped it down. In no time, the mage was spinning around and singing bawdy tavern songs. Oakbow politely cleared his throat and inquired kindly, "Do you have any reagents for sale, good sir?"
The drunken mage burped loudly and replied, "Of course, good lad! Take all you want! Here, here, take some more! Reagents for all! Woohoo!"
Oakbow marveled at the ability of his father's brew once more. It could even force the stingy mages to give up their reagents, which they always seemed to guard and be unwilling to sell to anybody, falsely saying they had none left. Oakbow knew they hid them somewhere, because he had once been denied by a mage who said he had none to sell, only to see a fine looking lass walk up behind him to the same mage and buy hundreds of reagents on the spot!
Happy for now to have his reagents stocked once again, Oakbow hurried to the bank where he had stored his valuable rune library. Finding his rune to the Ranger Keep, where he knew many LoKs resided, he cast the invaluable recall spell and disappeared...
***
Soth had talked to Siege in his office for awhile about the past and about what was to come. Lord Siege was under strict orders not to allow anyone to know of Soth's return and to carry on as acting General for only a short time longer. When all was decided, Soth left the temple of Takhisis secretly, knowing full well that Siege was an able bodied commander.
Soth's newest mission was one of utmost importance. Takhisis had an extremely powerful soul she was willing to release to the Knights of Takhisis. All the soul needed was a body. Soth wandered over the land of Britannia thinking of all the possibilities. A human body was no good, nor was any elven or dwarven... A new idea struck Soth and he quickly acted on it while there was still daylight. Casting the proper recall spell, Soth found himself in the middle of an ancient graveyard. Surrounded by crypts and tombs, Soth had to find the right one quickly, for the sun was going down. Soth wandered until he found the oldest crypt. Its structure aged back hundreds of years, yet the building still stood strongly. This was the resting place of Lord Midnight, one of the most ancient and powerful vampires to ever exist.
Opening the door of the crypt, Soth quickly entered and stood in the sunlight beaming through the door. Hissing noises came from the dark. "Sss...come in...come insss... We welcomesss youss. We hungerssss for yousss."
Casting a strong illumination spell, Soth boldly stepped into the crypt. The six hissing figures cowered and whined from bright light as if it pained them. Walking past them, Soth saw the massive ancient sarcophagus at the end he was looking for. Without any hesitation, Soth tore the heavy stone top from the sarcophagus. It fell to the ground and shattered. Nothing inside moved.
"Who disturbs my sleep?" asked a calm whisper.
"All you need to know is that I have come to face you, ancient one. I will take your body, for another needs it," replied Soth. Lord Midnight tore out of the open sarcophagus. His speed was unmatchable and his strength was proven when his mighty backhand sent the Death Knight across the tomb and out of its door into the daylight. Soth picked himself up and prepared to re-enter, taking a second in the sun where it was safe--or so he thought. The hissing breath behind him told him otherwise.
Lord Midnight was a vampire of the highest order; the old myths of garlic and holy water had little effect, and sunlight none at all. He was one hundred years older than the Death Knight and could be nearly as powerful. That is, before Soth had returned from the Abyss. Soth quickly turned as Midnight launched at him again. The Death Knight's left hand quickly shot forward and grasped the vampire's neck, halting him immediately in his tracks. Soth's right hand produced a wooden spike from behind his back, and the spike quickly plunged into Lord Midnight's chest. The vampire flailed about wildly in Soth's hands and eventually Soth had to let go of him for Lord Midnight was too strong. The vampire fell to the ground in his death throws and eventually lay still. As long as the head was not cut off, the body was still useable. Picking up the body, Soth headed back to the temple of Takhisis to perform the ritual.
***
Pirvan looked up from his work lain out on the desk in front of him. He pushed the papers aside, leaving the corrections for a later time. The dark specter crept over him again, leaving in its wake a cold so deep it bit even into Pirvan's godly bones. He stood up and slowly began to pace his small room. "And so it begins. The day comes sooner than I expected." Pirvan left the room, walking down the hallway towards his bedroom. As he moved briskly through the halls, he happened to glance out a window. He sighed, gazing out upon his beautiful Informatia.
My city...my beautiful city. I just hope Soth doesn't touch it, for everything he touches is destroyed. Pirvan spotted a figure floating out against the silvery backdrop of the Astral plane. Try as he might, he could not focus on the being. The only detail he could garnish was that it was humanoid, but had a jackal-shaped head. The figure promptly disappeared, but it left a nagging feeling in the back of Pirvan's mind. There were more pressing matters to attend to, however.
Pirvan reached his bedchambers and sat upon his bed. He closed his eyes for a moment of concentration. He opened up a mental link to Ion, the head of his church. "Ion," he spoke, "I know you haven't had the time you would have wished for, but the troops must be ready now. The war is close at hand. Gather the priests and Knights of the Wrong as soon as you can. Soth is going to make his move soon." Opening his eyes, Pirvan broke the mental link. A tear trickled down his face. The time of darkness is approaching. Fellow LoKs and citizens of Britannia, may whatever god you worship have mercy upon your souls...
***
Stepping outside of the Ranger Keep, Nicodarious, resident Ranger Healer, couldn't help noticing Sage looking about in both bewilderment and worry. "What seems to be the matter, Lord Sage?" he asked.
"I've just had a visitor," Sage replied. "It seems that war will once again face those of Britannia, and LoK is going to be right in the middle of it."
"I see," Nic said, nodding solemnly. "I shall go inside and inform Lord Connor that he should begin assembling the Rangers for a possible confrontation. From whence does the danger rise?" Nicodarious asked.
"I know not. That information was not given," Sage said with exasperation.
"Hmmm...nothing like being able to prepare properly," Nicodarious said ruefully. "I guess I'd better get my stock of healing reagents out." Muttering to himself, Nicodarious went inside and wondered how many were going to die this time. Connor is not going to like this, he thought.
***
The gold dragon slept peacefully until the sound began to penetrate his dreams... Awake, old one; awake for we have need of you again. Pyrite looked up as he wiped the sleep from his eyes with a taloned claw. "Hum? Wha...? Oh it's you. Where to now?" he asked the old man standing in front of him.
***
Oakbow materialized behind the corner of the Ranger Keep. Peeking around the corner of the Keep, he spotted Sage vainly attempting to tame a wild rabbit that had been terrifying the newbie countryside. Chuckling to himself, Oakbow decided he wanted to give himself a good laugh. Quietly he chanted the words to his spell. Due to the bizarre gravity on Sosaria, he felt once again the detesting freeze which always overcame him during spellcasting. Oakbow completed his spell and where he once stood there was now a chicken. Clucking wildly, Oakbow-turned-chicken charged Sage.
Sage, upon hearing the wild chicken charge, turned around with a benevolent smile upon his face. Happy to be distracted from the foul rabbit that seemed untamable to his mighty animal taming prowess, Sage decided to give this chicken a try.
Sage scooped the chicken up in his hands, secured it on his lap and began to stroke it warmly. Sage began to murmur loving sounds and to say phrases like, "I am your friend...Will you be my friend?...I am not going to hurt you...Please be my friend...Good chicken...Nice chicken...Pretty chicken...Tasty chicken...I love you, my fearless chicken..." Suddenly, the chicken could no longer take it and with a burst of laughter, Oakbow exploded onto Sage's lap. With a very non-Sage-like expletive, Sage hurled Oakbow off his lap and onto the ground. Oakbow hit the ground laughing and couldn't stop. Garbled words flew from his mouth. "Oohhh...poor chicken...I want a chicken to be my friend...Sage loves chickens...hehehahahahaha...lol...hehehehehehhe...Sage and chickens sitting in a tree...ohh...hehehehehe..."
An enormous fireball that slammed into the ground right next to Oakbow sent him flying through the air to land hard on his rump. It disrupted his laughter and made him get a hold of himself. Smiling broadly, Oakbow dusted himself off and turned to Sage. "Nice to see you here brother. Sorry about all that, but I couldn't pass up such a grand opportunity. I'm afraid I don't come here in levity, though. Something is amiss and I came seeking to speak with everyone." Oakbow caught the look in Sage's eye and knew that Sage was already aware of the trouble brewing. Oakbow fixed Sage with a serious look and said, "Tell me. What do you know?"
***
Kianne wandered the inside of the Ranger Keep restlessly. "Phah," she muttered to herself, carefully putting bags of armor, weapons, clothing, and supplies in neat order. "Who was I kidding?" She packed away the meat she'd carefully cooked and preserved, along with some bottles of wine, on a table in the corner. Fruit and bread went in a bowl nearby. The Ranger Keep was still quite a mess and in need of more furniture, but she would try to arrange it as best she could. "I didn't really like him anyway," she added, turning to survey the room. She shook her head. "Men. Look at the mess they've made!" Of course she didn't know exactly who had let the Keep get this disarrayed--there were plenty of female Rangers at this point--but it was always a joke among the women to blame the mess on the men. "How could I think I liked one?" Kianne asked herself. "That was dumb. And I didn't want to go to the stupid ball anyway."
Still, she couldn't seem to shake the image of Connor dressed in his finest after his evening of fun. Kianne was quite proud of her increased tailoring skills, and of the stock load of tailoring equipment she had gathered in her bank account--dying tubs, sewing kits, dyes, scissors, wool, thread, and yards upon yards of cloth. She would have loved to have created a delightful outfit for herself for that special night, and for him... No! Don't think like that. She paced across the room to straighten a sack of torches and a couple of candles. You've been a loner most of your life, she reminded herself. You've managed just fine on your own. Love has never swayed you. Don't let it start now. After all, the root of all evil...
Suddenly her head shot up as a flash of premonition snapped her to attention. Instantly alert, she glanced around, wondering what was amiss. The ankh around her neck swayed gently, glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window nearby.
Laughter reached her ears. Kianne frowned, then walked the few steps to the window to look out. At that moment she sensed a fireball being unleashed, but when she looked down, she saw no one but Sage and Oakbow. Oak was splitting his sides like he had drunk from the pond of the Laughing Lillypads, and Sage looked quite bemused. Kianne quickly guessed where that fireball had come from, and the moment of alarm passed. However, a strange foreboding lingered, despite the apparent lack of danger. Contemplative, she leaned her elbows on the windowsill and gazed silently into space, waiting for the premonition's meaning to reach her.
***
Connor flew through the woods, the air whishing by his face. Symphony was in rare form and Ranger Tambra rode behind a few paces. A troll had been marauding around Yew the last few days, and these Rangers meant to put a stop to it. Howling in pain, the beast whirled and lashed out, sending a shock through Connor's shield arm like a bolt of lighting. Connor saw the concern flash in Tambra's eyes and felt very strange feelings well in his chest, and for a second his mind returned to the Lady of the Green and to the mixed feelings for both.
In that second the troll struck again, breaking Connor's reverie and almost breaking his arm. Quickly his hand flew back and forth, his magic sword singing a powerful and direct song. Tambra's bow sang a complimentary song, and the troll staggered under the combined assault of the Ranger Lord and the archer Tambra.
Connor ducked to the right and drove his sword home, sending his blade to the hilt into the foul beast. With a bellow of pain and a gurgle of blood, the beast gasped his last breath and fell to the ground, the light of life quickly dying in its foul eyes. Connor turned to Tambra, "Are ye okay, lass?"
And then in that instant a blinding flash occurred, hurling them both miles apart. Tambra awoke in Britain, her mind awhirl and very disoriented. Connor was nowhere to be found.
***
In a secret glade in the depths of the woods of Britannia, Connor the Ranger Lord knelt before a sterling white unicorn akin to the one on his sword hilt. With little hesitation, Melikki, the goddess of the wood, spoke. "Connor, a great evil approaches the land, one where your Rangers will again be sorely tested. Prepare, Ranger Lord, for there are dark days ahead. Soth has returned and his power is great. For your next task, you will have to call upon all your timeless knowledge and your power of the forest itself. Do not let fear enter you heart, nor allow your feelings for those who are close to you blind your faith. Your time is now, Connor."
With those last words the voice and the unicorn were gone like the words upon the wind. Connor mounted his horse, Symphony, and began to ride nonstop toward distant Trinsic and the Rangers whom he loved and cherished, to again prepare for the battle of good versus evil.
***
Navrip rushed through the halls to his quarters. The news of Lord Soth's return had spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Knights of Takhisis. Navrip wanted to make sure that none of this information leaked out to the rest of Britannia until it was too late. Grabbing a few of his belongings, he prepared himself to make a speech in front of all the Knights under his direct command. He had already sent out runners, and he had given all the Knights present in the temple of Takhisis (which would be all of them) twenty minutes to get to the courtyard, from whence he would make his address.
His lingering lack of emotional control leaving him for the moment, Navrip hurried down the hallways. Checking the area for outside influences, then securing the area from unwanted prying with his powerful magic, Navrip was ready to begin. He stepped up to the podium and waited for the stragglers to reach their seats. He ordered the gathered Knights to be silent.
"As you may have heard," he began in his trademark metallic drone, "Lord Soth has returned to us!" The crowd burst into cheers, but they died quickly at Navrip's harsh gaze. "The time for rejoicing is NOT now! There shall be no celebrations until all of Britannia and LoK is brought to its knees and we are ruling them under our collective fist! But the most pressing matter is that we must not let the outside world know Soth has yet returned. To do so would be to flaunt a strength, which in itself is a weakness! If Soth's leadership and prowess are not expected, then we shall more surely be able to crush all opposition under our heel."
A few knights murmured in disapproval at Navrip's words. Trickery and deception were not the way of the Knights.
Navrip continued. "These orders will be followed under penalty of death, unless specifically countermanded by myself, Colonel Siege, or General Soth himself. We have trained long and hard for this day, my brave comrades. Now we shall march forth to show why the Knights of Takhisis have as their creed 'Submit or die!'"
The assembled Knights cheered as Navrip stepped down from the podium.
***
The young lass Tambra awoke, dazed and bewildered. She was lying on the shore of the river in Britain. "What happened? Where is Connor?" she whispered.
"Don't move; you have had quite a bump on the head," a gentle voice said, carrying through the ringing in her ears. Slowly opening her eyes, shielding them from the bright light, she saw an elderly grey haired man.
"Who are you? How did I get here?" she asked, struggling to speak. All of her thoughts of the last few days were a whirl in her mind. The opulence of the ball a Nujel'm, and the wonderful night with Connor at her side. The Keep being raided and stripped bare. Duncan, her beloved horse, lost to the hands of evil. And the night before, somehow, Connor had recovered Duncan and brought him back to her. But this wasn't the first time he had done something like this. He had braved the depths of Destard, naked with nothing but a dagger and a handful of reagents, to retrieve the magical bow that had been passed through generations of archers to her. And the fight with the marauding troll. "Connor! Is he okay?" she gasped through the pain in her head. She tried to sit up, remembering the fight, and then the sudden bright light. "We were fighting a troll, and suddenly there was this bright light, and then I can remember nothing more. Where is Connor?" Tambra asked. "He would not have left me here."
"Shhhh, it is okay. Connor is safe. Rest for a moment," soothed the old gentleman. "You have a long journey ahead of you, and all that you hold most dear to your heart will be threatened. Return to your brother and sisters, return to your Ranger Lord, for only together can you stand against what is to come." With those words the old kindly gentleman disappeared.
Gritting her teeth at the pain she knew was to come, Tambra got to her feet and grabbed her bow. She looked around, willing the pain to go away from her throbbing head. "This is worse than the effects of that dark ale at the ball," she grumbled, not quite forgiving Connor for the hangover she would suffer in the dungeons the next day. "I will go home. I will go to the wood I so love and to the Keep of my brothers and sisters." She slowly made her way to the wood south of Trinsic, for there she would find the Ranger Keep.
She was deeply saddened by all that she saw. A spirited young Ranger, she was at one with the wood, with a deep passion for all that was good and true. It had been a mild winter, and spring was in the air, but there were no new buds or leaves on the trees. The herbs she usually gathered for healing could not be found. Last autumn the game had been plentiful; now there was nothing. Villagers whispered of orc armies wandering the countryside. Coming out of the wood looking across the grassy field, she saw Nic and Sage talking. Both had grim looks on their faces, and the words the kindly gentleman had spoken ran through her head. All that you hold dear to your heart... Tambra silently prayed, Let me be strong, for I cannot let him down.
***
Loriens sat underneath the tree toying with the clumsy weapon in his hands. It was a far cry from his rapier, this lump of crudely crafted metal which the ignorant peasants in this weatherless land dared to call a sword. And who were these "Vikings" after whom they named it? In Loriens' opinion they should just have called it "Big Sword." It was probably easier on the rough peasant tongue, too. In fact, the only weapon that he could recognize in this world was the scimitar, which the people here called a cutlass, and the falchion, which the populace called a scimitar. He pondered the imbecility of those who had shaped the realm.
As for armor, Loriens despaired. This brutish "ring mail" that he wore was not truly ring mail at all. Ring mail was simply rings of metal sewn onto quilt or leather or some other suitable material. No, this "ring mail'' was more like...he didn't know...he had never seen such poor craftsmanship in his life and, as a consequence, had no idea what it was meant to be. At least the barbarians here seemed to know what chain mail was.
He sighed and put down the sword while squirming for a more comfortable reclining position against the tree. At least the ground here is always dry. He wondered how his Provost was getting on without him. His hand twitched when he thought of all the reports he should have written by now, all the paperwork left undone.
There was a squeak from the undergrowth. Loriens picked up his sword. A moment later a little monkey with wings careened from the brush towards him. "Now just hold on a second..." Loriens began to say. The malicious monkey started clawing him. The best Loriens could do was to keep the heavy sword raised. "You're making a mistake, my friend," the Provost Marshall scowled. The monkey-thing showed no sign of stopping its attack; Loriens was losing blood quickly as his vain attempts to fight with the sword brought no reward. Without a second thought, Loriens turned and bolted into the forest, his motions oddly slow, as if he was running in jelly... Now he knew which league he was in here. He would fight rabbits, then he would fight cows, then he would fight wolves, and so on, until he could take on the world! Grimly determined, he slowed to a walk and trudged towards the nearest rabbit.
***
Upon awakening this morning, Silverwind felt as if something was wrong, but being as he had been camped near the lake Despise he figured it to be some evil eminating from the caverns deep within the ground. He let it pass and continued his daily morning activities of going through the area to find what he could to help his fellow Rangers and to replace what was lost to the attacks on the Keep. Upon leaving he went to Trinsic to sell his goods, then headed to the Keep. When he arrived, he heard a commotion outside of Connor's storage tent and proceeded to approach it with caution, not knowing what to expect. Upon seeing both Oakbow and Sage there, he knew that what he felt earlier was no mere passing danger. "What seems to be troubling the two of you?" he asked.
"There is a great threat upon us. As of now we know not from where it comes," explained Oakbow.
"Are the others headed here to discuss this?" Silverwind asked.
"As of this point we know not who is coming. Although Nicodarious has sent word to Connor, he has not arrived yet," replied Sage.
"Well then, gentlemen, I suggest we retire to inside where it is slightly more comfortable and we are less likely to be seen," Silverwind suggested.
"Sounds like a good idea, except that Nic has gone back inside and I have not yet seen him come back out," Sage offered.
"Oh that is okay; Sheldon should have my keys," Silverwind said. Upon going over to Sheldon, he proceeded to try to get his keys. "What? Why are you selling the keys that I own? And for that kind of money, do you really think anyone is going to buy them? Now hand them over before I forget the favor you are doing for me!" Furious at Sheldon for doing this, Silverwind took his keys and told him to guard the door as he unlocked it and invited the others inside. Upon entering he saw Kianne was there already. "Hello, Kianne," he said. "I wish it was under better circumstances that I greeted you on this afternoon."
***
Kianne watched, her back now to the window, as the others entered the Keep. Often she practiced her hiding skills, especially when something dangerous might be trespassing, but today she did not need to bother. Her face was grim, set in a determined expression. No emotion showed--neither fear, nor concern, nor even disgust. Her face was stone.
"Something is happening, isn't it?" she asked. It was technically a question, but she spoke it like a statement, for she already knew the answer. So, in that sense, it was rhetorical. Kianne took a step forward, her hand raising to wrap her fingers around the string of the handmade bow that was strapped across her back. A two-handed axe dangled from her belt. She was always prepared, even in the Rangers' home. "Something major; I can sense it," she said. She watched as the others glanced at each other. Patiently she waited for them to explain what exactly was brewing.
***
Lord Soth entered the temple of Takhisis to find that the news of his return was somehow known to the Knights. It was obviously his Queen's doing. For some reason of her own, she wanted her Knights to know. It was alright with Soth; he would simply adjust his plans. Besides, in either case none of the other LoKs had a clear idea of what was to come.
Soth carried the ancient body of Lord Midnight to the chapel doors, instructing the guards that no one was to enter except his priests. Soth carried the body through the massive chapel and laid it on the unholy altar of Takhisis. Stepping aside into the antechamber, Soth waited for his twelve newest members of the KoT. Members he had personally brought back from the Abyss with him.
The twelve cloaked figures entered. Their robes were black and their only visible parts, their hands, were bandaged in tight white cloth. Their mere presence alone would make most mortals run; their evil was incredible. They quickly began the ceremony. They chanted and cast spells and prayed to Takhisis. The room would go black and then quickly flare to light again with swirling colors.
After an hour of this, another figure walked in. It looked the same as the others, except for the large five-headed dragon medallion around its neck outside of its robes. It joined the chant. The chant rose in volume and the intensity in the room increased. Finally, it sounded as if the forces of nature themselves whipped through the chapel. The wind was deafening, but an occasional word or two could be heard by the thirteenth cleric.
"Bring us--"
Wood splintered in places.
"--darkest--"
Soth stepped forward in anticipation.
"--legionssss."
The wind and chanting came to an abrupt stop.
Soth quickly walked to the altar and looked at the still body on the it. Suddenly it sat up and opened its undead eyes. "Name, rank!" said Soth to the body.
***
Lrod, the giant polar bear, was lying half asleep in an opening outside of Ocllo. It was well fed, and the shadows of the trees kept the afternoon sun away. Leaning against it was MurMur, its master and caretaker. The young mage looked a little bored, creating small fire effects in the air in a failed effort to amuse himself. There was no evil in sight; actually, the whole forest seemed lifeless.
Strange; MurMur thought, it's like everything is holding its breath for something to happen. He looked at the sleeping bear. He whispered, "Vas Ylem Rel," and was transformed to an ettin. He poked the polar bear in the side. Lrod saw the ettin, but instantly recognized the work of magic. He tilted his head and continued napping. The "ettin" sat down again, more bored than ever.
"If only my twin brother Molassar were here," whined MurMur. They had been separated at the age of five, after a horde of orcs killed their parents. Knowing there was no hope, their parents had sent them away into the forest, hoping to hold back the orcs long enough for them to be safe. MurMur, not as strong and fast as his twin, fell behind. Molassar turned around to help his twin, but the forest was pitch dark, and they got separated. Two different families had found them. A human family of rangers and fighters found Molassar, and made him their son. MurMur was found by a group of Silvanesti elves, and grew up among them. The twins had just recently been reunited, thanks to their new family, the Lords and Ladies of Krynn.
He's probably at the Salty Dog tavern, drinking dark ale and flirting with that bar maid, MurMur thought. She should be ashamed, spoiling him like that; and just because he's got some muscles, he sighed to himself.
"Well, at least I've got you," he said to the polar bear, only getting a loud snore back. Lrod's eyes went wide open and he got up on his legs--amazingly fast, considering his gigantic size. "What?" MurMur said, knowing to trust the bear's superior instincts. "Trolls nearby?" The bear looked at him, and he suddenly realized that this was the first time he had seen fear in the eyes of his friend.
Great evil is coming. There is an alarm going off in the collective mind I share with the other animal lords, he said in a secret language known only to the most skilled animal tamers.
MurMur climbed onto the back of Lrod. "Run," he said. "We have to get Molassar, then head back to the Keep. Hopefully, Connor has received the warning and is gathering the Rangers of Krynn. It looks like war is upon us." The giant polar bear started to run through the forest...
***
As Nicodarious came out of the back room after checking his supply of reagents, he noted that Kianne was talking with Oakbow, Sage, and Silverwind. He made his way over to them when Tambra arrived as if she has some disturbing news.
"I was out with Lord Connor," she began, "and we had just dispatched a troll when there was a blinding flash of light. I somehow was teleported to Britain and Connor was nowhere to be seen. I was told by a man in mouse colored robes to come straight to the Keep. Something is coming and I want to know what it is!"
"That is just it, lass;" Nic began, "we don't as of yet know what it is. Agents of darkness are stirring, and we have received only pieces of news. Hopefully when Connor arrives he will be able to shed some light on the situation."
Just then, Lord Connor came into the Keep as well. He went to Tambra first and gave her a hug, making sure she was alright. After their bout with the troll and strange separation, he was worried what might have happened to her afterward. She quickly explained, then Connor looked at the group and said, "We have great cause for concern. As soon as Shirak arrives I want us all to adjourn to the meeting room upstairs so that we may begin a council of war."
"My Lord Connor, may I ask what form of evil we face this time?" Nicodarious asked.
Connor looked at the group and his face turned as stony as a statue as he said one word: "Soth." The silence that greeted that remark hung over the assembled like a guillotine poised to strike.
***
"Do you want another drink, my beautiful warrior?" Ellena the barmaid asked. Ellena was the daughter of the Salty Dog Tavern's owners. She enjoyed her job at the tavern, as she was able to meet many travelers and adventurers, but today was a special day. Molassar was here. After spending several weeks in the woods, he was back in town. It may be that he will ask for me this time, she thought.
"Aye, my dear Ellena, give me one of those tasty dark ales," he said. Molassar was seated alone in the corner of the tavern. He was happy to be back in town, but something deep in his mind was telling him that something was wrong.
Maybe because his twin, MurMur, didn't want to go into town with him. He shouldn't have left his twin brother in the woods. Well, MurMur was not really alone; he had his tamed bear with him. Molassar was always worried for his brother. Maybe it was because they had been separated for so many years. When they were together, before the death of their parents, Molassar was always wrestling with his friends. He was strong already, back then, and always the first to jump into a fight. MurMur was more shy, and preferred to study alone in the library, learning the secrets of the woods, and practicing his skills. Molassar was not surprised that his brother became a mage. The gods gave Molassar the strength, and they gave his brother the gift of magic. Ellena was saying something in his ear. Something is wrong, Molassar? You seem so pale. He could hear some of the words, but he wasn't paying attention. His brother was searching for him. He could feel it, along with the presence of a great evil.
"Ellena, I am very sorry, but I have to leave. Dark days are ahead," Molassar said, apologetically. Molassar took his halberd that was leaning against the wall, donned his plate helmet and said, "I will be back, I swear. I have to find my brother, then head to the Ranger Keep far south of Trinsic. The Rangers are gathering."
He left the tavern in hurry, knowing that he again had hurt Ellena's heart. In his mind, he was hoping that his Lord Connor would explain the nature of the danger. With the help of his brother and his LoK fellows, he would do his best to fight this danger.
***
"Name, rank!" something yelled. "Name, rank!" The words were yelled over and over again. Somebody was really being a pain in the ass. He couldn't see anything. It was all so hazy and dark. The smell of incense hung in the air along with the scent of rotting corpses. The sweet taste of blood was in the air. It was delightful, to say the least. What was awkward was that he didn't feel hot or cold. He just knew that he was laying on something. Then he felt something grab his neck. It was a mailed fist. "Name, rank!" kept echoing in his ears.
Then suddenly it became brighter and brighter as he saw the fires of the Abyss. His eyesight was returning. Before him was the face of Lord Soth, Death Knight, as they looked eye to eye. He let out a wail of laughter that shook the foundations of the temple itself. "MUHAHAHAHAHA!!!" he laughed malignantly. He embraced the Death Knight. He could feel the power of this body. "The power," he whispered, as he realtered the body to the form of his own original body.
"Come. We have waited long enough, my friend. We must carry out our plans as Takhisis bids," Soth spoke.
They walked to the room specially prepared for him. The room was filled with women chained to the wall. "You came prepared, Soth," he murmured in approval. He put on the clothes and armored plate of a Knight of the Skull. He tied the red sash that denoted him as a member of the Heart of the Dragon. He felt the fangs grow as he approached one of the women, and sank them into her neck, giving her sweet lifeblood to him until she had no more to give. "Ahhh...sweet blood. I've never tasted this kind of vintage before. What, pray tell, is it?" He licked the blood of his lips.
Soth, obviously irritated by this banter, let out in deep voice, "Sosarian." They started to walk through the halls.
"Ahh...excellent. Not as good as Toril, but excellent nonetheless. It is time to begin. They won the last time by trapping our Queen. We shall have to pay them back for Arcsen's trickery."
"Who?" Soth muttered.
"Ummm..." He felt odd as he tried to remember who it was. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't remember just who he was talking about, anymore. "Ahh, who cares. We kill them all anyways."
"By the way, what is your name and rank?" Soth irritably asked.
They stopped as his eyes became evil slits and a sly grin formed on his face. "Why, I'm the fallen LoK, the Dark Legion. The Lord of the Skulls."
***
Amongst the very graphic graffitti and vandalism on the walls of the LoK commons, a big message, written in dripping blood, sprawled across the oak door:
I'VE NEVER FORGOTTEN, MY FRIEND
***
A figure in robes the color of smoldering grey ashes, covered by a darker grey cloak, ran as fast as he could. He was zigging and zagging. The words, "Vas Flam! Kill the newbie!" kept ringing in ear. Fireballs kept crashing down around him. He kept thinking that the Catachlysm had struck again. This certainly isn't Toril. At least back there, maces actually worked. The weapons he got here were useless. He hit somebody and cringed as the opponent laughed it off. He finally tossed the weapon in disgust.
His stamina was fleeing him as he was now forced to crawl on the floor. He saw some buildings and thought it would be best to find some refuge there. The people who were chasing after him had found new targets; "pluggers," or something like that. He moaned out, "Help..." but nothing came of it as he collapsed onto the doorstep. He looked up and saw a hanging sign. The words LoK Training had been crossed out and replaced with profanities. He collapsed and went unconscious...
***
After having sat in Siege's office of the Knights of Takhisis since January 28th with his trusty half-ogre still outside the door, Dor finally got bored (after redecorating the room in neon pinks, green, and blues). He had had enough of this waiting, and knew that Soth was somewhere to be found in the temple. After all, he was a god. He therefore strode forth with grim determination to speak with the living corpse. Oaktar, his half-ogre companion, followed him obediently. Being a kender, Dor was amazed that he lasted for a new record of two full minutes before he found some neat stick and stuffed it into his pouch. Then he picked up a shiny gold piece and a deed to a castle. Finally, he remembered why he was here and found the bag of bones at the gate. Something was going off in the distance, but couldn't make it out.
"Okie, Mr. Sothie," he spoke into the air, "me heard ya brought yer boney butt back here. Did me fellow godling, Taki, let ya come out an play wit me? She know dat ya wanna become a Knight of Dor. Yep. Me know it. Since we friends and stuff, me gonna call ya by yer first name. Okie, Loren? Loren... Ya know dat sounds more likie a girlie name dan anyding. Sounds like me Unkie Tas's fwend, Laurana. Ya. Ya gut a girlie name. Dat sad.
"But anyhoot, Loren. So me here ta give ya a proposition, Loren. Ya be a Knight of Dor. Den avery LoK will like ya. Because averybody likie Dor. Me aDORable, cute, and a goodie. Averyday will be a hunkie DORie. Dink nobody will hate ya. Conzies will like ya and stuff. Maybe even get a girlfwend. Ahh...dat wudda be nice. So, ahh ya hafta do is say, 'Me, Loren a Knight of Dor!' No more worshipping Taki. She bad. Besides, me more powerful god, cuz she stuck in da abyss and me here. Me alweddy gut Knights of Dor in Solamnia. Den both knights could be happy and fwee togedder. Much betta ta be known as a KoD dan a KoT. Dey use KoTs ta sleep on and stuff. KoD much betta. So stop being bad and a big bully! Join da Knights of Dor! Umm...purty pleeze???"
***
An evil laugh sounded through the darkness. Looking about, trying to get his bearings and the source of the evil laughter, Father Murphy tightened his grip on the magical mace that he had acquired in the town of Neverwinter. "Show yourself, ya laughing fool!!!" More laughter was the only reply the Irish cleric received.
Then suddenly, without warning, a foul chilliness crept up his spine, causing his resolve and grip to lessen. "I know that feeling all too well..." the father mumbled to himself.
"That's right, you drunken cleric!!! You'd better well know my presence!" a voice spoke. Father Murphy's eyes widened as a shadow moved to his left and a pair of glowing red eyes opened, revealing the location of the evil being. "You thought that I had been destroyed didn't you?"
The voice was his worst fear.
"Soth!!!" Father Murphy whispered under his breath, "I saw your death with me own eyes, you foul perversion of knighthood!!!"
More laughter, "You thought wrong; I am more powerful than you ever could imagine, mortal!!! Your prayers to Paladine will land on deaf ears as I reclaim my right to lead the army of Takhisis!" The Death Knight stepped forward, revealing himself completely. Soth's movements were a blur as he drew his weapon and swung it with blinding speed--
"ARGGGHHH!!!" Father Murphy leapt from his bed in a cold sweat. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and ran down his face. He absentmindedly felt for where the sword would have struck him in his chest. To his surprise he found a thin line of red. Grabbing a cloth to cinch the bleeding, he hurriedly pulled on a robe and stumbled over empty bottles of Pete's Wicked Ale as he ran for his life to tell Oakbow of his nightmare. "I have to quit drinking that stuff," he mumbled.
***
Connor rushed into The Lord's Room, as it was once called. There, some of the Rangers of Krynn, called Wildrunners, stood assembled--each waiting for the Ranger Lord's words. "Dark times are about to come before us," he began. "Each and every one of us will be tested to the utmost in our very faith in ourselves and our core. The dark one, Soth, the bringer of doom and destroyer of cities, has returned. Evil times are upon us and we must prepare."
He turned to Tambra and looked at her with grave importance. "Ride like the winds, far and wide. Summon all the Rangers to the Keep. Tell them about the dark times upon us." Then he turned his gaze to Silverwind. "Silverwind, prepare the Keep for a siege. Lay in all things that will be needed," he ordered. Turning to Kianne, he again spoke, "Kianne, the time is now. Brace yourself, mi'lady, for perhaps our only chance in this fight is for thee and me to combine our powers." Finally, he turned to Nicodarious. "Prepare the healing droughts and the bandages that will keep us whole."
Finishing his individual orders, Connor turned to address them all at once. "We must carry word to Talmorr and his brothers, the Knights of Solamnia. We must ensure that Lord Shirak knows what is happening. In this time of strife and danger, each of us has had a full measure of life. Some of us spread it so thinly over time that it stretches out far. But, if in that measure of life you can summon it all up at once, something glorious can happen. That time is now, for this land is our home, and this is our way. We must protect the land and animals as much as we can. Call to the elves to come to our aid, for I fear that the evil armies will come at us with their entire might. Rangers, look not to our oaths or songs, but look into your hearts, for this will never betray you."
With this, Lord Connor turned toward his horse and took her into the stable. He gently stabled her and moved up the stairs to the Keep. Watching the sunset upon the horizon, he realized that this might be the last peace that he would ever know.
***
Lord Soth stood in the hallway of the temple of Takhisis, staring down at the kender, Dor, in disbelief, his little annoying voice cutting through Soth's head as sharply as a blade. The kender's dimwitted companion stood behind him, looking on fondly at the use of the "big words" the kender was speaking.
"So anyway Sothie, as I wus sayin...um..." The kender started to stumble over his words as the Death Knight stepped towards him. "I a god and you no...um...uh...nice..."
Soth towered over the kender, looking down at him as if lost in deep thought. "You have given me a lot of trouble, kenderkin," stated Soth simply.
"Me trouble???" Dor said offendedly. "Me no cause trouble! You big stinky meanie is all, and since I a God, I have ta set ya straight!" The kender crossed his arms and tried to look dignified.
Soth went down on one knee and grabbed the kender by the shoulders. Oaktar, the half-ogre, growled. Soth whispered a prayer and Oaktar was paralyzed. "You have always known me well, kenderkin. You have caused me grief time and again, but you have always known me." The Death Knight pulled the kender's face closer to his. His ice cold undead hands hurt the kender's shoulders horribly and Dor quieted, realizing the seriousness of the situation (which takes a lot for a kender to realize). "Look into me, kender; take a good look."
The kender stared and then tried to avert his eyes, but couldn't. He somehow looked into Soth's being. He had never known what evil was, until then. It was no longer a game. People were going to get hurt; people were going to die. Dor began to sob uncontrollably. "You gonna kill me!" he gasped. "Please, Sothie, please let Oaktar go. He no smart like me; it my fault if ya hurt im!"
The kender continually wailed and cried until Soth's mailed hand closed over his neck and twisted, ending his life. Oaktar was trying to scream his rage, but was still held by Soth's spell. Soth advanced to kill Oaktar almost on instinct, then he stopped. Pausing a minute, he approached the brute. "Your little friend was quite noble hearted. Perhaps it is true that kender are truly the kindest of wretched Paladine's children." Soth cast a spell quickly, and prepared to implant a strong suggestion into the mind of the brute. "They are so good in fact, that I want you to round up all the Dors Oaktar can find, and bring them to me. That way, my ignorant friend, I can make sure they are sssafe. You will do this for me, won't you, Oaktar?"
Soth released the paralyzation spell, and Oaktar nodded his head enthusiastically. "Go," commanded Soth, and the half-ogre ran off to collect Dor clones and other kender.
On the way to his chambers, Soth gave the orders to the watch commander that all kender brought in by Oaktar were to be securely locked in the dungeon without food.
***
After witnessing Soth killing Dor, Oaktar felt compelled to find more Dors, to hug them and squeeze them with all his love. Soth gave him the command, "Go," and pointed toward the gate.
"Okay, George," the half-ogre replied, and trampled toward the gate as Soth gave him an unfeeling, cold stare. The gate crashed down from the strength of the half-ogre. "Dors;" he fondly said, "Oaktar find little ones." The behemoth picked up a stray Dor here, a trouble making Dor there, and a mutant Dor everywhere (not all his clones were perfect like he was). Then he dragged them back to the temple of Takhisis where he would give them big noogies before he would go back in search of more Dors.
***
Kianne closed her hand around the ankh medallion around her neck. "I am, milord." She looked determined and not the least bit scared. Though the others do not realize it, this was one of the first times she had not either traveled alone or been the unofficial leader of the pack. Even at her first meeting with Connor she sensed a kinship...a closeness that she could not explain. Ever since then, she was destined to follow his lead, to defend him with her life.
Besides, he knew of this threatening evil much better than she. A pure spirit, Kianne had always been one to counter evil. Her alliance with the side of goodness was neither shakable nor casual. Though she had never been one to actively seek out and destroy something when it was not in the process of committing an evil act, she was never hesitant to react when danger called. Her past training would prove useful in this strange new world called Britannia, in which she had spent so much time and learned so much. Her present surroundings, familiar enough to give her an edge over a newcomer, were still stranger than what she was used to. That did not sway her, however, for she had been to new worlds before, and was a fast learner. With a confident motion, she stood at Connor's side and waited to see what sort of strategy he would unfold.
***
"Prepare the healing draughts and bandages," Connor said. Nicodarious obeyed without thought, of course. Although he thought to himself that there was not enough cloth in all of Britannia to bind the wounds that would be inflicted in this particular war.
Soth is going to want Connor dead after what happened the last time they met. Dead: the soul-destroyed-with-no-hope-of-ever-coming-back kind of dead, Nic thought. A chill ran up Nic's spine with that thought. Well I'll just have to see that doesn't happen, now, won't I?
Going to the back room where he kept his supplies, he pulled out a recall rune to Trinsic. He could walk, of course, since it was not that far, but time was important. He chanted the words that would whisk him away on the winds of magic and he was there. His first stop was the bank, so that he could remove all his gold, a pitifully small amount considering what he needed to buy, and head over to the mage's shop.
At the shop, he inquired about this and that reagent, talking down some of the ridiculously high prices that they were asking here. Before he left, he gave them the warning that there would be war very soon and they should prepare. This, of course, was not good news, so now the mage was upset because Nic just bought up most of his stock. "I'm going to use it more directly than you will, my good shopkeeper. Just spread the word." And with that, Nic headed back to the Ranger Keep.
Heading once more to the back room and his work shop, Nicodarious began grinding the herbs that would mean life or death to many of his guild brothers and sisters. "It's going to be a long night," he said aloud.
***
On a hilltop, Talmorr contemplated the winds of change. They had sent him into this strange world called Britannia and now they were calling him out. He obviously didn't belong here. Where he belonged he didn't know, but this place was not for him. After his decision to leave, he had quietly slipped out of the gates at first dawn with very few goodbyes, which was just as well. He had never been good at goodbyes.
Phoenx would make an excellent grandmaster; far better than himself. He knew that Phoenx had been grandmaster when he himself was but a squire. From below he suddenly heard voices, and after he moment he realized it was just a single voice carrying on an animated conversation. Turning, he saw an old man walking up the path.
"Dangnabbit, now where did I leave that hat of mine? Young feller, have you seen my hat? I seem to have misplaced it. My name is Fixban--err, Wizban--err, Fizber."
Talmorr quietly said, "Paladine."
The old man stopped and smiled. "I've never been able to fool you, have I?"
Talmorr merely smiled at this and said nothing. After a moment he said, "Your hat is on your head, by the way." The old man chuckled at him and he continued, "What now for me, m'lord? I know not where I am going from here."
"Talmorr," Fizban/Paladine replied, "not even the gods know all what the future will bring, but you are not done here."
With a sudden realization, Talmorr looked at Paladine. Looking into his eyes, he saw the sadness there. "Soth is back," Talmorr said matter-of-factly.
"Aye, Talmorr, you were right when you said he was not gone for good."
***
Navrip hurried through the hallways of the temple of Takhisis once again. Soth had returned to the keep and Navrip was eager to report. He had learned a few things in the time since his announcement through spying. He found Soth walking through the hallway. "Milord Soth," Navrip said, bowing to Soth, "I would speak with you."
"Yes, of course, Major. What is it you want?" Soth asked.
"I realize that you may not know how the other Knights learned of your return prematurely. It was, of course, our Dark Lady's work. She sent dreams to several Knights who spread the word. I have ordered them not to let any information leak."
"Yes, I figured it was Takhisis' doing," Soth said, not bothering to commend Navrip's initiative. His Knights needed no such pleasantries.
"Yes. However, I have been spying on the other members of LoK. They are preparing for battle, and two, specifically Talmorr and Connor, know that you have returned. I know not where they received the information, except that not one of the Knights betrayed the knowledge."
Soth waved this information away. "Bah, they probably received the knowledge from one of their pathetic gods. I know that Dor knew, so the real gods probably have known for some time. It is not a problem, their puny forces will not be able to stand against us, knowing who commands our forces or not."
Navrip bowed his head in acceptance.
***
After depositing a few Dors at the temple of Takhisis, Oaktar was getting tired of running around, so he thought, Why not look for some Dors at the temple of Takhisis? The half-ogre plodded around the temple while the Knights of Takhisis let him be, knowing that he was a pawn in Soth's grand scheme. Oaktar found that many of the rooms and halls had locked doors as he looked for Dors. He was getting frustrated as he wandered around. He was getting hungry and could smell dinner being made.
Oaktar went in search of food, but found his path was still blocked by confounding doors. He then decided he had had enough, as another locked door blocked his path. He shook the door, but to no avail. He then got so angry that he pulled the door off its hinges. As he held the door in his massive hand, he remembered what Soth had said, They are so good in fact, that I want you to round up all the Dors Oaktar can find, and bring them to me. "This be door, too. Oaktar make Soth happy," he said enthusiastically.
Oaktar then went on a merry spree in the temple of Takhisis, ripping doors off the walls. The Knights of Takhisis were awed by this site, but Soth had given him the "no touching" order. He then bumped into Soth in a hall, just finishing a conversation with Navrip. "Hawo, Soth. Here your doors." He then dropped nearly twenty five doors at the feet of the infamous Lord Soth. "Oaktar make friend Soth happy?"
***
Rivpan's eternal shade companions quivered slightly. "What is it?" he asked of them, drawing odd stares from passers who could not see the creatures.
The left shade, the darker one, tingled.
"That bad, eh?" he replied.
The right shade opened its mouth and emitted an inaudible whisper.
"Do not worry; the balance will always restore itself."
The dark shade lifted its right hand.
Rivpan's eyes went wide with shock. "What?!"
The light shade blinked twice.
"That's impossible! It can't be! The internal balance is just as important as the greater balance. Perhaps more so, because without the internal balance, I am destroyed...as are you two."
Both shades nodded solemnly. "The internal balance isn't the only problem."
Rivpan's jaw went slack. The voice had come from the dark shade. Only the light shade had spoken before, and even then only rarely. And the voice that came from the dark shade was Lord Loren Soth's, not the dark half's, as it should have been. Even those who couldn't see or hear the shades were shaken. "This is bad. Far worse than anything that's ever happened before. But unless there is a serious threat, I cannot do anything about it."
Both shades nodded and fell back into step with Rivpan.
***
Soth watched Oaktar drop the twenty five doors from the temple of Takhisis at his feet. Somehow, this was not surprising to Soth; he should have known to be more specific.
Casting another strong suggestion on Oaktar, Soth began, "You have done well with the kender you have found for me so far, my 'friend'. You are a good boy." Oaktar looked incredibly happy at the praise. "But now I want you to do something different for me. I want you to go and bring all the kender you find to the temple dungeons here. --So they will be safe, of course."
A Knight was walking through the hallway and Soth stopped him. The man saluted and stood at attention. "Name?" asked Soth.
"Private Lance," replied the Knight.
"Private, you are to accompany Mr. Oaktar here, and the two of you are to collect all the kender you can and bring them to the dungeon here. Especially any of them named Dor." The Knight looked like he had just been dishonorably expelled from the Knights, his face was so grave.
"My lord...I..." Lance stammered over his words.
"It is your orders, private. Carry them out successfully and you will be much more than a private in my army." The Knight, looking somewhat pleased now, saluted and stood at attention. To the half-ogre Soth said, "This is your new best friend Lance, Oaktar. You will do everything he says, obeying only his orders and mine. Understand?" Oaktar nodded enthusiastically, looking fondly at his new friend. "Dismissed," said Soth, "and oh yes, private, have someone come and take care of these doors."
Soth cast a recall spell from his office and found himself inside the orc fort, the stronghold of orc activity in Britannia. As soon as he appeared, a harm spell reflected off of the Death Knight. Advancing on the orc mage that had cast it, Soth grabbed him around the neck. "Where iss Rotgrub?" hissed Soth. The orc, being particularly cowardly in the Death Knight's freezing, burning grip, led him into the orc fort. Dozens of orcs gathered around the newcomer, banging sword and shield and howling their threats, but none dared approach.
Soth was led into a grand hall filled with bones and other such disgusting matter. At the end of the great hall was a once finely carved throne, now with an arm broken off and covered in garbage. Sitting on the throne was the great Rotgrub himself, a powerful fighter-mage orc who ruled the orcish clans of Britannia with an iron fist. He was ruthless, cunning (for an orc), and his power among his kind was absolute, his word the law.
"Whys have you brought ssomeones into mys chambers, fool?" growled Rotgrub at the orc in Soth's hand.
"He was brought at my command," replied Soth, for the strangling orc.
"Yous are knowns to uss Lords Soth. Whats do wants with uss?"
"I have come to offer you power, Rotgrub. Power, glory, money, and human flesh and bones." Rotgrub looked somewhat intrigued at Soth's words. "Tomorrow night you will come to a meeting of the darkest creatures of Britannia."
"Whys would Iss do thiss?" asked Rotgrub with dignity.
Soth closed his hand, shattering the orc mage's throat in his hand and killing it. Stepping forward, Soth hissed, "Because if you do not, foolish Rotgrub, your fate will be his!!!"
Rotgrub gulped.
"You will send runners to inform the Troll King, the Ogre King, the Harpy Queen, the Lord of Daemons..." Soth continued on with the list for it was long; there were many evil creatures on Britannia. "You will contact all but the undead; they are mine anyways, as will all of you be. You will all meet me at this location tomorrow night." Soth handed Rotgrub a map. "If any of these rulers do not show up to meet me, they will die." Soth then recalled out.
***
Wandering where his will led him, Kaz trekked through wastelands that told him he was nearing the keep of the Knights of Takhisis. A feeling akin to fear caused the huge minotaur to shudder for a second as the feeling of evil was strengthening.
Stopping only long enough to send a message to his friends in the Knighthood, Kaz continued on. As he topped a rise, the stench of evil in its purest form nearly knocked Kaz back down the slope. Before him, under a dark cloud, lay what he assumed was the keep of the KoT. He knew inside waited the vilest forms of evil imagination could conjure up. He also knew that inside lay some of a group of the people responsible for his one failure to keep an oath: Galan Dracos and Takhisis awaited him inside the keep. They had been the cause of Huma's death, and it was a score he would give his life to settle. He knew fully well that if he could see the keep the occupants of it would most likely know he was there, too.
Reaching to his back, Kaz gripped the handle of his greatest ally here, Honor's Face. Unslinging the great battle axe from its harness, he proceeded down the hill muttering to himself, "It is time to announce my presence."
He strode purposefully towards a small group of trees. As he approached the trees, an odor stronger than that of evil gave away the fact that there were some lying in wait for him. The stench of ogres was very familiar to him, and sparked old memories he would just as soon forget. Kaz chuckled to himself as he thought that it was strange that the thing he had most cursed others for since he had met Huma he was about to do himself. To walk straight into a battle no longer held the allure it had in his youth, but here he was knowingly walking into a trap laid by the KoT. Upon entering the grove of trees, Kaz saw his opponents: two huge ogres rivaling himself in size had flanked him. They approached with an evil glint in their eyes.
"Foolish minotaur," said one of the ogres, "you walked straight into our trap; it seems the masters have overestimated you!!!"
Grinning with what seemed an evil countenance, Kaz replied, "Someone did underestimate someone, but you won't live to report it!!!" With that, Kaz lunged towards the nearest of the ogres, catching him off guard; they were expecting a fight from the minotuar, but not an outright attack. Also, someone had forgotten to warn them about Honor's Face; it was a fatal mistake for one ogre. As the ogre drew his own battle axe up to a defensive position, Kaz swung Honor's Face in a mighty arc, cutting through the ogre's axe and into his chest. A look of confusion crossed the ogre's face for just a second, then Kaz pulled the axe from his chest and turned to the remaining ogre.
Its face contorted into several emotions quickly: confusion and shock, fear, then into a look of pure rage. This ogre was better trained than the ogres of the last war. Not relying on its brute strength, someone had actually taught it some defensive and counter moves. Kaz thought to himself as he pressed his attack, This does not bode well for the Knights. They are easily better swordsmen then the ogres, but it may cause a slight shift in the balance away from their side.
As he thought, Kaz narrowly missed losing his head, as during the distraction he had dropped his guard a bit. When the ogre swung again, Kaz caught the blade of its axe against the handle of Honor's Face. The reverberation caused them both to drop their weapons. There was a moment of indecision as the ogre tried to decide whether to grab for his axe or to grab at Kaz. Kaz, however, had not a moment of hesitation. He grabbed the ogre and drove his horns deep into its chest.
As the life fluids drained from the big ogre, he realized he had been tricked. A look of pure hatred was the last expression the ogre ever made. Picking up Honor's Face, Kaz wiped the blade clean and put it back in its sling. Wishing he had a tub of water to wash the blood of the ogre off himself, Kaz laughed out loud. "Heh, Dor would have a reason to complain about the way I smell for once, but it may help me in the long run."
With that, Kaz proceeded on towards the keep of the KoT; it was still a long ways in the distance, and he knew there would be more trials along the way.
***
Oakeye woke up with a headache. The last month had been quite a blur... He remembered charging into the woods and heading for some sort of confrontation with Soth and some other LoKs. Probably Talmorr and Connor, he thought to himself. But, on the way, he had passed by a lonely looking tavern and realized he was quite thirsty. Stopping for a quick drink, he was amazed: This tavern in the middle of the woods had the strongest, best brew he had ever tasted! Repeatedly telling himself that he would have just one more and then be on his way, he drank more than he intended, although he wasn't sure if that was actually possible.
The next morning he woke up with a grin, ready to head back on the path to helping his brothers mess up that young lad, Soth, who was always causing trouble. Fully fired up after one of the best nights of drinking he had ever had, he set about getting ready for the road. That consisted of going downstairs for a morning drink and strapping on his sword, Alemaker.
When he got downstairs, he noticed immediately that something was wrong. The tavern keeper was on the floor in about ten different pieces. The rest of the patrons from the night before and the rest of the tavern's employees were hanging from trees outside in the front clearing. And in the tavern common hall was a horde or orcs. Outside he noticed ettins and ogres batting around the dead bodies in glee with their enormous paws. Apparently, he thought to himself, they must have not bothered to enter my room for some unknown reason, and therefore did not kill me. (Oakeye still didn't know how badly he smelled). Bad mistake.
Screaming like an angel having her wings torn off, Oakeye raised his sword and charged the throng in the common room. The orcs looked up in surprise and then, to Oakeye's utter chagrin, they did something most un-orc-like. Instead of trying to meet his attack, they all simply jumped on top of him. Suddenly underneath the bodies of thirty orcs, Oakeye was at a loss for battle rage. What kind of crazy orc tactic is this? What strange land am I in? It's time to meet dirty tactics with dirty tactics, Oakeye thought. Concentrating intensely, Oakeye managed to release an enormous sound blast from his buttocks. In less time than it took Oakeye to down a mug of ale, he was suddenly able to stand up again! The orcs were streaming out the windows in a flood.
Dusting himself off and taking a good whiff of his handiwork, Oakeye grinned at his excellent work. Quite impressed with himself, he swaggered out the front door and faced a new problem. All the beasts were gone, but the ogres had remained and seemed to be staring at him with something akin to awe on their faces. --And what was that? Was there lust on some of their faces? He looked closer... By a SATAN! Those were ogre females! Sudden panic gripped Oakeye; he had already fathered Oaktar in his past and didn't wish to go through that adventure again. Oakeye bolted for the trees, and the whooping and yelling of the pursuing ogres followed him every step.
Over the next month, Oakeye made it his mission to avoid the amorous ogres. And finally, at the end of a month of nothing but hiding and running, the aroma from his handiwork wore off. Oakeye was free once again! Woohoo! He went to celebrate at the nearest tavern, having spotted one the day before.
And that brought him back to the present...
Oakeye walked down into the commons. Spotting a barmaid, he grunted, "Where in the Nine Hells am I, lass?"
The lass rolled her eyes and replied, "Trinsic, you buffoon."
That meant nothing to Oakeye. Deciding to take a shot in the dark, he fixed the shapely lass with an appraising eye and asked, "Have you perchance heard of the great and mighty Lords of Krynn and where they may be at?"
The barmaid blushed at his facial expression and replied curtly, "Yes, they live near here," and proceeded to give Oakeye directions to a Ranger Keep of theirs she knew of.
Oakeye spoke, "You know, lass, I am one of them. Mayhap I could show you our fine Keep you speak of. Perhaps one of the bedrooms. We always have great bedrooms, I assure you."
The barmaid hurrumphed, "Sure. You? One of those mighty and noble Lords of Krynn? Yeah, right. Get outta here, you old beggar. --And take a bath once a year, why don't ya?!"
Chuckling to himself, Oakeye made his way out of the tavern and into the streets. Noting the sign, he decided to return later because he was quite sure that barmaid like him. Turning down the street, Oakeye set off in search of this Ranger Keep to see what was the latest with LoK these days. Wonder if they ever beat Soth, he thought to himself. Wonder if my son Oakbow has any good tales for the telling...
***
END OF CHAPTER ONE
***
