Here is the fifth chapter in the epic Soth story. Soth had shown himself to be the foul, deceitful creature everyone believed he was, but he the extent of his treachery had not yet fully bloomed. In this chapter we see a number of further revelations of his evil plans, including the death of a certain Ranger Lord...
The only editing difficulty I had in this chapter was the title, "Knight of the Wrong," which to me sounded entirely grammatically incorrect. I will inquire with Lord Pirvan as to whether or not this is indeed correct.
I have been receiving stressful news of late, regarding the apparent return of Lords Soth and Navrip to Britannia, so I fear I may have to cut my time short here in Palanthas. I will try to finish off the rest of this story as quickly as I can, so that I may return to you all and be of some more practical assistance. I pray you are all safe. If I must, I will be glad to bring some help from Krynn, but that matter hopefully will not arise.
Cleric Theobald
Guild Scribe, Lords of Krynn
Apprentice to Astinus of Palanthas
***
Chapter 5
The Battle Begins
Connor's yells filled the night air: "To the trees, then recall and gate! Cast in haste!" As many of the rangers gated back to the keep, dragons swept down low to attack them. But the dragons themselves were then pulled to the ground. The very forest raised up against them; vines and trees stretched as the Ranger Lord awoke them.
Kianne, with her hands raised and a small glowing stone in each, began spouting ancient words. Suddenly the air turned cold and the wind began to howl as her mastery of the elements began to take a toll on the dragons. They smashed into the ground and were set upon by the trees.
At the Ranger Keep the word went out as the undead began to pour through the gates. The younger rangers fell back and suddenly a lich stepped out and spoke ancient words. A large fireball leapt from his hand and into the left wall of the keep. The rangers disappeared and the undead surged forth with Soth at the lead. Then the rumbling started. The entire keep began to shake. With a stupendous explosion, the keep collapsed. Tons of stone and brick fell upon the undead and Soth, crushing many of them.
Back at the forest, the woods were alive with the sounds of battle as the rangers engaged the dragons. Arrows flew from bowstrings as the draconians struck back with a vengeance. Then, with a loud roar, the good dragons flew forth and engaged their evil brothers and sisters.
"For The Green!" someone shouted. The cry was picked up and rang out as each ranger learned of the fate that had befallen the keep. Such was the price they paid for the chance they had taken when they tried, in the spirit of brotherhood, to trust those whose hearts were without honor. But the keep was just a place, as each ranger knew; a convenient place, to be sure, but unnecessary in the least. Even so, Connor's eyes were smoldering with hate as his sword flashed in the sky and his blows came fast and hard.
***
Nicodarious had been calmly sitting in his tent, grinding away with his mortar and using up his garlic supply to make the nightsight potions that Connor had asked for when the cry of alarm rose. Now, gathering his reagents, he exited the tent as quickly as possible. He saw the unnatural shapes fighting the rangers. These must be the draconians I have been told about. Traveling among the rangers, he aided with his potions. "Take this, and drink it quickly that you may see to fight these monstrosities," he said, handing out the pitiful few nightsight potions he had been able to make. Nic saw Connor in battle. Muttering the words, "In Lor," Nic quickly enabled his lord to see better in the darkness. Stepping up next to a tree, Nic continued to cast the nightsight spells to those who needed it.
"Die, scum!" was shouted just to Nic's left.
He turned to see a draconian advancing on him. Not wanting to waste any magical reserves, he quickly pulled out his dagger and threw it right down the open maw of the creature. It fell face first into the dirt at Nic's feet. The thing tried to pull the dagger in a futile attempt to free it. The thing ceased its struggling and died, turning to stone. Nic stood there for a moment, muttering to himself. That's just great. How am I going to get my dagger back? No one told me they turn into friggin' statues when they die.
Nic quickly went back to scanning the battle, healing as needed and fighting when there was no other choice; all the while thinking, I was wrong: Soth would go back on his word after all. So much for following a code of honor. Gritting his teeth, he waded back into the fight with new fire in his eyes. I must make my way toward Connor. If he should fall we will falter, and I cannot allow that.
***
At the keep, turning to his right, Soth waved his troops forward. He sensed air compressing as an arrow wizzed by his ear and buried itself in a tree. Sneering, Soth saw the arrow and pulled it out. He waved it for his troops to see. "Look, they seek to stop me with mere arrows!" He stopped and stared at the arrow as the shaft began to glow. The feathers fell off and a symbol began to glow. Staring, Soth recognized it. The symbol was that of his old order: the Knights of Solamnia. Into flame the arrow exploded. The pain was intense and Soth growled as he dropped the flaming arrow. His sword fell to the ground. Bending down to pick up his sword, he glanced at the arrow and saw it was still intact, even after the explosion. Now there was a scroll draped around it. It had the seal of the Knights of Solamnia and Soth could see his name engraved on it. Speaking words of power, Soth pointed at the scroll and it unfurled. Trying not to touch it, Soth bent down and read it:
To Lord Soth,
Greetings, Lord Soth. You didn't really think all of us would trust you, did you?
Talmorr
Staring at the scroll, Soth pointed and the scroll disappeared in flame. Looking toward the Ranger Keep he screamed again. "Attack!"
***
Lord Justice wandered unknown wastelands and came upon two structures that resembled Krynnish architecture. He felt he was getting closer. He picked up a strange looking metal crossbow that had no bow at the gate. It was foreign to him, but he thought it would give the sorcerers something to look at, back on Krynn. A glint of light coming from the ground caught his eye. Next to a boulder, glowing crystal shards were scattered about. "Hmmm... Something else." He picked up the gems and placed them into a small leather bag. He also found a kender's leather moccasin that he soon threw as far away as possible. He walked closer to the two buildings.
One of the buildings was of black marble and had crumpled in on itself as if it had imploded. The area surrounding it was draped in perpetual shadows. The other building was shaped like a tower that had been sheered in half. Fire and explosions had gutted what was left on that building. White marble and granite were strewn all over the place. Remnants of a mighty fortress, perhaps? he thought. However, the debris was all that was left of it, as a huge crater marked the center of where it once stood.
Continuing on, Justice came across a clearing and found a marble block of white, red and black, bearing the names of people he didn't know. He muttered out the first few names: "Acer... Althor... Amy... Arcane... Arcanus... Arcsen... Argoz... Ariakas..." It was a memorial of some sort, placed after the destruction, as it had no scars from the surrounding devastation. He walked around some more, until he found a fallen tombstone with the name of "Legion, Kennington Cornlen," on it. Two other graves were present, with the foundations of tombstones the only thing marking them. He was finally here. This was the place to which he had been called. But why? he asked himself as his fingers traced over the lettering of the tombstone. "Not again," he mumbled as he began unearthing the tomb.
It took all day to dig with his hands and sword until the blade snapped off on a stone. He heaved a sigh as he cleared the dirt away from a stone coffin. With a grunt he pushed with his legs to flip the lid of the coffin. Putrid fumes rushed out, causing him to hold his nose. He was exhausted. He looked inside and found nothing but a skeleton, wearing plate mail. A star jewel had been left upon the corpse's breastplate, along with other parting mementos such as a pewter ale mug with the image of an oak on it. That was odd, because Justice knew Legion couldn't hold his liquor. A sword was placed next to the corpse's right hand. He cautiously touched the star jewel with his finger and it flared to life. It shot a ball of light into the night sky. He fell to one side of the coffin as the corpse morphed into a more humanoid shape.
"My friend," the figure said, putting its hand on Justice's shoulder. He now had a terrified look on his face in response. "Thank you for traveling from afar to come here. I will be brief, for there is much to do and time is of the essence. You must take my star jewel and give it to the Chosen One. The Chosen One will give life to the Legion of Steel and lead it. The world in which my friends have made their new home is a dangerous one. They need its strength. Do you remember the Legacy?"
A stunned Justice replied, "Have the courage to do right. Know thyself. Respect virtue. Be vigilant. Justice for all..."
"And...?"
"Never give up."
"Our motto?"
"All we have is each other."
"Good. You will have to teach them the meaning of those words."
"Ummm... Uhhh... You sure do know some things about me. Just who are you?"
"Oh, yeah; I knew I forgot something." A light flashed where his body would have been. "My name is Kennington Cornlen."
Justice became less scared at the mention of his old friend's name, though he was somewhat skeptical still. His guard was still up; he didn't say anyything.
"Ashe is proud of you. She is always with you, in spirit and in heart."
Justice was comforted by those words. Ashe was his wife who had been killed almost a decade ago. His life had gone to the Abyss with her. The figure lifted a sword out of the grave and placed it in Justice's hand. "Kat gave me this sword. I want you to have it. May it guide you in life and protect you. I'm sure you remember the magical words...?"
"Justice and justice served," he responded. The sword magically dematerialized into the air, binding itself to his will. "I'm honored; I will do it."
"I now have a more personal request: A part of Katalen's soul is bound to her body; as long as a part of her is still anchored here, she cannot be free. You must find her body in the ruined Temple of Takhisis over there," he pointed. "Free her..."
"I'll do it at first light," Justice promised.
"Thank you. I knew I could count on you, my friend." The light dissipated.
After sleeping soundly through the night, Justice prepared to enter the ruined temple. He took a dead piece of wood and lit it as he entered the front of the Temple of Takhisis. It was now eternally consumed in darkness. The air was stale and hard to breathe. The surviving halls were tight squeezes, since the temple had collapsed on itself. This was going to take awhile. He came upon what was once a huge dome-like chamber. The ceiling and walls had been pushed forward. The light from his torch became dimmer until it flickered out. He could feel the evil of this room crushing him.
"Who has entered the inner sanctum?" something asked in a droned voice.
Another voice spoke out: "Who has violated the home of the Dark Queen?"
Ghostly whisps of glowing white seemed to appear before his eyes in the dark. Then two ghostly faces appeared before him and spoke in unision: "We are the Reapers of Blood, the guardians of our Dark Queen's domain, dark knights who served her in body and now in death!" They swooped in and rushed him.
Justice ducked as a flail whizzed over his back. "Justice!" he said. A sword appeared in his right hand. He was fighting ghosts in pitch darkness. Not good, he thought to himself. He also felt the sword tugging him in a specific direction, but he ignored that for now. He moved in the darkness, avoiding some of the blows, but mostly getting hurt. Then lightning bolts flashed through the air, giving him some light in the darkness. As he made a dash toward a throne to use as a shield, he was hit by a lightning bolt. All his muscles tensed up as the energy surged through his body. His sword fell with a clang as he let go after the effects of the electrocution wore off. The bolt deflected off the wall and hit the ghost, momentarily stunning it. Lord Justice inched himself behind the throne to catch his breath. There he found something; it felt like a crown of sorts. He dug through his pack and found the metallic crossbow he had discovered earlier. He took out the crossbow and put the crown in his pack. Too bad I don't have any quarrles, but I can at least swing at them with something--if they can be hit! He flipped a switch on the crossbow and was astonished to find it humming. "Justice's last stand," he muttered as he stood up, trying to track the whisps. He pulled the trigger of the crossbow and a ball of plasma streamed forth, hitting the ghost. Justice was surprised with this crossbow and forgot to let go of the trigger. Balls of light were impacting against the walls, weakening the structure. When he finally let go, the blocks of stone were beginning to fall. "Justice served!" he yelled, to retrieve his sword, as he dashed to an adjoining antechamber.
Dust from the falling walls poured into the room, causing him to cough. His eyes took a few moments to adjust themselves to the darkness. Debris had blocked off the way he came, but at least that keeps out the ghosts as well. He cautiously traveled down some stairs. It wasn't as dark as the inner sanctum, so he could at least make out a few things in front of him. He searched some rooms along the way, finding nothing except a torch, which he lit. "Justice." The sword appeared in his hand. He then felt the tugging sensation again. The sword led him to the dungeon level. These rooms were still more or less intact. The sword led him to a steel door. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He tried to push it, but to no avail. He pulled out the crossbow. He noticed that it said, "Property of MECH Argos," with Argos crossed out and Dor written in. Whoever MECH Argos was, he thought to himself and shrugged. He pulled the trigger and blasted the door open. He brought the torch into the room and saw the walls were plated in steel. Obviously to keep dangerous prisoners. He then heard a voice.
"Evil, is yooou? Have yooouuu finally come to get me? Evilll?"
He set the torch closer to the source and dropped it in shock. His mouth was agape as he took in the sight. Katalen was suspended in the air by chains attached to the ceiling. Her clothes were in tatters. Her shriveled, decaying body was a pale white. A distinct scar was around her neck, with a necklace dangling from it. One of her arms was missing. She was a far cry from the beautiful woman who had given her hand to him out of compassion so long ago.
She kept muttering, "Evil... Evil... Where are youuu?" She was still "alive" because she was one of the undead. He climbed up and was eventually able to cut the chains to let her down.
Justice set her down on the floor. "Kat. It's me, Justice. Do you remember me?"
"Justice? Where's Evil? He told me he was going to come back for me. He said I would be safe chained up here. Where's Evil? Neverwinter's destroyed? Evil said he would take me away. Away... Rescue me... Where's Evil...?" She droned on with glossy eyes.
"Umm... Uhhh... Evil sent me here to get you. It's me, Justice."
"Justice? How nice of Evil to send a friend all the way from Krynn... Where's Evil?"
Justice didn't know what or who this Evil was, or if he even existed. She's probably just insane. This was no way for her live. She was a mere shadow of herself. But she was still alive in a weird sort of way. I can't kill her, can I? Remember the Legacy. I must do what's right. "I'm going to take you home."
"Home? That will be nice. Is that where Evil is?"
"Yeah, that's where Evil is..." He took the sword in his hand and took her hair in his other. She would be too weak to put up any kind of resistance. He raised the sword and closed his eyes. "I'll always remember the way you were, not as you are now..." The sword cleaved her head, separating it from the body. The necklace skittered on the floor to a wall. He then put the torch to her body, including the arm still attached to a chain. The purifying flame consumed the body. "Justice served," he said, and the sword dematerialized. He watched the flames reduce her body to ashes, showing her due honor until the last ember burnt out. Memories of old flooded his mind. "You're free," he whispered, as he wiped the tears away.
As he was about to leave the room, something touched his shoulder from behind and he turned around. A shock of terror was in his eye as saw another ghost. But he saw immediately that this one was gentler, more peaceful. It took his hands and placed something in them. He held up his palm and found a crystal heart locket.
"Thank you," it said. "I'm free... I'm finally free... Free from that... Free from Evil's foul touch and..." She paused as if she was hiding something. "Kennington's sword brought you here because my heart is on it... A part of me... Thank you..." The ghostly form kissed him on the cheek. Surprisingly, he found it warm. "Take me to my love... Take me to Kennington... But before you do that, you must heal him."
"Heal who?" More cryptic sayings. These two just can't say anything straight, can they?
"You will know, when the time comes... Farewell, Lord Justice... We'll see each other again... Please, find happiness..." The ghost disappeared into the locket.
"Umm... Bye, Katalen." He stood there for a moment, thinking. Bring them together? "Oh." He took out Kennington's star jewel and placed the crystal on it. The cystal heart magically melted into the star jewel. The center jewel of the star jewel was now that of the crystal heart. He smiled. They are finally together now as they deserve to be. One heart, one body, one soul. Forever one. He placed the star jewel in his belt and went about finding a way out.
***
Syra Dales learned the battle had begun. Soth's forces had engaged Connor's at the Ranger Keep and the expeditionary force had been attacked by the draconian army. As per Dark Legion's instructions, she recalled Blood Wing to the fortified hill. Holocaust Wing was told to regroup at a point in the path of the expeditionary force just in case they decided to come toward them. They were still a day away from the expeditionary force, and three days from the Keep. The battles would certainly be over by the time they would reach them. They would remain in place and conduct the next phase. She questioned the attention that Dark Legion lorded over Oakbow. Oakbow was an honorable warrior in her eyes, if a bit misguided.
***
Ion had spent the better part of the day moving his army forward to meet with Connor's forces. His clerics had spent many spells in order to quicken the pace of the troops. They were but a mile away when it all happened. The draconians fell from the skies. The battle between Connor's forces and Soth's dark minions began. Ion stared mutely at this for a moment, with a strange gleam in his eye. A tear fell down his face as he spoke, "Sso it hass happened. The dark one did not hold to hiss word. But we are sstill bound by the word of our lord."
His troops stood there, awaiting his orders. Ion motioned for his troops to listen. "Attack!" he yelled and pointed. His troops rushed towards the battlefield. Ion began to wail, a cry that was quickly taken up by his troops. It wasn't a war cry, however, nor a cry of bravery, nor of warning. It was a painful wail of sadness. A declaration of the darkness the troops were submitting to.
A lull broke in the battle at the pitiful sound. Both sides turned toward the approaching army. The rangers, having been informed of Ion's troops earlier by runners, raised a small cheer at seeing the approaching force, no matter how small, that would be relieving them somewhat. The rangers renewed their attack with new vigor, even more assured now of their victory. This vigor quickly turned to confusion, however, as the first wave of Ion's army crashed into the battle. The first blood to be spilled upon a Knight of the Wrong's blade wasn't draconian, rather it was ranger. Ion's army pushed into Connor's, showing their allegience to be with Soth! This was a dark day indeed.
***
Pirvan looked up from his desk. He sighed, a painful sigh of an old man remembering fonder times. Although no one was physically present in his room, she was there. She was watching as she had for many months now. "I have done as we agreed upon, Lady Takhisis. Now, release Tina's soul completely from your foul grasp," he said, each word dripping with anger.
A deep, evil laugh filled the room. "The soul shall pass from one pair of dirtied hands into another! But you haven't fullfiled your part of the bargain totally. As soon as I return her soul, I cannot be assured that you will have your troops continue aiding mine."
Pirvan growled and unleashed a powerful blast of god-magic. The body of Takhisis shimmered into view, unharmed by Pirvan's attack, but visible none the less. "Vile creature!" Pirvan shrieked. "You return her soul, or by the High God, I shall expend every last ounce of my energy to destroy you!"
Takhisis wasn't truly afraid of Pirvan's threat, but she knew how she could use his anger against him. "I'll give you her soul totally back, but on one condition..."
Pirvan knew what the condition was. With fists clentched, he nodded his head. Takhisis reached her hand toward him, and it dipped deep into his chest. Pirvan fell to the ground, shrieking in pain; but as he was tortured he knew Tina's soul was completely back. She was whole once again. But at what cost?
***
Connor gasped as the priests fell into the rangers' ranks, further decimating his troops. Tears welled in the Ranger Lord's eyes as the animals let out squeals of pain and as young rangers fell. But they still held, barely. The dragons were gone now, and the draconians were almost finished, but many rangers had fallen and now the priests were healing the wounded dracos and throwing their awesome power against the rangers' own. "Pagh!" Connor grunted in disgust. "What have we become? Nothing but a bunch of backstabbing betrayers! The LoKs I once knew had honor and stood for something; now we stand for nothing but war and pain." This is truly a dark day. Connor's blade pierced the chest of the first priest and his death screams filled the air. Then suddenly Silverwind shimmered into being beside Connor. "Ah, good. My old friend and now most trusted confidant. What news do you bring?"
"What is going on here?" Silverwind asked in bewilderment.
Connor looked at him and said, "We were betrayed. Soth betrayed us all."
Silverwind blinked in surprise. "I did not think he would do that. I thought he had honor, but now I see that he doesn't. Connor, come closer, " Silverwind said, leaning over to whisper so as not to be overheard in the din of combat. "I approached Soth about taking you out of this battle and killing you. Your ways are not working for most of us anymore--you are too trusting! But now I see that I have been betrayed also. Soth swore to me that if I took you out of the fight, none of the other rangers would be harmed."
Connor glared at Silverwind in shock, backing away, ready to strike him down.
"Hold!" Silversind said, holding up a hand. "I have seen that he cannot be trusted, so I have a plan. I am going to make it seem, for all intents and purposes, that you are dead. And when the time is right you will be able to rejoin the battle when Soth least expects it. What say you to my proposal?"
Connor thought for a moment before speaking. Silverwind has just admitted to betraying the rangers to Soth! "Are you sure of this? You know you will lose your place in the rangers and will not be allowed back in, as they will believe you have killed me," Connor said.
"Yes, I am sure. I want to cut off my ties to them, anyways. I feel I can no longer follow their path."
Connor looked at Silverwind, and, speaking gravely, said, "Then yes, end it now."
With that, Silverwind took his longsword and thrust it into Connor, piercing him through his heart. Silverwind grabbed him as he fell from his horse, pulled a rune from his pouch, and muttering the magic words, whisking himself, Connor and his horse away. Landing back at Silverwind's house, he took Connor down into the basement and placed him into a wooden box. Closing the cover, he had to figure how he could now convince Soth that Connor was dead. Realizing he would need a body to convince him and the others, he left for Britain, knowing there he could find a thief that no one would miss...
Recalling to Britain, he went to the bank, as most thieves tended to hang out in that area. Seeing one stealing, Silverwind decided not to yell for the guards, but to approach him instead. Speaking quickly, he grabbed the thief. "Why, hello there. Unless you would like for me to call for the guards for robbing that poor fellow, I need a favor."
The thief looked startled, and then said to Silverwind, in a sneering voice, "Why should I help you?"
Silverwind sighed. "Because I will pay you for your services in gems and gold."
That seemed to brighten the thief to the notion. "Very well, then, but this better not be a trick," the thief said, waggling his finger at Silverwind.
"Oh, it isn't. I promise," said Silverwind, smiling evily. Taking the thief and heading out of the city, Silverwind cast a spell to paralyze him. He then took a dagger and slit his throat where he stood. "Sorry about that," Silverwind said, "but you are helping me. And you are not anyone that will be missed in this town, nor any other." Taking his body back to the forge, Silverwind quickly put some of Connor's older armor on him and did his best to make him look as close to Connor as he could.
He then took the thief and himself back to the battle. Holding him up so that all could see, Silverwind took his halberd in hand. "This is what I think of Connor and the goodness he stands for!" Silverwind declared. With that, he swung the blade of his halberd as hard as he could and watched as the head and body separated.
***
Battered and bloody, his head looking like a bloody pulp, Oakbow couldn't even respond to Dark Legion. Intense hatred filled his being and threatened to cause him to explode. I will never beg to this bloody bastard! Oakbow was so consumed by sudden hatred and rage that he ripped the chains from the walls that had been constraining his arms and legs. Oblivious to his broken hand, he used it to land a punch squarely in the shocked Dark Legion's face before guards poured on top of him like a tidal wave.
Dark Legion laughed deep and long, "Hahahahahahah, pitiful Oakbow is angry. Poor Oakbow. Are all your pitiful little friends gonna die? Ahhh, I feel so sorry for you. Now feel pain!" Dark Legion proceeded to kick and punch Oakbow repeatedly, until Oakbow's head lolled listlessly and his body looked like a Picasso painting. Murmuring words of binding to strengthen the new chains, Dark Legion stared at the unconscious Oakbow and whispered, "We're gonna have a long time together, and I do believe you will beg to me before I am done."
Oakbow, lost in the dreams of the unconscious, clung to one thought floating through his mind. Never give in! Never utter even one more sound! Revenge!
***
Oakeye was in the woods, about a half mile from the Keep, working on training the troops Oakbow had brought back. He had been coordinating the twenty hippogriffs and ogres into a deadly fighting force. Not an easy task, and one that had required much alcohol secretly being added to the hippogriff and ogre drinking supplies. After loosening them up a bit, Oakeye had drilled them mercilessly into how to fight as a unit. Pure power in land and air gave this troupe a truly awe-inspiring potential. The Maples were scattered about, slamming swords into each other and singing jovially at the coming prospect of battle. Alcohol was freely exchanging hands, and spirits were high.
Suddenly, a noise shattered the concentration of all on hand. A resounding BOOM! ripped through the air, scattering the wildlife and drawing shocked looks from everyone--back in the direction of the keep! Oakeye, a fighter and leader for longer than most of the Maples had been alive, immediately set about issuing orders. The Maples organized into five groups of twenty, two groups forming to the side of the twenty ogres forming up in the middle, and three groups forming up behind the ogres. The twenty hippogriffs took to the sky directly above the three groups of Maples in the back. Oakeye, in front of everyone, raised his hand and signaled to advance, proceeded at a run toward the keep.
They came upon a scene of utter chaos. The forces of Soth had attacked the Ranger Keep, which had exploded and was now a pile of rubble. Oakeye was calm as he surveyed all this until he realized that he had stored all of his alcohol in the keep. In the keep that had just exploded. That, and he didn't see his son Oakbow anywhere! Suddenly, there was a tingle at the bottom of his toes, then through his legs, then it hit his torso, finally filling his skull. A shriek of unchecked rage ripped forth from his lips, momentarily stunning the nearest combatants who looked toward the piercing sound. Oakeye turned his sights on a small squad of six rangers about to be overwhelmed by a large group of Knights of Takhisis and draconians. "ATTAAACK!!!" was all he managed before he charged toward the evil creatures who would dare cause his alcohol to be lost! The group of knights and draconians turned and witnessed their own deaths.
With Oakeye in the lead, swinging his greatsword, Alemaker, about in a vicious circle, the ogres and twenty Maples on each flank surrounded the troupe of evil Knights. They were preceded by sixty arrows from the three groups behind--Maples weilding longbows the size of most men and shooting arrows that could punch right though armor. Pierced with arrows and attacked by ogres and utterly wild barbarian men, suddenly they were accosted by terrrible flying beasts from above as well. Oakeye had trained the hippogriffs well, and any draconians who were in their death throes and about to deal the deadly postmortum attacks were picked up and dumped far from where they could do damage.
Surging past the first group of knights and draconians, sweeping the six joyous rangers into their ranks, Oakeye's group met with another of Soth's bands. This time, Oakeye shrieked a command wildly and his eyes lit with anticipation. They proceeded to charge once again, and the knights dug themselves in this time, having seen what had happened to the last group. But the twenty ogres and forty barbarians pulled up this time, causing the evil knights to shift in confusion. Suddenly, twenty hippogriffs flew overhead and dropped forty bottles of oil which had been clutched in their hind claws. Oil deluged the men and draconians beneath. The oil was followed immediately by sixty flaming arrows which lit the unholy band into a burning inferno with draconians spraying their deadly death attacks to and fro.
Skirting the scene of utter destruction, Oakeye caught sight of a group of rangers surrounded by a black bath of evil knights. Oakeye raised his voice to the heavens and his band raised their voices to join, ogre yells and hippogriff screams joining in, as they charged to the aid of the rangers.
Unfortunately, Soth's forces had taken the Ranger Keep by total surprise. Although the rangers were well disciplined, the sheer numbers and savagery of the evil creatures had won them past the walls quickly. When the keep had exploded, sending bodies careening through the air like rag dolls, Soth was the one who was surprised. The explosion had wounded both sides, but the battle continued. There was no longer a reason to gain entrance to the keep, just to kill everyone who had resided there. His army scampered over the rubble and into the small ranks of rangers. The battle was looking good from Soth's point of view when he was taken by surprise once more.
The first surprise did not shock him that much; he knew the ents would come eventually, just not in the numbers they did. A blue dragon crahed to the ground from the battle in the skies above. It was not wounded badly, just stunned. It tried to get back to its feet and launch into the air after its assailant, when it was grabbed by a horde of ents. The giant trees ripped apart the beast with a savagery that Soth had to admire. The ents tore into the monsters and inflicted heavy casualties until torches and fire spells were used to even the match.
The second surprise was definately a shock to the general: Oakeye's small army of the Maple Clan, ogres, and hippogriffs suddenly appeared and slammed into Soth's army with incredible force and brutality. They were an unstoppable force when they first appeared, and they drove the evil creatures right off of the rubble where the Ranger Keep used to lie. The battle raged on, however, until all of a sudden Soth's ogres and Oakeye's ogres met on the rubble. Both groups forgot all about everyone else and fought each other. They were warring clans and nothing could stop their bloodlust, short of death.
Soth was watching the ogres fight and all else going on, but what he was really looking for was Talmorr. Talmorr or Connor, for that matter. But he had to take care of another annoyance first: Oakeye.
Oakeye and the others continued to slay their enemies. Oakeye had just let go of an orc and let it fall when he heard the voice. The whisper in his ear that made even the tough veteran shiver for a second.
"You drunken fool. I thought you would have learned your lesson last time, when I slew over eighty out of one hundred of your missserable family," hissed the voice.
Oakeye whirled around and around in anger, looking for the owner of the voice. When he whirled around again, with his own army at his back, the rubble in front of him was clear except for the army of undead standing on it. Both sides stared at the other until Soth materialized before Oakeye's drunken face.
"At least this time you and your son will be the only Oaks to die. And right about now, your son should be whimpering under the boot heel of Dark Legion... Unless he's dead already..."
Oakeye wasted no time on words. He charged Soth and the battle raged on. The Maples and undead slammed into each other in the midst of the larger battle.
***
Tina had been slumbering peacefully, as had been her way for many months now. The land of Sosaria had a strange affect on her, making her drowsy constantly. Her newest lair had been a series of tunnels that ran underneath the Ranger Keep. The explosion that ripped the keep shook the ground enough to wake her up. Casting a spell, she teleported herself to the entranceway. As she rematerialized, she heard the sounds of men dying, the explosions that accompanied the deaths of some draconians, and vicious war cries. Looking around, she saw what was going on: a huge battle was being fought. She noticed two distinct sides fighting. She was able to make out a few of the rangers and many of the strange creatures under Oakeye's command, but she wondered where the Knights of Solamnia were. And by her calculations, it hadn't been that long since she had last seen Pirvan's clerics. She wondered why they weren't backing the small contingent of rangers. Then she took in the other group. Draconians, mostly, with some ranks of Knights of Takhisis scattered about.
She was about to take to the sky to aid the good forces, but a white cloth caught her eye. Not a white cloth...a white robe. A white robe with gold trimmings. A white robe with gold trimmings and a large rune embroidered on the front...a rune that stood for "Wrong." Casting her glance about, she first saw the Knights of the Wrong and clerics of Pirvan. Thinking that she must fly to their aid, suddenly she noticed that they were fighting against Connor! The first thought that went through her mind was that they were imposters, seeking to create a rift in the forces of good. Then she spotted him. The only lizardman to have served Pirvan as a priest: Ion Lalor. She watched in horror as he brought his flail down upon the back of a young ranger, then rended with the claws of his feet as the man fell.
Crying out in rage and grief, Tina transformed into her dragon form. She leapt into the air and charged the battlefield, tears seemingly blinding the aim of her deadly natural weapons. Pirvan, she moaned inside, why did you do this? Suddenly she knew the answer. He had done it to regain her soul, to have her back with him. I'm not worth this darkness, she said miserably as she choked back tears. She knew what she must do.
Ion had nearly collapsed to the ground in agony when he had heard the death cry of the first priest. More priests' cries had followed, and it became too much. "I follow my lord, through good or evil, whether in the dark or in the light, asss long asss the wrongss are made right," he murmured to himself, reminding himself of the prayer that he had developed in Pirvan's honor. Now he was not so sure that following into the darkness was something he could do. Ion looked around. He tried to count the number of Pirvan's followers that had fallen. Three priests and one Knight of the Wrong. Seventy-six of his troops still remained. The bodycount of Takhisis' troops was much higher, and it was but a matter of time before Pirvan's troops began to take similar casualties. Ion thought for a brief moment. Suddenly, an idea dawned on him. "Oh, great Pirvan..." he muttered, "lend me the sstrength of your ssword, if not your own sstrength. Bring into my hand the Ssword of Sstarss." Nothing happened. Not even a low-powered replica of the sword appeared, as normal clerics would recieve. "My lord Pirvan, have you forssaken uss?" Ion asked, bewildered. Suddenly, he knew. Pirvan was being weakened, somehow. He was dying. "If my god diess, then I die too!" he yelled, charging into the thick of combat with reckless abandon.
With a calm fury unmatched by anything any of the combatants had ever seen, Tina attacked the Knights of Takhisis. She burned them with her plasma breath weapon, rended them with her claws, and crushed them with a swat of her tail, heading towards one point.
The appearance of Tina shocked Ion. He had not expected Pirvan to allow her to wake. Since the trouble had first started brewing with Soth, Pirvan had used his power to keep her asleep. That either meant Pirvan has been weakened severly, or he had allowed her to wake. "Only one way to find out," Ion said. Suddenly, he was before her. His reptilian lips silently mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," as he raised his arms.
With a final hateful glance at the seeming sorrow in his eyes, Tina crashed to the ground, incapacitated by Ion Lalor's magic. Tina went down hard, falling asleep from the magic.
Ion called over the highest ranking Knight of the Wrong. "D'anthoss, take lady Tina to ssafety. We cannot have her killed by the forcess of evil, or all of Pirvan'ss ssacrificess will be for naught." D'anthos complied, casting a spell powerful enough to teleport the dragoness safely away. Several moments later the knight returned, assuring Ion that Tina was safe. "Milord, give uss sstrength," Ion wispered, as he returned to the battle. Somehow, he didn't think his prayer would be answered.
***
In the darkness of his bedchamber, Pirvan felt a warm figure against him. "Tina?" he asked weakly.
"No," came the sultry reply. "Not Tina, but your new lover. No longer will you be forced to restrain yourself with that mortal woman. I, Takhisis, shall love you. And you shall love me even as the power is sucked from your body and into my own."
Pirvan tried to resist. Takhisis had given Tina's soul back totally. If only he could defeat Takhisis' encroaching evil. If only he could drive the darkness out. But he could not; the seed had been planted too well, and the tree had dug its roots deeply into Pirvan's soul. Whispering softer than anyone could hear, Pirvan spoke his final words in this body of good. "And so came the end to a man of goodness. Taken from this holiness to the foulness of evil in the act of love, because of the emotion of love. May Paladine forgive me..."
***
The white shade turned to pitch. The black shade didn't change. "The balance is broken. The darkness did not become light as it should. It is lighter than before, but the hold evil has upon it is too great. It is up to me to right this. If I don't, not only am I destroyed, but the whole of LoK may be obliterated as well." The shades dissapeared in a flash of light.
***
Dark Legion instructed his dark knights to secure Oakbow to wooden posts on top of the hill. They chained him up tightly, with his four limbs outstretched. The stripped him of all his clothes so they wouldn't have to deal with his needs. They moved back to guard the prisoner from afar as Dark Legion interrogated him. He grabbed Oakbow by the chin with his mailed, cold hand. "Wake up, you weakling. Where is that vaunted Oak endurance at?"
Oakbow stirred and spit on Dark Legion's face. "Go to the Abyss, ya bastard!"
The annoyed Dark Legion wiped the spittle off of his face. "Ahhh... There's that fiery spirit. ...And I've already been there; you'll be going there too, soon enough." He began methodically walking around him, circling him, taking his time.
"Whatever you're gonna do, get it over with!"
"Oh, I plan on doing a lot to this misbegotten land. I wasn't exactly lying that your precious home, Sosaria, was endangered." He revealed crystals, glowing with a dark aura, in his hand. "These crystals contain the souls of that miscreant Dor. Restless little souls. Corrupted to do one task: to find and retrieve a certain little gray gem." He crushed the crystals and black, swirling mists went in all directions. "Your days are numbered." He stared at Oakbow but saw little but the grim face of defiance. "It's almost been--or has it been?--over a year since you killed me. Being dead sort-of messes with dates. Do you know how it felt? To die by your best friend's hand? I was defeated, and yet you still killed me." He shook his head as he motioned a dark knight to come forth. "Take your sword and run him through there," he pointed at Oakbow's heart. The dark knight took his sword and ran it through Oakbow slowly.
A spasm of shock and pain crossed Oakbow's face as the dark knight withdrew it.
Dark Legion then casted a healing spell on Oakbow. Just enough to keep him alive. He dismissed the knight. "Kind of felt like that. But much worse..."
"That was your best?" Oakbow moaned defiantly.
"Hardly. This is just the beginning. Abyss!" he swore, "Going cold turkey without booze for a day is torture enough for you, don't you think?" He slapped his palm against Oakbow's bobbing head. "Now, tell me. Tell me all of your plans, your dreams, your ambitions. How do you feel to be the LoK lapdog, doing a thankless job for them, hearing hundreds of complaints, listening to the prattle of the kender? But tell me one thing most of all: tell me how you could turn your back on--and kill!--someone who loved you like brother?"
"How could I turn my back on someone who loved me like a brother?!" Oakbow took a moment to spit out a tooth and cough up some blood that was making it hard for him to speak. Raising his head defiantly, he continued to labor to get his words out. "Your memory has left with your sanity, Dark Legion. The person I killed was not the same one I loved as a brother. He was a dark thing, a terrible, twisted image of the Legion I knew and loved. He was a threat to the lives of so very many I held dear in my heart. Legion died long before we met on the battlefield that fateful day. He killed himself. I know the Legion I once knew is buried deep inside you, and I know HE understands. For you, I owe no explanations, I only owe you one thing, foul being: DEATH!"
If Oakbow was hoping to to bring some sort on inner turmoil upon Dark Legion with his words, it did not work. Dark Legion's lips curled up into a cruel smile and he chuckled softly to himself. "Poor, pitiful Oakbow. You think your rationalizing can pardon you for your awful deed? You killed me! Me, who you loved as a brother! No fancy words can get you out of that!" Spittle was flying from Dark Legion's mouth as he shouted. "How dare you kill me, you bastard?! I shall make you understand the meaning of the word PAIN! You will tell me everything, your dreams, ambitions, guilts; every inner thought will be mi--"
Insane, bubbling laughter cut Dark Legion off in mid-ramble, and he saw Oakbow laughing insanely, eyes running wild, muscles bulging. The wooden posts threatened to be ripped from the ground as a suddenly-insane Oakbow began to convulse ferociously as he laughed. Dark Legion was a little bit nonplussed by this sudden cuckoo behavior, and decided to leave off until a later time when Oakbow could truly appreciate his sufferings.
As Dark Legion walked away, Oakbow, his mind working within the controlled insanity that his father had taught him so well, began to forms plans.
***
"You illegitimate, impotent, misbegotten son of a SATAN! I will rip your black rock right out of your chest! I will chew on your toes and fingers for my lunch snack! I will use your glowing eyes as my night light! I'll use that no-good black armor to wipe myself! I'll show you what happens to people that kill my family!" Screaming all this as he charged, Oakeye was downing bottle after bottle of his TNT brew, centering himself completely on his rage, forgetting the battle that had sprung up between the Maples, hippogriffs, and undead all around him. As the distance closed between himself and Soth, Oakeye was changing, he was becoming pure adrenaline, alcohol pumping through him, rage and insane hatred igniting him. Ten yards. Six yards. Three. Two. One. "AYEEEHAAAGH!!!" Oakeye brought Alemaker about in a swinging roundhouse, with enough power to split a dragon in two.
Soth, incapable of the kind of emotion Oakeye was feeling, knew that the first few minutes of this battle would be the dangerous ones for him, a time when Oakeye's incredible ability to get pumped for battle made him dangerous to any enemy, no matter how powerful. Oakeye's sword was a match for any armor and its enchantment enabled it to deal death to any being.
Oakeye's sword connected with Soth's, and Soth's arm was thrown back. Oakeye swung again, followed by a kick to the groin and a bite to the face. Both attacks were useless against Soth, but Oakeye was not rational at the moment. Oakeye began a series of attacks that were truly awe-inspiring in their speed, for the size of his sword was nearly that of his body.
Soth, more powerful than ever in his life, one of the most feared being in existence, could only continue to concentrate on putting every ounce of effort into staying alive. Chunks of his armor lay all about him from blows that he couldn't keep up with. His sword had gouges in it, and his dark soul felt the bite of the mighty Alemaker. He didn't like it.
Oakeye was in his true element. His love for his family was strong, and watching them die, knowing that this being was responsible for so much harm to those he loved--including his alcohol; twice now this unholy creature had been the cause of his alcohol stores being blown sky high!--had worked him into a god-inspired rage no one could match. Many around the battle paused in mid-fight to watch the first few minutes of the magnificent fight Oakeye was putting on. His hair streamed wildily about him, froth and drool flew from his flapping lips, blood streamed down him unnoticed, and his voice raised in a ear-piercing scream. But Oakeye was not a young man, nor an immortal one. He began to slow, and Soth began to turn from defense to offense. Oakeye began to lose ground.
Lord Soth's arms might not have ached as Oakeyes arms did, but the Death Knight had not made a single score with his sword yet. The drunk's incredible rage, agility and power, although expected by Soth, still took its toll. The mystical sword, combined with experience, had shredded pieces of Soth's armor and Soth was wounded. But the attacks were becoming less quick and ferocious, giving Soth a chance to stick his sword back at the Oak and inflict small points of damage. Oakeye was bleeding from his right arm and leg, and from a gash on his head where Soth had made a wild swing with his sword and missed. It only took a small chunk of flesh instead of severing his head. The problem, Soth knew, was that he needed to save his energy for other dealings. But he had engaged one of LoK's oldest and deadliest members first; he had had no choice.
Oakeye was definitely tired now. He was openly gasping for air, knowing that in his tired state he would be nearly incapable of resisting magic. Not that many could resist the power of Soth's magic, but Oakeye was one of them when rested.
Quickly reaching in and grabbing Oak's swordarm, he whispered his prayer. The powerful man gasped in pain as his sword fell from his weakened body. His legs felt as if they could no longer support his weight. Even the effort of keeping his head up was too much. The weaken spell had taken its toll. Soth stepped back to prepare another spell, and was amazed as Oakeye weakly and slowly picked up his sword, leaving it hanging limply at his side. "You die first...then your ssson," hissed the Death Knight, mockingly waiting for Oak's actions.
With a strength that nearly none possesed, Oakeye resisted the magic and swung his sword in a huge arc. The blow would have shattered any mortal man, but Soth had already vanished and reappeared behind him. As Oakeye's sword smashed to the ground, lodging tightly, Soth's undead hands reached around the back of Oakeye's head and onto his face. The feel of the unbearable undead touch made Oakeye freeze in pain. He did not let out a scream until Soth's undead fingers pushed into his eye sockets and ripped backwards, tearing half his face off along with eyes in the process. Oakeye fell, face first, onto the ground, screaming in agony.
"You'd better hope the healers make it to you quickly; you're losing a lot of blood," said Soth. With that, he stepped over Oakeye's writhing body and walked into the midst of the Maples, slashing and killing. Never once did he assume Oakeye was down for the count. The Death Knight constantly kept an eye out for the drunk who would let nothing short of death stop him.
No one quite knew what was happening in the skies above of the keep. The sound of dragon roars and cries could be heard over the carnage below. Occasionally, a dragon--gold or red or some other color--would fall from the skies, crushing ground troops or slamming into the forest. Blood dripped from the sky. The gods only knew what was happening up there.
Down below, things weren't looking too bad for the Soth's army. The rubble where the keep had stood was the center of the most vicious fighting, where the Maples and Oakeye's army had come to a standstill with the undead hordes. The ents in the forest were having trouble with the flying harpies who were carrying torches and flasks of oil, dropping them like bombs onto the giant trees. The rangers had come together in front of the ents, firing bows into the air at the harpies when they could, but the ground forces were pressing them tightly.
Soth knew what they had come to the keep for, and his objective must be accomplished. He sent word to the Lich Commander to gather several of the most powerful of his kind. It did not take long to get them as five liches appeared before their general and listened to his orders. Combining their powers, the liches began to cast while being protected by Soth himself. The spell took several minutes to cast, and when it finally launched, an invisible barrier stood in a large dome shape around most of the keep. The wall of force stood over the center of the keep mostly. The undead and a few stragglers: the Maples, the downed Oakeye, and a few other LoKs and rangers were all that was left in the dome. The wall of force had even cleaved several flying creatures in mid-air: a harpie, a daemon and a vampire lord. Calling to several creatures not in the fray, Soth ordered them to dig into the rubble below them, instructing them to inform him the minute they recovered the guildstone.
In the meantime, the cage match-style battle raged on, the undead having the advantage of no feelings and great numbers.
***
Far away, deep in the woods, the young rangers that were sent to attack the keep of Dark Legion were living a nightmare that would wake them from their sleep for years to come...the night the Soth betrayed them and the evil dragons dropped hundreds of draconians into their midsts. The monsters had fallen from the skies, their wings spread as they gracefully floated down. It was almost a beautiful sight in the moonlight, until the contorted faces of the reptile men could be seen snarling or jeering at the scared troops below.
The beauty was further broken when an arrow struck home and sent a dead draconian crahing the ground in its postmortum stone form, killing a young ranger and wounding several others when it exploded. The shots into the air were stopped too late, as some others died as dead draconians dripped acid onto the troops below. The troops below awaited the landings of the draconians with a patience and discipline that only Connor could bestow on them. Some of the monsters landed in trees, others on the ground. It didn't matter where, really; the rangers where in their domain: the forest. Their woodslore and love of their home gave them the courage to cut down incredible amounts of draconians with few losses.
It was when Ion's troops betrayed the rangers and attacked them that the battle swung directions. The Knights of the Wrong inflicted huge amounts of damge to the rangers, as any betrayal by an ally would. For the young men and women of the LoK rangers, it was a night of horror where brother betrayed brother, brother accidentally killed brother, and brother died in brother's arms. Even though the rangers had the upper hand in the battle, and consistently rallied to show who was the stonger, it was a night none of them would forget for a very long time...
***
Nicodarious couldn't believe what he had just seen. Silverwind, a long-time friend and companion, had just decapitated Connor, proclaiming his apparent hatred for Connor and his ideals! Anger began to burn inside Nic. Hatred fueled his rage. First Soth went back on his word. Then Ion betrayed us as well. Now this! It was too much. Locking his eyes on Silverwind, Nicodarious quickly chanted the word to a spell. "Vas Flam!" he spat. Fueled by anger, the fireball had more power than it would have had normally. It slammed into Silverwind full in the chest, sending him flying backwards. He slammed into a tree, momentarily stunned. It unfortunately also consumed what was left of Connor's corpse. Nic drew his sword and charged Silverwind.
Silverwind saw death coming at him and began to chant a spell of his own. "Kal Ort--" was as far as he got before Nic's sword slid into his midsection, going out his back, and pinning him to the tree.
"There is no escaping what you have done," Nic proclaimed. "You can just hang there and watch the battle unfold until you die. You get to witness the horror you helped create as you bleed to death. I loved you like a brother, once. Now you can go rot in the Abyss!" With that, Nic punched Silverwind in the face for good measure, and left his sword holding up the groaning betrayer. Entering back into the main battle, Nic yelled, "For Connor and the rangers, we will kill them all!" The rangers rallied and began to fight with a frenzy. Nicodarious wept for those lost.
***
Back in Pirvan's domicile in Informatia, on the Astral plane, not a sound could be heard. The people, at Pirvan's request, had evacuated long ago. Not even the Guardian of Dead Gods, who had recently taken an interest in Informatia, was around. The only thing present was Pirvan, or what appeared to be him. His limbs hung limp at his sides. He slouched down in his chair, and his legs dangled uselessly. His face was unanimated, slack and showing no emotion whatsoever. His once-white robes were grayed and tattered. A huge gaping wound could be seen in the center of his chest, oozing fluids.
"By the overpowers! What has happened?" asked a visitor to the city. "Never have I seen a power in such a sad state. Even the deceased ones are more attractive to look at."
"I...am not...dead," came the voice of Pirvan. The body made no motion at all, but the voice came from his direction.
"No, you aren't. You have been forced into an unnatural undeath by Takhisis' evil. You are nothing but her pawn, now."
"I...had to...do it. For...Tina."
"Love? What is love, in the face of betrayal? What is emotion to a dead man? What is sacrifice to an unholy queen? And what do any of these things mean to the friends on whom you turned? They are being slaughtered by Soth's troops and, now, by your own."
"As long...as Tina...is alright."
"She has awoken. Yes, I allowed it. But your priest--who is it?--Ion, he put her back to sleep. Be thankful. She was being reckless and would have gotten herself killed if she hadn't been stopped. She knows what you've done."
"She knows?"
"Yes. She deduced it after seeing Ion. Bad idea, sending your head priest. Had you put D'athos in charge, she may have been able to convice herself he had turned traitor on you. But not Ion; he's too loyal. She knew he was following your orders."
"What does...she think...of me?"
"Oh, I don't know. I would kill you, if I were her. But then I'm not her, and she does--or at least she did--love you. Maybe she can forgive you, but don't expect me to be so redeeming."
"What do...you mean...you won't...forgive?"
"I've come here to kill you, Pirvan. It's the only way to keep Takhisis from devouring my essence, too. She's already gotten Navrip's soul, and she would have yours if you weren't a god. But she's close to breaking you completely. If she does, I'm next, and I can't stand alone. She can't have my power as well. Power over Good, Evil, and Neutrality would be too much."
"Who...are...you?" Pirvan asked in horror.
"I am Rivpan, the Keeper of the Balance. The scale that balances the good and evil in your soul and Navrip's."
"How can...you kill...me?"
"Because I am the Slayer." Rivpan slowly advanced on Pirvan's unmoving body. Its mouth twitched slightly as Pirvan issued a scream horrible enough to curdle a tanar'ri's blood.
***
Deep in the dark cellar of Silverwind's forge, Connor awoke with a gasp of pain and a thought of remembrance. "The war... Damn, it feels like days since the I fell in battle--more by choice than anything." Quickly, he dressed and pulled out his enchanted blade, feeling the awesome might of the sword forged of the essence of Nature itself. Connor felt its power renewing him and revitalizing his body.
Then, in front of him, a white unicorn appeared. Shimmering, Melikki, the goddess of the forest, spoke to her chosen champion. "Connor, take these two gifts. First, this armband it will heal thy wounds in battle. Be careful, though, as you will still feel their sting for a time. Second, this elven stone of power will allow your blade to strike Soth in his new form, though it still will be thy arm that must wield the blade. The stone will unerringly return to thy hand."
Melikki disappeared without so much as a goodbye, leaving the gifts laying on the ground. Connor grimmaced and began to dress.
***
Shortly before the fall of Neverwinter to Almighty Chaos, Lord Evil had seen fit to return to his abode in the Abyss and wait to fight another day. Since the rest of LoK had decided to try to stay and fight Chaos, Evil had thought that he might be the last LoK and that he could rebuild it in his own image. But, witnessing the last moments of Neverwinter's destruction in his scrying pool, he had watched as hundreds of portals sprung up and LoKs disappeared into them, one by one, to reappear gods-only-knew-where.
One LoK in particular he had paid particular attention to: Lord Soth. Evil had always considered himself one of Takhisis' favorites, and he coveted her favor above all else. Evil was a being or pure malice and hate, with power matched by few--if any at all--he believed. Unbeknownst to Soth, during Evil's short time with the KoT he could barely contain his hatred of Soth and his jealousy of Takhisis' attentions spent on Soth. He was Takhisis' chosen one, not Soth! He had managed to contain himself and not attack Soth only because he knew patience beyond mortal comprehension. Evil had been alive a long, long, long time. His power had grown to towering heights when he had given his soul to Takhisis and set up his home in the Abyss.
He had never seen a good opportunity to make a move against Soth in Neverwinter, but he had not forgotten his hatred. He had spent months feverishly scouring countless worlds in his search for Soth, and, finally, had found him in a land called Sosaria--actually on the splinter replica world called Britannia. Once he found him, he set about learning everything he could of the world, visiting often in disguise, to master its ways, and spying constantly on Soth. He watched as more and more LoKs found their way to this land, and new recruits were added to the depleted LoK ranks. Many times, some inner loyalty he didn't realize existed almost drew him to the aid of LoKs in need, for this world seemed incredibly deadly and harsh. It was a world he truly admired and one in which he could see himself as Lord.
He chuckled to himself as he saw Soth once again begin a new campaign against the good side of LoK, and twitched in spite of himself at Soth's new power. He laughed as the LoKs accepted Soth's truce, and plans began to immediately form within his mind. He saw a chance, one he might not have again for a very long time indeed. Soth's army was small now, and his followers not nearly as strong as in times past. He knew it was time to make his move. He would prove to Takhisis who was the stronger, who was truly the most deserving of her blessing. The LoKs feared Soth...wait till they could bear full witness to the fury of EVIL!
He set about organizing his army within the Abyss, throwing caution to the wind and preparing to launch a full assault, leaving his home in the Abyss unguarded as he hoped to be rewarded much more from Takhisis herself after his victory! Mighty pit fiends, gelugeons, and many, many more baatezu joined ranks upon ranks of imps, hellhounds, kobold slaves, goblin slaves, ogre slaves, and troll slaves. Slavering, hissing beasts whose names were unknown to mortal men were scattered throughout his army. Huge, misshapen, deadly forms flew about above his army. He was ready. He led his army through the series of gates he had constructed as soon as he had come to know of the Ranger Keep, for he had thought to take it to impress Takhisis before he had learned of Soth's plans.
Now, his armies poured through and into the land called Britannia. Evil became a black ball of blackest light, pulsating in its evil and hatred, wilting the plants and wildlife it passed in the land of Britannia. His army raised a battle cry that sent ripples through the trees and shook the ground with their charge. Cresting a small rise, Evil came upon the scene of battle before the blasted and ruined keep, took in the dome encasing a wild melee, and changed back into his human form. Long black hair flowing from his deep black robes, he raised his pale white hands with black, curling, needle-sharp finger nails and signaled the attack. Down the rise his army poured, screaming for blood, their targets anything and everything that didn't have its soul owned by Evil.
***
Dark Legion left Oakbow under the guard of his dark knights. He sat on a boulder overlooking the hill, still within sight of Oakbow. He wondered how Soth was faring at the keep. The idiot struck too soon. Soth should have struck at a point where he could have supported a strike at Connor's expeditionary force. Instead, here he was idly standing by, while blood was being spilled a day's ride away. He looked back at Oakbow and saw that Wing Commander Dales was giving him some water to drink. He grabbed a stone and threw it at her. The stone hit her in the head and she turned around to see who had hit her. She saw a disapproving shake of his head and she stomped off. Stupid woman, he thought, probably falling to his charms, no doubt. He stared at Oakbow for long moments. For a second, he even thought about releasing him and then about ripping out all of his other teeth. The women would have to call him "gums," then. It would be funny. But his fate would be like all the others, none the less.
"I wish I was home," he thought aloud. His mace appeared in his hand, as he had forgotten momentarily that its activation name was "home." It made him think of a simpler and happier time, before the Wharves, before the bombs, before... He gripped the mace harder and began demolishing the boulder he was sitting on. "Damn it! Curse you, Soth! Curse you all!" he screamed. His voice turned into a whisper. "The souls will return with the gem, then all will pay for their sins..."
***
Connor, fully dressed, walked out of Silverwind's forge to where Silverwind had left Symphony grazing on new clover and alfalfa grasses. Gently, he mounted her and patted her stong neck. "We have a long way to go this time, lass," he said to her, "but it will be worth it, I am sure." Turing east, away from the Ranger Keep and the raging battle, Connor began to ride off towards distant Britain. His armor and such gleamed in the daylight.
***
The guildstone must not fall to Soth, kept ringing through Talmorr's head. Those were the last words Paladine had said before handing him his new blade and disappearing. Made from obsidianite and carved with runes, Talmorr could feel the power of the blade. He wondered if it would be enough against Soth's new power. Shaking his head, he heard the reports from his lieutenants: The battle raged below... Pirvan had betrayed them... Connor had fallen (but Talmorr could feel him; he knew Connor was not dead)... The Maples had charged... Oakbow had disappeared... His father was battling Soth... The keep was destroyed, and Soth had erected a dome of force around the rubble. Sighing, Talmorr knew it was time. Turning to the white robes, he nodded. With a word, the wall of silence and invisibility was dispelled.
Gaping at the wall of mounted knights charging them from the ground and from above, the hordes of orcs, harpies, and other misshapen creatures melted as dragonbreath, lance, and sword tore into them and through them. Screaming, the survivors fled in every direction.
But the knights did not pursue; they had their orders. Straight for the ruins they charged, up to the dome of force, led by Talmorr. Inside, the battle raged, the undead ignoring the knights--secure in the knowledge that the dome protected them. That was the last thought many that could still think ever thought. For the few who were actually looking, the last sight they ever saw was Talmorr standing with his sword raised with both hands. Then a flash, as the sword struck against the dome and it dissipated.
Above the din of battle, a cry was heard from Talmorr: "Charge!" The knights charged into the undead. The battle raged on.
***
Connor arrived at Britain and wasted no time walking into the castle, seeking an audience with Lord Ogdell of the Virtue Guards. Connor's shield, and his status as a Great Lord, assured him quick admittance.
Lord Ogdell greeted him and had him sit down. "Now, Lord Connor, what can I do for you, today?"
Connor sighed. "For a time, now, I have served as a Great Lord in the Virtue Guards. I come to submit my petition for assistance. My guild is involved in a war that has dire conquences for each and every man, woman, and child here on Sosaria. I ask that I be granted fifty of the Virtue Guards to go forth and assist me in this battle. I do not ask for other Great Lords or such, but just for the common footmen we all watch guard our towns every day."
Ogdell eyed Connor for a time, then slowly spoke, "Connor you have served the Guard well, and oft we have heard of your great deeds, but what you ask for is no small measure. I will consider your request for a day and then return to thee."
Connor bowed to Ogdell and excused himself. When out of the Lord's sight, he fumed as time wasted...
***
So cold, Pirvan thought. I can't see, or smell, or feel, or hear. Where am I? He tried to move a part of his body, but he couldn't. He didn't even know if he still had a body. Am I dead? he asked in his mind. He had died before, but it had been nothing like this. Fool, he chided himself, you're still the Power of Corrections. Your mind will never go. Maybe you have died, and because Takhisis drained away your energy, you are now stuck in the Abyss. Maybe this is some vile form of torture. Pirvan then ignored that reasoning. There were billions of more horrible tortures for the baatezu and Takhisis to inflict upon him than simple disembodiment. He had learned long ago how to entertain himself with his mind. He was positive he could do it for millenia. Suddenly, a grim thought went through him. Perhaps I am dead. I am a god, after all. Maybe this is what all the forgotten and slain powers feel like. Disembodied minds, trapped in the timeless Astral, unable to feel anything or to even contact another being. Pirvan guessed that was what had happened. So, I am doomed to float endlessly, a corpse to be scoffed at by the Athar until the end of the multiverse. Perhaps Ion or some other priest will--
Pirvan's thoughts were cut off by a sudden gush of sensation. The first thing he noticed was that he could see a beautiful blue sky. Then he realized that he could hear a battle raging about him. Finally, he regained his sense of touch and noticed that his entire body felt like it was on fire. Pirvan unleashed a blood-curdling scream of pain. Never in his life had he felt so injured. He thought that surely he should be dead; no creature, power or otherwise, could take this sort of pain and live. Suddenly, he heard voices near him.
"Get this man to the back lines! If the healers don't get to him quickly, he'll die!"
Pirvan recognized the voice; it was Talmorr's.
"Yes sir!" another voice said.
Pirvan didn't recognize this one, but he could tell by his tone that the man was a knight. Pain shot through Pirvan's body as the man lifted him and began to carry him away.
Talmorr looked after the quickly retreating knight. "And, Sir Tabord, make sure to tell the healers to magically restrain him after they've treated him," he said.
"Sir?" asked the knight, confused.
"Do it!" Talmorr barked. The knight continued on to the healers. Talmorr looked after them. The white and gold robes were unmistakably Pirvan's, yet none of his priests were near this battle... Strange... "We shall have answers, Pirvan, and justice. Do not doubt that for an instant," he whispered after them, before turning back to reenter the fighting.
***
Finally there was a lull in the woodland battle far from the keep. Night had once again descended, and both sides fell back to lick their wounds. Soth's troops had taken a serious pounding, but, unfortunately, thanks to the betrayal of Ion, Connor's rangers had taken a worse one.
Looking around and seeing no other officers present, Nicodarious spoke up. "We need to depart this field of battle under cover of night, and make our way back to the keep. The real battle is being fought there, and we should do our best to see that it comes out with us on top."
Of those that were left, many agreed, but some were worried about leaving the draconians and Ion's troops at their backs.
"There is nothing we can do here, except die in battle," Nic said. "And while there is nothing wrong with doing so, doing so needlessly is a waste. We may be able to make a difference at the keep, and if we can defeat Soth there, these others behind us won't have the backbone to continue the battle. Now what say you?"
A resounding, "Aye!" filled the darkness, and Nic smiled. "Now, no one knows the woods the way we do. I want pitfalls and all manner of traps from here to the keep. They may follow, but they will do so slowly. Hopefully, this will give us at least a one-day jump on them. I have one thing to take care of before we set out. Start breaking camp immediately, and regroup one hour before sunrise to the east of the keep. If it is safe to do so, make contact with whatever officers are leading that battle and do as they tell you. Good luck to us all."
So saying, Nicodarious headed over to the tree where he had left Silverwind pinned by his sword. He thought to himself, I will probably regret this, but I want his body back with me so I can resurrect him and he can stand a proper trial if we make it out of this thing alive. However, upon arriving at the tree, he noted that Silverwind was gone! Nic's sword was stuck in the ground near the base of the tree, and there seemed to be a piece of cloth tied to the hilt. Untying the cloth, Nic saw there was writing on it, apparently in blood, which read:
I'm sorry. You will understand soon.
S.
Swearing, Nic tossed the piece of cloth to the side and grabbed his sword, placing it back in its sheath. Before leaving, however, he stepped up to the tree and placed his hands on it, chanting the words of healing, "In Vas Mani," and repairing the damage he had inflicted with his sword. Silently, Nic headed out to rejoin the departing rangers, and to do his utmost to see that Soth fell.
***
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
***
