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To the Forgotten

The day in Arvandor was full of warmth and light.

Pilin'Solor's golden eyes sparkled with delight. He'd decided to play a game with Solonor Thelandira.

Pilin'Solor took his form as a flying unicorn. His amber hued coat complimented his wings, mane and hooves of fire. The barbed, golden horn shined brightly when hit by the light of the sun.

He pranced around from tree to tree and dared Solonor to try and hunt him.

Solonor knew the game of hunting Pilin'solor was less for Pilin'Solor's pleasure and more for the unicorn avoiding the duty Corellon had given him.

If Pilin'Solor wanted someone to hunt him for fun, he should have awakened Eillistraee.

Frustrated, Pilin'Solor, shifted back to his elven form and sighed.

His tawny skin retained the pale amber hue he had in his unicorn form.

His reddish amber mane fell just past his knees in a riot of waves, resembling the fire which made up his mane in his other form.

On his forehead, a small golden oval with a blood red swirl glittered softly in the waning light. The mark indicated the spot where Pilin'Solor's horn emerged when he changed shape.

Pilin'Solor gave Solonor a playful smile and wink as he brushed a stray strand of his hair from his forehead. He stretched and posed a moment before he dressed himself with a wave of his hand.

He pulled back, looped and tied his hair up in a topknot as he swaggered towards Corellon's grove.

Pilin'Solor, or just Pilin for short, swore he heard Solonor snort, "Cocky, prick." on the wind.

As Labelas Enoreth's shining orb began to dip low before the trees, he knew his role as a god had to be tended to.

Pilin'Solor was the god of pathways and protection. He protected the souls of mortal elves that died to this heaven. In his role as a psychopomp, he issued the call to Arvandor to the souls of the dead.

He took his job with pride and amusement. He always loved a good, honest, fight. He relished the chance to thwart a demon or two along the golden road while he protected the elven souls.

His secondary role was that of Corellon Larethian's battle mount. His symbol reflected that function. An amber, bearded unicorn head with a golden barb tipped horn faced Corellon's crescent moon. Wings of fire behind the head completed the circular symbol.

Pilin did not like the role as battle mount as well as his other role, but it did allow him to get into a fight and show off his mastery of fire.

Battle was the only time Corellon allowed Pilin to serve as his personal bodyguard, a role Pilin would have gladly taken on full time if Corellon had allowed it.

Being a god had it's drawbacks, but Pilin'Solor took each setback in stride, as was his nature.

Much of the Seldarine treated him as if he was the immortal equivalent of a whipping boy, since most loathed him. The cutting comments from the others did not matter. Corellon loved him like a brother, and his opinion was all that mattered.

Pilin loved Corellon dearly. Any sacrifice of Pilin's character meant nothing, as long as he served his sovereign well. Pilin was glad to follow any command Corellon gave him, no matter what, or how disgusting some of the duties got. Sometimes Pilin stalled in his duties, but he never cast them aside.

Erevan Ilesere sneaked up behind Pilin. In Erevan's usual mischievous, silent way, it was an attempt to cheer his half-brother up.

The two shared the same mother, although Pilin did not know so when he first met Erevan.

Pilin's mother confessed who she was when he met for the first time since he was a small infant. Erevan insisted that she stay in Arvandor, and she was shocked to find her discarded son also in residence.

She constantly apologized for her behavior after Pilin's birth. She did not want to be forced to stay in the harsh climate of Mithardir. Plus, her attraction to the god Yathaghera, Pilin's father, had waned.

"Where are you going, Pilin?" Erevan whispered into his brother's ear.

Pilin jumped in surprise. "I hate it when you do that. And, you know good and well where I am going."

"Oh, don't be angry."

"It is not you I am upset at, little brother. It is that one duty overpowers another right now."

Erevan chuckled, "Ah, you are upset because Corellon refused to let you in on his personal fight with the orc."

"My own quarrel with Gruumsh is nearly as valid as his..." Pilin began.

"I know, I know. You have said it hundreds of times. 'Just because my father was Yathaghera, the god of the Pegasi and Unicorns, I get left behind.' And then you say, 'We wench, drink and fight together. We were both there when that piece of filth started this tirade. I should have a chance to humiliate that orc's hide too.' That is what you were thinking."

Pilin shook his head, "I know Corellon wants this to be a one-on-one fair fight, as always, but it still does not seem right, or even to me. Orcs breed like vermin, so Gruumsh has more worshipers. It worries me. Corellon is more than my sovereign lord, he is my best friend. I just don't want him to be overpowered."

Erevan stepped in front of Pilin and got a rare, serious look on his face. "You act like he will not put the orc down with his face in the mud again."

"Oh, I am certain he will. He always does. It is just that this is the first time since Vhaeraun and Eillistraee were born that he has fought that filthy excuse for a god. I thought since Corellon settled down, I would get my chance, finally."

"It is not as if you do not have children. Sehanine will not let you forget that."

"Yes, but Lashrael and Felarathael no longer speak to me, and have not since their mother no longer wished my attentions. I think our constant bickering drove them away. The twins have not spoken to anyone except Corellon, for that matter, for centuries." He said as he pushed past Erevan.

Erevan followed closely behind as Pilin made his way to the grove of rememberence to pick up the list of souls to call.

"It is more than that, isn't it? I can tell. You can keep no secrets from me, brother."

Pilin glanced over at Araushnee as she sat in the grove weaving. He furrowed his brow a moment, sighed and shook his head.

"Now is not the time to talk about that." Pilin turned and whispered. "Perhaps later."

"Ah," Erevan whispered back, "Is the consort bothering you again?"

Pilin urged Erevan closer "Araushnee expects me to cow tow before her as I do to Corellon" He motioned for Erevan to follow.

"She knows you are not just a god, but an Ohthon. She knows better than to ask the impossible."

Pilin chuckled, "Yes, but it does not stop her from trying."

Ohthons, sometimes called Kirins, were a great mystery among the gods, and as rare as they were mysterious. No god was sure exactly what their function was. The only difference in them and other gods seemed to be their resistance to damage, their inherit ability to switch form, and that they supplicated themselves fully to one other god.

Pilin knew of only two other Ohthons, Nikka, a dwarf who could transform into a hot forge, who served Moradin in Erakinor and Zhalt, a githyanki who transformed into a mass of sulfur, who served the Litch-Queen on the Astral Plane.

Pilin often suspected that the Lady of Pain in Sigil was a Ohthon who chose to serve no master, but he had no wish to test his theory.

The lowest tier of Arborea, Mithardir, had once been the home of the Ohthons and their nursemaid guardians. The destruction of Mithardir, and death of those giant sized guardians was likely the reason for the rarity and imminent extinction of his type of god creature.

Pilin instinctively knew any creature born on Mithardir was infused with the strange, and often useless power of cow towing to another god. The power seemed to belong to Mithardir itself.

Whether the Ohthons were part of the original inhabitants or gods that settled there later, none knew.

"She has no clue of what an Ohthon is, Pilin." Erevan piped up angrily.

"True, brother. An Othon can only obey one master, and mine is Corellon. Even if Corellon ordered me to obey her, he would have to make the terms of obedience very specific. He doesn't believe it's worth the bother. He knows I have enough duties to keep me sufficiently occupied."

"Corellon should give her the whip..." Erevan continued to complain about Araushnee and devised plans to get back at the dark skinned female for being so foolish.

Pilin ignored the plotting. He looked at the path and forest of Arvandor and felt blessed. His mind wandered back into his musings. He remembered his youth.

Pilin grew quickly to young adulthood in a matter of weeks after his birth. He was born in his elven form, but uncontrollably switched to winged unicorn and back without warning.

It took Pilin several more months to master keeping his two forms stable.

Pilin's father, the winged unicorn was often visited to insure Pilin was healthy, but the visits were short. Eventually, Yathaghera never returned. Despite knowing that his father was not coming back, Pilin'Solor made a habit of wandering outside the buried spire to wait and welcome his father.

Erevan slapped Pilin on the arm. "Are you listening to me Pilin? If we sneak into her villa and take the bottle of sticky goo she uses in her paint, we can put it on one of her web capes and wrap her in it. That would keep her from bothering you for a while."

"She wants in my bed, Erevan. She's upset because I refuse. " Pilin sighed, "I'ts not merely out of loyalty, either. I just don't like her."

"Ooh, now that's a tidbit I could use for blackmail..." Erevan went back to plotting aloud.

Pilin smiled to himself as he remembered the jokes and games he would play on visitors to Mithardir.

Treasure hunters often invaded the tier. Pilin enjoyed watching them fuss about.

Mostly, he avoided the treasure hunters, but he wasn't above playing a practical joke or two to relive his fear and boredom. Pilin, would stand, wearing nothing but his amulet and spouted fire from his feet and fingers to rile the invaders of his home. It scared the thieves senseless.

"You lost in your head again, Pilin?" Erevan said as he tried to trip his brother. "Well, just watch your feet." He snickered. "I'll take care of everything. Araushnee will get mad, complain and Corellon will laugh, then they both will."

"Just warn Corellon before you do."

Pilin's mind wandered again. He always mused about the past when his liege was gone. He missed Corellon terribly. He loved his brother, Erevan, but somehow, it wasn't quite the same. Corellon was the brother of Pilin's heart.

Pilin remembered the day on Mithardir when he met Corellon. He was resting against a weathered structure when the wind brought an odd scent to his nostrils.

Another god was on Mithardir, and it was not Pilin's father.

Pilin immediately switched to his winged unicorn form and went to investigate.

A young god who seemed to be physically just a little older than himself was digging through the sand to reach an opening in one of the buried buildings. Pilin switched back to his elven form, hid in the shadow of a small dune and watched. Scaring away mortal thieves was one thing, dealing with gods was another.

The young, golden haired finally sighed and waved his hand His action caused the sand to part and reveal the door in the sand.

The god went inside and exited the buried building a few moments later frustrated and enraged . Pilin decided he had enough of watching the god. He crawled his way along the sand back to his home in the buried spire than to avoid the angered god.

Once back inside his home, Pilin barricaded the door. The young, golden god frightened Pilin deep into the core of his being, and Pilin was rarely frightened of anything.

Pilin crouched and hid behind a pile of rubble when he heard someone trying to force open the door. He put his hands over his face and wished he could make himself invisible.

Pilin listened to the god stomp around the room and search through various piles of rubble. He slowly took his hands from his eyes. He shook uncontrollably, afraid of what the god would do once he found him.

Pilin was awed at the way the golden haired god cleared away the rubble blocking the doorway to the stairwell with ease. Pilin stood and slowly and let out the breath he did not know he was holding.

The god suddenly whipped around and stormed towards Pilin.

Pilin let out a frightened yelp and ran to the opposite side of the room.

The god stopped "You there, is this the Hall of the Guardians? Tell me, is this where the Font of Power lies?" he barked out.

Pilin whined and backed himself up to the stone wall and slid to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, closed his eyes tight and rocked back and forth.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. Can you speak?" The god's voice was still firm and authoritative, but no longer held frustration.

"I.. I can speak." Pilin slowly raised his head and opened his eyes. He prostrated himself, placing his head at the god's feet.

"Is this the hall of the guardians?"

"Yes, this buried spire was once called that."

The god let out a deep breath. "Good. Now, can you direct me to the Font of Power?"

"I have never explored anywhere except the upper rooms. I know nothing of a Font of Power."

"Did your master never see fit to give you clothing?"

Pilin shook his head. "I have never had clothes. They become ruined too quickly and too often."

The god shook his head turned and went back to the doorway to the stairwell.

"I will go with you." Pilin said, "I don't want anything to surprise me unexpectedly once you go away. Although I doubt anything within is very powerful."

The god turned back and blinked, "You live here in this wasteland? Who did this? Did someone maroon you here to die? None of my children should be treated so harshly. I will need to punish the one who did so."

"No, you misunderstand. I, Pilin'Solor, was born here, in this room. Here is all I have ever known." Pilin shrugged his shoulders and shook his head like a horse adjusting its mane. He pulled his hair back and tied it into a rough topknot. "My father stayed for a while, but had other duties that took him away. I do not usually become unnerved at visitors to Mithardir, but you are a god, not a mere treasure hunter."

"You do not know who I am?" Corellon looked at Pilin in shock. "You are an elf, yet you do not know who I am? Do you not feel that it is me, your god and creator, Corellon Larethian?"

Pilin shrugged, "I am a demigod. I simply sensed that you were a more powerful god than me, and deserved my obedience."

Corellon laughed, "You? A demigod? How ludicrous. I alone am the only god of the three tiers of Arborea, and there will only be more when I find the treasure to aid me in my goal."

Pilin stood utterly still as Corellon circled around, studying every inch of Pilin's form. He took a closer look at the medallion on the chain and frowned slightly as he brushed it with his fingers.

"You wear a variation of my symbol. Who is your father, your mother?"

"Yathaghera is my father, I do not remember my mother."

"The god of unicorns and winged mounts? You are a unicorn?"

Pilin nodded. "Half. This is the form I gained from my mother, so my father said. My other form is a fire winged unicorn."

Corellon nodded. "I see. I must apologize then for mocking you." He crossed his arms before heading through the door to the stone stairwell. "Your mother must have been an elf. It is the only explanation why my symbol is part of yours."

Corellon and Pilin'Solor explored the lower levels of the spire, only to find a scrying bowl carved into the floor that was fed continuously by a small trickle of water that slid down one of the walls.

Pilin did not care to look into the small pool. He was glad to have an extra source of water.

Corellon looked into the Font of Power, spoke a word, gazed intensely at the surface of the water, then looked back at Pilin and laughed so loud his voice reverberated off the slick stone walls. "You are the Ohthon. I expected the treasure to be an object, not a demigod. The vision says that I must simply accept your service in order to have the power to create more gods for my people."

Erevan shook Pilin's arm, "You are staring off at nothing again."

Pilin shook his head and smiled as he swaggered towards the podium that held the scroll of the dead. "Just remembering when I first met Corellon."

Pilin whistled a bawdy tune as he picked up the scroll where it waited for him to retrieve.

Erevan stayed silent as Pilin opened the scroll on his way to the gate that lead to the golden road.

Pilin gasped, "There are so many, enough to populate an entire realm."

Erevan snatched the scroll from Pilin's hands. "That can't be right. Corellon would not destroy an entire realm, not now while he is in his duel with Gruumsh. It would weaken him."

Pilin snatched the scroll back. "It makes no sense." His hands began to shake. "Sehanine should have corrected this oversight before it reached me."

"What will you do now?"

"There is nothing I can do, little brother. Once I opened the scroll, the names were called and the realm was doomed to die. I must go and guide the souls, and keep them from danger."

Pilin leaped through the portal as the scroll crumbled to golden dust.

The golden road was more treacherous than it had ever been.

With the excess of souls making the journey, more soul eaters, and other evil monsters were prowling to snatch any souls that lagged behind.

He shot his arrows of golden flame into the tentacles of many beasts that lurked. His moon shaped, sacred bow, Nyelletumline, Larethian's protector, tolled like a somber bell when the arrows were released. Golden fire arrows appeared magically whenever Pilin pulled back the string.

Luckily, few of the souls panicked. Yet, because of sheer numbers, those souls that did become unsettled kept Pilin on his toes.

Frightened souls attracted more of the enemy beasts. The beasts liked the taste of fear.

Pilin schooled his emotions whenever he was unable to reach a soul in time.

Suddenly, Sehanine Moonbow's voice rang through his ears. "Pilin! Open the gate to Nishrek!"

Pilin groaned. He did not need his former lover's theatrics to unsettle him or the herd of souls in his care.

He quickened the pace of the souls. It would attract the attention of the soul eaters, but he had no choice.

"I am busy. Open the gate yourself."

"Then become un-busy! Corellon is hurt, badly! The gate is sealed!"

"That is impossible!" Pilin said as he rushed the souls into Arvandor as quickly as he could. "No orc, even a god, has the means to seal one of my gates!"

"Nevertheless, it is sealed. Our sovereign lord will die if I can not get to him. Sahandrian is broken!"

He pushed the remaining souls the last few steps. Some he physically picked up and hurled through the portal.

Pilin rushed through the gate and closed it behind him.

He made his way across the forest to the spot where the gate to Nishrek lie.

He concentrated a moment as he tuned into his form as a fiery winged unicorn.

His horn glowed brightly. A line of golden flame shot out from the horn. It dissipated the seal on the gate.

Sehanine rushed through the portal without a glance or word of thanks to Pilin.

Pilin changed back to his elven form and sank to his knees.

Part of him wanted to be jealous of the way she was acting, but he could not.

Pilin was no match for Corellon when it came to females, and he well knew it.

Pilin had been horribly possessive and extremely cruel to Sehanine. It was no wonder she gave him no regard now.

A scream came from the direction of the portal to the golden road.

The soul eaters were pushing through. It should have been just as impossible as the gate to Nishrek being sealed.

Pilin rushed to seal the portal. "You will not sully Arvandor with your putrid presence." He hissed out.

He tossed his moon shaped, golden bow into a copse of trees

He pulled his sword, severed the lone intruding tentacle and threw it back through the portal.

As he fought to keep the unstable gate closed with his own hands, someone walked up slowly behind Pilin.

At first, Pilin believed the person would lend him a little help so he could switch forms and repair the gate.

"You are strong Pilin'Solor, but you can not hold that gate closed forever." The male whispered.

"Vhaeraun, quit playing and help me."

Vhaeraun blew hot breath directly into Pilin's ear. "I do not think so." His voice was filled with malice.

A sharp pain lanced through Pilin's back.

"Tell me how much my daggers hurt, Pilin'Solor." Vhearaun sneered as he twisted the dagger, and stabbed Pilin a second time with his second dagger.

Pilin screamed in pain, but continued to keep his hands on the gate and his mind on repairing the gate. In elven form, his power over portals was diminished. It took great effort to maintain the portal and fight off the pain.

While in Arvandor, Pilin's wounds always closed immediately after an injury. This time, the blood continued to flow down his back and to the ground.

"That is not a normal knife." Pilin breathed out. The pain had not lessened, but worsened. "One of your mother's special creations. Sharp enough to keep my wounds open longer." Pilin whimpered, "What have you done?"

"What was needed to be done, Pilin'Solor. Your age and power puts you second in the line of succession. I am remedying that error." Vhaeraun twisted his daggers out and pushed his daggers into Pilin's back again. "You should think of it as a favor. Your arrogant actions towards Sehanine Moonbow has made you hated by all but Corellon and your brother."

"Liar. I may be loathed, but not hated. I am no threat to Corellon. I am an Ohthon, I can not be his successor." he breathed out. "Why?"

"I have despised you, Pilin'Solor, more than I ever did my father."

Pilin knew he could not keep his mind on the portal as long as Vhaeraun kept stabbing him.

He jumped through the portal. He stood no chance one handed against Vhaeraun. Perhaps he could fare better with the soul eaters.

He awkwardly slashed at the beasts with his sword as he held his off hand to the portal to keep it closed.

Pilin felt his wounds fester. He realized Vhaeraun's daggers were not only sharp but infused with poison.

Araushnee kept the secret of making of the rare poison to herself. Only through her express permission could it be obtained and used. The poison was potent enough to kill a god.

"No, she would not dare." Pilin huffed.

Muted feminine laughter filtered through the damaged portal alongside Vhaeraun's fading voice.

Pilin did not understand what was said, but he knew he, and the rest of the Seldarine had been betrayed.

He tried to send a mental message to Sehanine, but the pain, and the battle prevented him from creating a link.

Before long, several of the beasts were dead. The living beasts preferred to feed on the soul gorged bodies of their own dead kind rather than bother with Pilin.

Pilin chuckled in spite of himself. "Too tough to chew, you piece of offal?" He whispered.

Pilin shifted forms so that his horn could completely repair the gate.

With the severity of his wounds, shifting forms would kill him, but he refused to let the gate stay tampered with.

He cast the spell with his horn to completely repair the portal.

With the last of his strength he cast a spell to keep evil from tampering with the portal.

Once done, he fell to the surface of the road and his body automatically shifted back to its elven form.

"Sehanine..." He said slowly as he coughed up blood. "I am sorry."

He felt his limbs harden and start turning to stone.

He pushed his sword off the side of the road, where it was whisked away by a gust of wind.

He took his amulet from his neck and tossed it aside. It fell into the mists.

Pilin had no notion of where or when his amulet would land. He knew as long as it was not on his body when he died, his soul would have the chance to reincarnate. It was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

His power would be needed by Corellon. Pilin was not willing to just let his power be trapped in stone or given away to one unworthy.

The protection amulet's true use was Pilin's most guarded secret. Without the amulet, the power could not be passed on intact. The amulet was forged in order to protect the immense power from falling in to the wrong hands.

Without the amulet, the elven power within Pilin would be divided among the Seldarine, save for one power, the secret power of an Ohthon, which was kept safely within the amulet itself upon Pilin's death.

Pilin'Solor glanced at his handiwork at repairing the portal. He smiled. "No one can tamper with that again."

He winced in pain as the stone took his midsection. "Goodbye, my dearest friend."

The smile on his face stayed as his entire body turned to stone. Unlike most gods, his body degraded further to a fine ashen dust. A small spark of light exited the pile of dust and headed in the direction where Pilin had thrown the amulet.

All members of the Seldarine defending their home felt a strange wave of power flow through the trees and into them.

Sehanine heard a voice say, "I am sorry." as she felt a new rush of power flow into her. but she could not think of where it had come, or from whom.

Corellon blinked as he battled the evil that his consort and son had brought to Arvandor. He believed he heard a voice say, "Goodbye, my dearest friend." but he did not recall its owner.

Erevan shivered. He felt a loss, but he did not know who was missing.

Eillistraee felt the rush of power as she readied her arrow.