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 The
Birth of a New OrderThe light from the paladin’s sword burnt the vampire. Smoke rose from its alabaster flesh as his massive claymore parried another strike by the human. Sparks flew in a majestic arc as Ranaldo kicked out and caught Kris in the chest. Supernatural undead strength coursed through Ranaldo as his boot knocked the paladin back. Moving in for the kill, Ranaldo flashed his fangs and brought his sword up to cleave the bloodied knight once and for all. A heavy thud knocked the vampire forward as the dwarf Nefzen charged in, howling a dwarfen battle curse and swinging his hammer down. Ranaldo’s armor was battered and dented. Never before had he encountered such opposition, but never before had he been challenged by paragons of the kingdoms of men. The vampire ducked another swinging assault from the dwarf, and then was caught full in the face by a vicious snap kick from a gith’yanki that had just leapt up onto the table. Rocked back, Ranaldo tried to regain his composure, but the knight he had dropped had picked himself back up. Kris’ face was bruised and blood ran from a broken nose, enticing Ranaldo, but the press of attackers honing in on him was enough to force him to back away. The paladin roared a battle cry as he hefted his massive sword up and Ranaldo countered with another parry, releasing more sparks which arced through the air. Kris cut to the left, and then countered with a slash to the right. Ranaldo was unable to launch a counter-offensive as the dwarf and gith were also sweeping in on him with attacks of their own. Roaring in frustration, Ranaldo lunged at Kris, embracing him in a lethal grasp and biting down into his exposed neck. The blood of the paladin filled the vampire with a new resurgence, and Kris cried out in pain as his injuries overtook him. His sword clattered to the ground as the vampire drained him to unconsciousness. Shan-ti, the gith’yanki monk, cartwheeled off of the table and landed a powerful kick to the side of the vampire, knocking him off of the dazed and bloody knight. Ranaldo rolled with the kick and jumped to his feet, blood dripping off of his chin. He hissed at the monk and dwarf moving in, his teeth red with the paladin’s blood. Kris moaned and rolled to his side, the wound on his neck bleeding profusely all over the old stone floor of the dungeon. He looked up through blurry eyes, seeing the body of Sardis lying slumped over a large table where he fell. Maddie had also been dropped by another of the vampires in the room. All that remained were Nefzen and Shan-ti and the pregnant Idria, who was focusing her concentration on her spirit eagles in an effort to aid her friends. Ranaldo lunged at the monk, driving his sword viciously. The monk side-stepped and open-palm punched the vampire as he rushed past, embedding his sword into the wood of the table. With a squeal of protest, the blade was wrenched free and slashed again at the monk. Nefzen caught Ranaldo in the side of the head with a hard shot with his hammer, leaving a scorch mark on the undead creature’s face where the holy energy of the hammer connected. Enraged, Ranaldo slammed the hilt of his weapon into the dwarf’s face, driving him backward. As Nefzen staggered back, clutching his wounded face, Shan-ti moved in with a flurry of kicks and punches, putting the vampire back on the defensive. Feeling frustration mount, Ranaldo lowered his weapon and coalesced into a red mist. He knew when he was beaten, and he had no desire to die at the hands of mortals so easily. The mist poured through holes in the brick wall and in but a few moments, the vampire had escaped. The coppery smell of blood was thick in the room. Piles of dust and ash lay in mounds where the vampiric followers of Ranaldo had fallen, and the bodies of the fallen heroes lay where they had dropped. Idria moved to Kris, who was sputtering and coughing blood as he lay on the ground, but still alive. His armor had been torn in several places where the vampire had punched holes in it. She looked down at him while attempting to stop the bleeding from the vicious wound, praying that he would be ok. From somewhere deep within the recesses of her mind she heard her armor, a drow artifact known as Spider Silk, whisper in her mind to feed the paladin some of her demonic bath salts mixed in blood, as she had done to Sardis to bring him back from the brink before the Oblivion Wraiths had necrotically poisoned him on the table. Kris, reading her mind, struggled to sit up. “I’m fine I’m fine.” He hurriedly said, keeping her away. “A fallen paladin would make a great addition to your armies.” The armor whispered to Idria. She pushed the item’s whisperings into the back of her head for now. She knew how the knight felt about demonic succor, and while she would have had no problem giving him the infusion of demonic blood as she had Sardis to save him, she was not willing to push past his will and try to force it upon him while he was awake. “That’s why you will fail shard-twin.” A giggly feminine voice said within Idria’s head. She knew it was Dezma, a part of her collective consciousness that had somehow splintered off and formed physically. The two were linked psychically and from time to time, bits and visions would fill Idria’s head that she knew were things that Dezma was seeing. That was when the pain came. The baby was coming… and it had decided to make its way to the world in that dark and dank dungeon. Timing, it seemed, was going to be one of its strong points. Nefzen helped Maddie onto her floating shield, and then helped Shan-ti with Sardis’ body. It had enlarged from the elixir that Idria had given him, and his armor had buckled and warped from it. Nefzen carried Saturnalia in his free hand; the warlord’s hammer was completely silent and cold. Out of the ruins they staggered. All were bloodied. The victory over the vampire and the cursed tower held a lofty toll. With Idria appearing to go into labor, they wouldn’t make it very far into the night of the forest. Shan-ti suggested taking refuge on a nearby hillock which was shaded by a couple of cypress trees which stood tall and upright like two green torches, and a blue-needled fir. The ground of the hill was covered in the needles of the trees and was comfortable to lay on. The hillock itself sat overlooking a vast amount of the area and would provide adequate warning should anything attempt to waylay the injured party. Idria struggled with her labor pains as the body of Sardis was laid under a tree, his massive hammer placed on his chest. The sky overhead had taken a ruddy hue and the moon’s normal pale light was reddened. Next to the moon, deep in the black night sky, a green light that was not normally there shone down. The resulting pallor over the land took on a crimson shade. Battered and bruised, Nefzen helped Kris out of his torn armor. The paladin laid under one of the cypress trees, groaning in pain as he took some water from one of his skins. Nefzen himself was injured badly, the entire left side of his face was a large bruise from where the vampire had smashed him with the pommel of his weapon. “I’ll get ye armor looked after Kris.” Nefzen said softly as he moved over to begin repairing the torn metal. Their foe had certainly done a number on it, Nefzen thought to himself. Luckily he was a master forge smith and the repairs would not be too difficult to manage, though the structure of the armor would need to have hammer and fire taken to it upon returning to a town. Shan-ti prowled the surrounding area of the hill, keeping a sharp eye on the nighttime forest, which seemed to stare back at her with dozens of unseen eyes. The vampire had been defeated but not slain, and no one knew what lurked out in the darkness. Idria’s pain came quicker and quicker. She lay on the ground breathing hard and fast, sweat pouring from her body. Her armor had been taken off and she lay drenched under the blood moon. Soft giggling sounds could be heard from the forest. Dezma was out there somewhere watching. Another hour passed and the night seemed to darken as the child that was within Idria prepared to enter the world. This child, supposedly created through ritual by Dezma, said to be the reincarnation of the Skeleton King, was almost upon them. Nefzen washed his hands with some water and then moved to help Idria through her pain. The deva thrashed back and forth as the child birth overtook her. Shan-ti moved back up the hill and looked at Idria with compassion. “I know I’m supposed to give you ice chips right about now, but I’m all out.” She said jokingly, which Idria appreciated between gasps. “I can see it’s wee head.” Nefzen said, preparing himself for the beauty of birth. The head crowned first, and he saw a tuft of pure white hair. The head began sliding out as Idria screamed in anguish. The flesh of the child was black as midnight. The pointed ears and the lavender eyes which appeared next told the story of what he was. The child was a drow elf. With one last heave, Idria pushed the child out of her womb, and into the arms of the dwarf. The irony of a dwarf holding a drow baby was not lost on any present. It started crying almost immediately, covered in after-birth which the dwarf was trying to clean off as fast as he could. “Maddie give me your dagger.” Shan-ti asked. The battered gnome sat up from her shield, her eye swollen over and her lips ragged and torn and handed the monk the handle of her dagger. Shan-ti moved to the child and cut the umbilical cord with one deft slice. She then handed the dagger back to the warlock, who wiped it on the ground a couple of times to clean off the sticky mess, before falling back to her shield. “A drow…” Nefzen said, handing Idria her child. She should have been surprised at this, but in reality was not. It all made sense. The drow armor had found its way to her for a reason. Upon reaching his mother, the baby stopped crying immediately and just stared up at her face. “I knew you once upon a time…” Idria whispered, beads of sweat dripping off of her face. “You were once my master it is said. You once controlled nations and wielded powerful magics. And now you are here again, as my child. The wheel of life continues turning. But which will you be… are children born evil? Or can you be one for good.” The deva mused this for a moment before movement caught her eye. Down the hill she saw a girlish figure skipping merrily at the outset of the forest. Shan-ti saw her too. Her sharp eyes saw that she looked almost exactly like Idria. And all heard the giggling of the shard-twin. “He will usher forth a new age and all will bow to him.” The giggling Dezma said, before vanishing into the treeline of the forest. Shan-ti kept watch on the treeline, looking for traces of the shard-twin to re-emerge and cause havoc, but there was nothing. After a moment, she relaxed. And that was when she saw the three figures walking towards the hill. They were built strangely, for each appeared tall and sported a pair of feathery wings. The first was dressed in ornate red armor which covered all but his face, which appeared to be carved from stone. His wings were as red as the armor, arching back proudly. He carried a long, red sword in his hand. Walking next to him was another similar in appearance, save that he wore shining silver armor and his wings were white as snow. He carried a slender rod in his hand made of silver and capped with a green gem. The last figure wore black armor and his wings were just as black. He carried a pendant which bore the sign of a spider upon it. All three walked slowly up the hill. Shan-ti called her companions up, for she knew not the intentions of these strangers, and doubted it a coincidence that they would be approaching them in the middle of the night. Kris groaned and stood to his feet, grabbing his sword shakily as he did so. Nefzen put on his helmet and gripped his warhammer. The three stood at the top of the hill as the figures approached. As they neared, they recognized the figures for what they were: angels, though not all angels are good and creatures of such glory and power walking the earth were taken with some caution by anyone who has an inkling of intelligence within them. The middle one spoke first, raising his free hand in salute. The rod he held pointed down at the ground in a non threatening manner. They were upon the party now at the top of the hill, and the three friends could see the details of these wondrous figures. All three had eyes that were deep black; pools of obsidian that spoke of eons of experience. Their faces were non descript, emotionless, and calm. It was as if they were carved from white rock. The middle one’s nose was thin and came to a pointed taper, and as he spoke, his jaw worked slowly, revealing perfect white teeth. “We come bearing gifts for our lord, the child that was born this night who will bring balance to the world.” He said, nodding his head in greetings. A wave of relief poured through all three as they slackened their grip on their weapons. “Yes, we come to give him his birthright.” The angel on the left said, bringing the beautiful red sword up in salute. The metal of the blade caught the reflection of the moon, and the power of the weapon radiated outward. “Let us see the child, that we may know he is here and that his path may be chosen.” The angel on the right said, his voice cold like ice. Shan-ti nodded and moved aside to let the three pass. They did so, gliding over the ground effortlessly and without noise. The baby looked up at the impassive three faces that gazed down upon it. Idria was exhausted and could do nothing as she felt more than uncomfortable at being studied. “It is fitting that a celestial give birth to the balance of this world.” The silver armored angel said. “I am Christial, angel of the north winds and seal-bearer of the thousand plagues. This is Braccus…” Christial pointed to the angel to his left in the red armor. “… angel of the western watch towers and to my right is Luenian, angel of the southern winds and herald of the end times.” “Your titles sound so dire Christial.” Nefzen said. The angel grinned slightly, which was a large contrast to the stoic expression that the three of them were keeping. “Indeed. And we note that the child is a dark elf. Here on this fall equinox night, when the skies darken and the light of day shortens… again I am not surprised by this turn of events.” Luenian spoke in his icy manner. “Will he bring balance or will he be hunted his entire life for his heritage I wonder?” The red armored Braccus asked. “His soul is strong. It has seen many turnings of the wheel. Some for good. Others for ill. Time will tell the tale that he will walk within.” Christial noted. “For now, we have seen his arrival my brothers and it is time for his mother to choose the path.” Idria looked perplexed. “Choose the path? What path?” She asked while her friends looked on. “The path that he will walk. The armor you wear was meant for him. It was no accident that you found it within the underdark. His implement, however, you choose from one of us. Does he walk the path of the soldier and wield the Sword of Conquest, will he once again learn the arts of sorcery and magic and wield the Wand of the Phoenix, or will he pick up the spider-queen’s symbol and become the first male drow priest?” Braccus slowly pointed to each implement as he explained. “I’m a wee bit confused.” Nefzen sputtered. “Why would ye be wanting to HELP the spider-queen? I thought you angels opposed things like spider-queens and demon lords?” “Because mortal, we serve the gods as a whole. Good and evil are relative stances that you take, whereas we are conditioned from creation to serve those beings that are higher. If it is this child’s destiny to bring about the power of Lloth to this world, then I will support it.” Luenian spoke, his mouth barely moving yet his tone perfectly clear. “My brother speaks true. He is one of the guardians of the spider-queen, whereas Braccus serves no one deity and instead can be found on a battlefield to even things out.” Christial explained. “And where do your allegiances lie, angel of the north?” Kris said weakly, eying the three with suspicion. “My place is as herald to the gods of Celestia. The gods Pelor, Kord, and Ioun are whom I serve mostly. Our masters do not define who we are, however. As we said, the child before you will bring balance to this world.” “Yes balance. When one side tips the other rises to restore. Choose the path deva. Choose the path of your son.” Braccus held the sword toward her, an earnest expression on his alabaster face. Idria stared at the three for a moment. She felt Spider Silk’s presence near her, urging her on. The voice of Dezma also rang clear as bells in her mind and she knew her broken twin was observing every last event that was happening. After what seemed an eternity, she reached out and took hold of the silver wand that Christial held. The whispering of Spider Silk dimmed a bit, clearly disappointed that she had not taken the pendant from the black winged and icy Luenian. “You have chosen. The Wand of the Phoenix. This is your child’s birthright, along with the armor that you now wear. Where once he walked the earth a powerful mage, he will once again in this era do the same. Fare well mortals. We may yet meet again.” The three angels nodded their heads and turned and walked down the hillside before slowly being enveloped by the darkness of the forest once more. “Congratulations. Tell us, how does it feel to have given birth to the one that will balance the world?” Nefzen asked, chuckling to himself. “I just stood here under a red moon and had a conversation with angels. I must have had my head hit a little bit too hard in that tower.” Nefzen shook his head and went over to his gear where Kris’ torn armor lay. He sat back down and took out a long stemmed pipe, packing it with some tobacco. “I agree my friend. There are times when I don’t believe half of what we encounter.” Kris said. “I think I just need some sleep.” Idria said. “I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.” She clutched the silver wand in her hand while her child lay atop her, both slowly drifting off to sleep. The moon’s color had paled and it glinted off of the green gem at the tip of the wand. The balance of the world would be set by the drow baby. But first the waves of chaos energy had to be quelled and order restored. The rod of seven parts seemed further away than ever on that night as the daylight began to get shorter and fall moved in… |
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