Chaos Theory

[Sardinal]

Chaos Theory
Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene One: Pellaeon Doth'Dakar


The Large Town of Sulisturn
50 miles north of The Kingdom of Doth'Dakar

Pellaeon Doth'Dakar stood before the humans assembled in Sulisturn's Town Hall. "My friends," he began, "this has been a day I shall long remember. When I first sent my emissaries to you, I had no idea how fast and firm a friendship our peoples would create. Here, on the shores of the great inland sea, the town of Sulisturn has weathered centuries. Raiders of the plains and pirates of the sea have accosted you. Drought and storms have plagued you. Yet through it all, you have persevered. With each hardship you have shouldered, you have proven this land is yours by rights of both heredity and sacrifice. You have much to be proud of." He raised his hands, gesturing around the room. "Here, in this very town hall, you have built your self a way of life and self governance the likes of which I have never before seen." Pellaeon scoffed inwardly at that line, though careful to keep his disdain from his face.

The people of Sulisturn practiced a form of government they called Democracy. In it, each citizen was given the chance to vote, both on whom their leaders would be and directly on many of the major issues that needed handling. Pellaeon found the idea cumbersome and ridiculous. The common folk were to weak minded and poorly educated to make the right decisions. They required a firm hand to guide and protect them.

"And now", he continued, "that very self governance has allowed you to welcome the faith of our Lord, Cyian Doth'Dakar to your city. Today, we have laid the cornerstone of Sulisturn's first temple to Cyian, and with it we have formed the bedrock of a relationship that will strengthen us all for centuries to come." Of course, the people of Sulisturn had little to do with it. Pellaeon had sent a small team of Holy Proselytizers north to begin the conversion process almost six months ago. He was merely here to ceremoniously seal the deal. He didn't bother using his supernaturally augmented powers of persuasion on those gathered before him. There was no need. The art of High Oratory was all it took to sway these folk. All unaware, they swayed and rocked gently with his cadence. Their backs stiffened with head held high when he spoke of strength and persevearence. Warm smiles lit their faces when he spoke of friendship. He could control this whole group with nothing but his skill and voice. His powers would be of more use later, when he had a private meeting with the towns newly elected Mayor. By the time that meeting was over, the man would swear on his mother's soul he had been worshipping Lord Cyian his entire life.

Pellaeon spent the next hour answering the people's questions. They asked a great many, some about the church, others about the closely allied churches of Katdoral, Koric, and Chal-Tsu. He also received a number of questions concerning every day life within the Empire of Lark. Those questions he enjoyed the most. These people didn't yet know it, but they would soon know first hand the answers to those questions. Larks military had long since discarded plans of northern expansion. Too much manpower would be required for insufficient gain. When Pellaeon was done, however, the Empire will have simply absorbed Sulisturn with out a single sword being swung. Garrisoning and improving the towns infrastructure to bring it up to the Empires standards would be a simple thing, then.

He finished his last answer, then raised his hands above his head. "My friends, it is time for me to meet with Mayor Hardishin, but my colleagues will be more than happy to continue answering your questions. It has been an incredible day, the first of many. Let all of Sulisturn rejoice at our new partnership. OMNIS POTENTIA CYIAN! OMNIS POTENTIA LARK IMPERIUS!" As one, the crowd leapt to their feet cheering. Pellaeon stepped down from the dias on which he'd been speaking and slowly made his way to the doors, shaking hands and accepting pats of the back all the way. Mid way there, a young woman stepped forth holding an infant human in her arms.

"Please, Lord Pellaeon," she said, offering him a shy smile, "will you grant my child the blessings of Lord Cyian?" Pellaeon granted her a small smile in return and took the child from her arms. If Innocence had a smell, he noted to himself, it would smell like human babies. He found it nauseating. He bit the tip of his tongue and coated his lips in blood, then kissed the child on the forehead. 'Lord Cyian," he intoned, "look down upon this child and grant him your blessings. Let him know adversity, that he may overcome it. Let him see weakness, that he may abhor it. Let him know authority, that he may respect it. Bless this child and accept him to your side." He handed the child back to his mother, who was now crying with pride.

Just as he let the child go, the screams began. They came from outside, loud terrified screams of people on the streets of Sulisturn. A second later the screams were accompanied by deep bellowing laughter. The humans around him stopped cheering and smiling, looking around with fear and confusion plastered on their faces. Pellaeon strode forward purposefully, shoving those in his way aside. Pushing open the doors to the town hall, the light of the afternoon sun seared into his eyes like needles, briefly blinding him. He blinked away the light born tears, muttering curses concerning humans and daylight under his breath. When his vision finally cleared, he searched for the cause of commotion.

Humans ran the streets in every direction, screaming in terror. To his left, a small group of children cowered against the walls of the Town Hall wailing and crying. In front of the Hall, in the street, stood a beast. It towered over him, almost 15 feet tall. Its thick hide was a burnt red-brown, the color of dried blood. It was humanoid in shape, though monstrously so. Massive bat-like wings flared from its back and flames licked up and down the length of its body. Most terrifying, however, was its face. Leathery and wrinkled, with a mouth far to large to properly fit its head, it had spikes and horns and tufts of coarse black hair adorning it in the oddest of places. Crimson glowing eyes blazed with animosity and that deep, disturbing laughter roared out of its too-large mouth. In one hand, it held a massive flaming sword, which it used to casually behead a fleeing man. In the other it held a flaming whip, currently wrapped around the body of a human woman. It jerked the whip and the woman fell to the ground, screaming as the whips flames began burning through her.

"A Balor!", Pellaeon said aloud, though mostly to himself. "How did this obscenity get here?" He stepped out into the street, then swiftly rolled to the ground, under another massive sword aimed for his neck. He stood and turned to face a second Balor, its enormous eyes locked on him. The Balor belched forth a string of curses and insults at him and began advancing. Pellaeon glowered at the beast in disgust. He grabbed his Holy Symbol and held it high. "IN THE NAME OF LORD CYAIN, I ABJURE THEE FOUL DEMONS. RETURN TO THE DISEASED PLANE FROM WHICH YOU HAIL!" and then he spoke a word. The single word of a Dictum. A word of purest Law and perfect Order. Crimson light burst forth from his holy symbol and exploded outward in all directions. When the light hit the two demons, they were launched backwards, disintegrating to ember and ash as they flew, their essences banished back to the Abyss. Pellaeon noted somewhat absently that a number of humans, caught in the wake of his Dictum, fell over dead as well.

Pellaeon turned as he heard more screams from the north. His junior priests came running out of the Town Hall to join him, then stopped as they too looked north. A Demonic Horde was descending on Sulisturn. Vulture like Vroks, and dangerously beautiful Succubi and Incubi soar in the skies, accompanied by deranged and giggling Quasits. On the ground, slimy Dretches crawled, with larger forms treading over and through them. Pellaeon spotted Hezrous and Glabrezu, Bebelith and Nalfeshnee. Even a couple snake bodied and six-armed Mariliths and at least one more Balor. An entire abyssal menagerie was descending upon him.

"My Lord," one of the junior priests asked, worry plain in his voice, "What do we do?"

Pallaeon spoke a command word and in a flash of darkness his robes and vestments were replaced by jet black full plate, chaste in Crimson. A large shield covered his left arm, its face adorned with the Bastard Sword Of Tyranny, Cyian's Holy Symbol. In his left was an Adamantine heavy mace, glowing vibrantly with axiomatic power. "These people have begun to join the Faith. They will not die till their faith is so strong that Lord Cyian's name will be that last name on their lips. We defend them." He strode forward, casting spells as he went. First came the Righteous Might, doubling his size and greatly increasing his strength and stamina. Next followed Divine Power to bolster his combat skills and Shield of Law to protect him from the Chaos of the demons and lash at them with Order if they struck him. Finally, just before the wave of Demons reached the edge of the wall-less city where he stood, he cast a group sending. Each member of the College of Pontiffs, the Highest Priests of the Faiths of the Empire, would receive that sending. They would learn his location, and that he was in grave danger.

"Please, Great Lord of Tyranny and Domination," he prayed softly, "let them come in time."

END OF SCENE ONE

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Two: Zaithan Del'Thiir

Lotus, Capital of the Western Eros
Empire of Lark


Zaithan paced the length and bredth of his office. He was agitated, irate even, though he knew not why. Perhaps, like many gifted psionics, he was merely absorbing some of the stress or frustration of those around him. It could also be that he hadn't seen his wife, Kari, in almost a month. She'd cloistered herself away in Stillmist ever since the return of the old Shassa-Telan drow from their long exile on Katrel. Whatever the cause, the near constant banging and pounding of the duergar working on his redesigned Court Hall certainly wasn't helping.

He strode over to the crystal paned double doors leading to his balcony, catching his own reflection in them as he did. As they often did when he allowed his thoughts to wander for long periods of time, the soft layers of his shozoko had begun blending in with his surrounding. In the reflection, he looked like nothing more than a floating head with short golden blond hair and almond shaped eyes like liquid amber. A brief moment of concentration returned his clothing to its customary black trimmed in crimson. He threw open the doors and stepped out onto his balcony. From here, he could see the splendor of Lotus, Shining Jewel of the Empire of Lark, capital of the Western Eros. His capital.

Spread out below and around him were the massive structures of the Imperial Complex. Only the Complex of Lark itself, capital of the Empire, was larger. Hundreds of people scurried below him like ants. Past the walls of the Complex, he could see the great black bulwark of the Cathedral of Cyian Imperator Divinus, the towers of the Arcanus Antheneaum, all the way to the low beginnings of the Great Barrier of Lotus. Once finished, those black walls, flecked in gold, would be the finest defensive barrier this side of the Great Divide. Possibly in the whole of Severall.

Behind him, Zaithan heard the door leading to his Seneschal's office open, and the footsteps of the man himself striding towards the balcony. He turned, expectantly.

"Pardon, my lord, but another shipment from Farshore has arrived, once again several days early." Zaithan's Seneschal was Felryn Doth'Dakar, a distant cousin of the Emperor himself. Felryn was short, even for a drow, with long pale white hair he kept neatly braided and a stern countanence that seemed to disapprove of everything he laid eyes on. He was Zaithan's third Seneschal in as many years.

"What is it this time?" Zaithan grumbled in reply.

"More animals, my lord, for the Doth'Dakar Gladitorium in Lark. Three Triceratops, seven velociraptors, and two Tyrannosaurus Rex's." Felryn replied. "They weren't scheduled for arrival for five days and the transport from Lark wont be here until then."

Zaithan swore. This was the third time this kind of scheduling mix up with the Gladitoriums shipments had occurred, all in the last two months. Finding a place to safely store massive and potentially destructive creatures in Lotus was not easy. "Take them to the Del'Thiir Arena an find housing for the beasts there. Then contact Administrator Harvish Doth'Dakar in Lark and inform him that he has exactly one month to get these scheduling mix ups corrected or I'll feed him to the next T-Rex shipped here.", he growled.

"My Lord," Felryn admonished, "one does not ever speak to a member of House Doth'Dakar in such a man..." The drows statement was cut off by Zaithan's backhand knocking him to the floor.

"I am Zaithan Del'thiir, Consul of the Emprie, Lord of the Western Eros, and I promise you, you sniveling little worm, that I will speak to anyone in the Empire, save the Emperor himself, any way I please." Zaithan reached down and picked Felryn off the ground by his robes. He held Felryn up above his head with one hand, "You will tell Administrator Harvish exactly what I said, and if you ever suggest to me again than any man may hide from me behind nothing but a name, you will follow him down the dinosaurs gullet." With that, Zaithan launched his Seneschal back through the balcony doors and watched with satisfaction as Felryn slid across the polished floor. Felryn hastily stood and ran out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Yes, Zaithan thought to himself, I am a bit irritable today.

Another man's thoughts intruded suddenly upon Zaithan's, the result of a Sending spell. "Lord Zaithan, Castle Arcanthus is under attack from a large force of monstrous creatures, origin unknown. Immediate aid requested. Lord Jacarin Melanthis."

Zaithan swore again. "Lord Jacarin, the requested aid will arrive shortly." he replied curtly. "FELRYN!," he then shouted, 'Get in here!"

Felryn entered the room, fear and hatred mixing in equal parts in his eyes. Zaithan ignored it. "Castle Arcanthus is under attack." Felryns eyes widened. "Contact Lord Doth'Noir, tell him I want a team of Rift Jumpers teleported there as soon as possible. Send word to all the churches to prepare to send clerics and body retrieval teams when they can. I'm heading there now, I'll send further instructions after I evaluate the situation."

"Yes, my Lord," Felryn scrambled out of the room. Zaithan concentrated, then folded space with a Psionic Teleport.

Zaithan appeared on the southern battlements of Castle Arcanthus. The archers and siege engineers looked startled for a second at his sudden appearance, then a slow cheer rose among them, building to a roar. The Lord of the Western Eros had come.

"Slaadi", Zaithan spat, staring out over the wall. Several hundred Slaad, monstrosities from the Plane of Limbo, were massed for an an assault on the keep. They resembled bipedal frogs with huge heads, though each one had several bizarre attributes that made it unique. He saw hundreds of Red and Blue Slaad, sprinkled among them the far more dangerous, Greens, Greys, and Death Slaadi. Many of the latter three types had taken to the air on the wings of Fly spells. Those would have to be dealt with swiftly, he thought. Walls meant nothing to those who could fly over them. "How in the Nine Hells did this many Slaadi get to the Prime Material?" he muttered to himself. More importantly, he then thought, how did such chaotic creatures ever manage to band together in single purpose?

Zaithan stepped up onto the battlements. First, the fliers. He closed his eyes and began what was one of his most powerful Psionic powers. It had taken him months of research and hundreds of thousands in gold to graft this unique ability. Slowly, as he began the manifestation, amber light began to radiate from his body. He pulled on the latent psionic energy of all the minds in the keep, building the power until there was so much energy channeling through him he was lifted off the wall and held in the air by it. Torrents of power were pulled into him until he glowed like a dark amber sun over the keep. Finally, he released it all at once. The amber light blasted outward in a ray as thick as his torso, dividing itself once, twice, then more and more until it had flared out into thin golden lines of power. Each line homed in on a flying slaad, lancing into its forehead. The Slaadi tried to resist the power being forced into them. A couple succeeded, escaping with pounding headaches and blood leaking from their ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. Most however, couldn't stand up to the power of this manifestation. Their heads exploded like ripe melons dropped from a wall. Slaadi bodies rained from the sky, accompanies by a shower of blood and brains.

Zaithan fell back to the wall, panting with the exertion of channeling that much power. A rousing cheer went up among the keeps defenders. Zaithan began scanning the ranks of the Slaadi still on the ground. He concentrated briefly, enhancing his vision. There, a splash of orange among the blue, red, green, and grey. He enhanced his vision further. Standing near the rear of the Slaad army was a large creature. Like the rest of the Slaad gathered, it was largely frog-like in appearance. It's wart covered hide was a mottled yellow-orange. It's rounded body was topped by two heads, flames dancing in its four eyes. It held a flaming polearm in it's hands.

"It cant be...", Zaithan whispered. But it was. Bazam-Gorag. Zaithan and his family had slain the beast known as Bazam-Gorag, a powerful Slaad Lord, centuries ago. At least he thought they had. Not only was it back, but from the looks of it, the creature had grown more powerful in the intervening years. The beast was leading an army of its lesser brethren against him. As he watched, flames erupted from the Slaad Lords hands, lashing his forces to attack.

"I'm going to need some help," He thought to himself. Now he was really irritated.

END OF SCENE TWO

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Three: Kari Shassa-Telan

Palace of the Queen Undying
City of Stillmist
The Undead Kingdom
Empire of Lark

Kari laughed, a rich, full-throated laughter that no doubt would have brought tears to her eyes if her body had still functioned as a living creatures did. "Alhuran," she said, turning her head to look at the drow seated behind her, "If High Seat Brenathian Shassa-Telan heard you say that, I'd likely have to kill him defending you." She continued laughing and turned back, pulling several silver-chaste crystal goblets off a shelf. She dropped some cubed ice into each and then filled them with Resiota, a spiced liquor distilled from the berries of Garrote Ivy. She turned to offer each of her three guests a glass.

Alhuran Shassa-Telan, leader of the drow of Kari's family that had been hidden in exile on another world for 500 years, took his glass and held it under his nose, inhaling its spicy aroma with obvious pleasure. "Great Lord of Bones," he said softly, "It has been too long since I last had Resiota." He sipped at the liquor, savoring the blending of sweet and spice. "Also, I knew Brenathian when he was but a mewlling ass, hiding behind his brothers strength. I doubt I would need defending from that one, my Lady, and may Chal-Tsu himself protect us if the family has fallen far enough that that fool is now High Seat." He sat back in the deep, thickly cushioned and richly carved dinosaur bone chair and closed his eyes, once more simply savoring the taste and the memories of his long lost home it brought. Kari eyed the dark Da'Chora wood full plate he always wore, her mind lusting for the chance to study the rare woods properties. She once again stifled the urge to ask him. None but the Telvuran Da'Chorni were permitted to study and work with the wood of the Holy Da'Chora trees of the Heartwood and even then only from those trees that died in battle or of natural causes. There was enough tension between her Church and the more orthodox members of the drow nation, she saw little reason to further fuel that fire.

Kari stepped over to hand her other two guests their drinks. Lortin Shassa-Telan was only a handful of years younger than Kari, and a powerful necromancer. He took his glass, eyeing Kari appreciably over it's rim as his sipped it. Kari sighed inwardly. She had thrown a great ball and feast for her returned family that night and was still dressed for the occasion. Her soft white hair was pulled up and then elaborately curled to spill down the left side of her head and over her shoulder. She wore a pale lavender silk dress that clung to her form and set off her flawless charcoal skin. "I took notice that your husband, Zaithan, was not in attendance tonight, my Queen.", he said, his eyes roving from her face to parts....lower. "How is he?"

"Jealous and wrathful," Kari replied archly, raising an eyebrow at him, "and to any not of his station he is "Lord Zaithan", Lortin." Lortin's eyes snapped back up to hers, and the pale grey of his lips flushed red, the drow equivalent of a blush.

"Yes, my Queen. I apologize for my forwardness. I have had much to drink this evening and am unused to such rich wines and liquors. We did not have much in the way of alcohol on Katrel."

Kari offered him a sympathetic smile. "Your long exile is over, Lortin. The power and pleasures of Severall are once more yours. Well, " She added swiftly, "most of them anyway." He laughed and bowed his head to her.

Kari turned to Purvani Shassa-Telan, her third guest, and offered her the last glass. Purvani had never known life on Severall. Of the three, she was the only one born during the families years of hiding on Katrel. She took her glass and sniffed at it cautiously, then took a small sip. A slow smile spread across her young face. "How can something I have never tasted remind me of a home I have never known?" She asked. Even when merely speaking conversationally, her voice was musical. In some ways, Purvani was the one Kari was most interested in. Long ago, when she had returned from being trapped on Carceri the Prison Plane, she had discovered that her family, those of House Shassa-Telan who worshipped Chal-Tsu, had been mercilessly slaughtered in a civil war between the drow houses. The rare and fascinating bardic art known as Quelvishnara, or Dirgesinging, had been exclusively practiced among them. She had thought the art lost, yet here Purvani sat, a fully trained Dirge Singer at her command. Kari was thrilled at the chance to spread that art throughout the Undead Kingdom.

"It is a thing of the Heartwood, daughter.", Alhuran replied, opening his eyes. "It is the Holy Land that the Dark Father Katdoral made just for our people. It and those things of it call to us. They speak to us. They remind us that our home is danger, our birthright is the power to conquer that danger. You will find that many things of the homeland will stir your blood."

Kari sat down on her dragon bone divan and sipped from her own glass. Her undead form did not require sustenance, and was immune to the effects of alcohol, but she still enjoyed the taste from time to time. As the conversation continued, a small skeletal cat entered the room. It's tiny bone feet clacked lightly on the floor as it peered around, small green lights floating in its eye sockets. It sauntered over to where Purvani was sitting and began brushing itself against her legs, walking in figure eights between them. Purvani laughed in delight. "It's so life-like, my Queen." she exclaimed, "who is controlling it?"

"No one, my dear.", Kari replied with a light laugh of her own. "You are all aware of the spell created by our Lord Chal-Tsu known as Awaken Undead?" All three nodded, watching the cat. "I have created a somewhat lesser version of the spell, called Awaken Instinctual Intelligence. Though it only works on undead created from animals, it returns their natural intelligence and instinctual behaviors."

Purvani's crooned a beautiful, wordless tune to the cat, which then jumped into her lap and curled itself up. The young drow woman stroked the cats skeletal head as she sang to it.

"Fascinating, my Queen.", said Lortin, staring at the creature. "To what practical purposes is the spell applied?".

"I originally designed the spell for extensive use in Tellavale." Kari replied. "The most western principality of the Undead Kingdom is largely used as farm land. We supply nearly 40% of the empires military foodstuffs from Tellavale. The spell allows us access to tireless horses and oxen that can be trained rather than controlled, inexhaustible dogs for guarding and herding of cattle and sheep. Miss Ivory, there," she said pointing to the cat, "was my first subject. But even the cats have proven useful, as storing and transporting that much food attracts vermin of all kinds, and her and her feline cousins make excellent exterminators."

Suddenly, music filled Kari's mind. She recognized it immediately as Brulnari du'es Shadra Jularth, March of the Darkly Victorious, an ancient dirge telling of a great victory of the drow armies of Katdoral's Will during the Rotting Wars. It was Pellaeon Doth'Dakar's favorite song. Pellaeon was in danger. She closed her eyes and allowed the rest of the group Sending he must of cast take form. A map unrolled itself in her mind. A glowing Sword of Tyranny hung suspended over a small town north of the Kingdom of Doth'Dakar called Sulisturn. He was there and he needed immediate aid.

Kari stood. "I'm sorry, my friends, but something has come to my attention. I must leave for a while, but please, avail yourself of anything you wish within these walls and think upon what rolls you might like to play within our Lord Chal-Tsu's kingdom of Undeath. I will return when I can." She strode from the room, the three drow giving her their thanks on the way out, and swiftly headed towards her private apartments.

She walked through her libraries and past her laboratory, into her private chambers. "Attend me and ready me for combat." She said, sternly. Four skeletons stepped from the walls. Two came to her side and began undressing her as she stood, arms out straight. The other two stepped towards a large wardrobe and began removing items from it. After the dress was removed, all four began redressing her, draping her with her robes and fitting her with the many items of magical gear she had come to possess over the years. As they worked, she began running through the spells in her mind, both Divine and Arcane. The small and distant knot of feeling and warmth that was her permanent mental connection to her husband suddenly blossomed to life in her mind, bringing her his thoughts.

"My love," Zaithan's said.

"Husband," she replied, cutting him off. "Pellaeon has sent out a distress call to the College of Pontiffs. I am preparing to go to his aid. Can you join me?"

"I'm sorry, dearest," He said, "but I need you to let the rest of the College handle whatever Pellaeon has gotten himself into. Castle Arcanthus is under siege from an army of Slaadi. I am going to need some help. Kari....Bazam-Gorag is leading the army."

Kari's eyes widened in shock. "How....?" she began, then stopped herself. "No matter, someone has brought the beast back. I guess I'll have to find a more.....permanent...way to put him down this time." She waved away her dressing skeletons as they finished attiring her for battle. A slow smile spread across her stunning face. "I know just the thing, my love.........."

END OF SCENE THREE

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Four: Velvi'dar and Vyrr'vic Doth'Dakar

The Great Kalis Wood
65 miles south of the southern border of the Eastern Expanse

"Elves," Vyrr'vic spat the word as if it had left a foul taste in his mouth, "I'm really starting to fucking hate elves." He slid to the side, avoiding the downward sweep of the long sword the elf in front of him was wielding. He felt a pulse of amusement through the battle-bond he shared with his cousin, Velvi'dar. Vyrr couldn't help but chuckle as well. Sometimes, in the heat of combat, the battle-bond blurred the line that separated the cousins emotions. Vyrr feinted to the left, and when the elf took the bait and stabbed forward, he slapped his short swords against the elf's blade, trapping it between them. His left foot snapped up and shattered the elf's wrist. The long sword fell to the ground and the elf centered his shield, preparing to defend himself. Vyrr turned his head slightly, catching sight of an elf charging Vel with a spear. In less than a single heart beat, a scenario played out in Vyrr's mind, sent along the bond by Vel.

Vyrr ignored the elf in front of him, and leapt backwards, flattening himself in the air. He slid above the leveled spear and planted both feet into the charging elf's chest, sending him tumbling backwards. Vel, at the same time, curled into a ball and rolled backwards, his twin short swords thrusting up under the elf's shield, one into his groin, the other into his stomach. The spear clanged harmlessly off the first elf's shield. Vyrr landed and Vel rose, both spinning to be back to back again.

They were still on their original mission of conquering land south of the Empire in order to connect it with the drow homeland. A large force from the Drow Nation was working its way north to meet them. After their near disastrous encounter with the elves of Crossriver during their first campaign, the boys had moved far to the east. The main body of their army was camped just inside the borders of the Eastern Expanse to the north. They and a large number of scouts and rangers were looking for the most promising route through the Great Kalis Wood. Here, well more than a thousand miles from Crossriver, they had once again encounter elves.

Vyrr'vic slid to one knee and slapped a hand against the ground, casting a Tremor spell. A cone of earth in front of him rumbled and shook, knocking three more elves to the ground. He then slid around his cousin and launched the twin beams of a Scorching Ray into the face of an elven archer standing 30 feet away. The elf screamed as his face began to melt. Vel, for his part, pivoted and cast an Entangle, trapping the three elves on the ground in a prone position and followed it with Summon Swarm. A mass of insects appeared and began biting and stinging the trapped elves.

A pair of lions, rust colored with black manes, charged out of the woods. The first pounced upon the elf Vyrr had drop-kicked as he started to stand. The second joined the inscets, making quick work of the three entangled elves. The lions were the result of a pair of Figurines of Wonderous Power: Celestial Lions the boys had had since they were children. After so much time at the boys side, they had slowly been corrupted, no longer the golden creatures of goodness they had been created as.

Vyrr'vic heard the twang of a bow string and spun. An arrow flew through a tree, as if the tree were made of air, and streaked towards Velvi'dar. The Imperial Prince launched himself sideways to dodge and the arrow swerved to follow him, slamming into his left shoulder. Vyrr felt the pain and shock reverberate through the battle-bond. Just as Vel was reaching for the arrow, a loud whistle erupted from it and it detonated into a massive fireball. Vyrr felt himself launched back through the air, flames searing into him. When the flames and smoke cleared, Vyrr raised his head from where he lay on the ground. Vyrr was also struggling to rise, his cloak still on fire. They were nearly fourty feet apart, on opposite side of the clearing. The lions had reverted to their figurine state, the fireball having done to much damage to them.

A brilliant flash of golden light filled the clearing. Vyrr'vic and Velvi'dar ignored it. Enduring bright light was one of the first things they had trained for under the ungentle tutelage of St Vrin of the Knife. Both rose to their feet, with some struggle, patting out the flames still clinging to them. Between the two of them, in the center of the clearing, stood three more elves. The first, facing Vyrr'vic, wore dark green leathers with a light brown cloak. He held a longbow, arrow knocked and pointed at Vyrr, in his hands. The tip of the arrow glowed with a vibrant blue light. On the breast of his cloak was an emblem, a golden bow sprouting a pair of silver dragon wings. The Order of Elyria, Vyrr groaned to himself, an Arcane Archer.

Facing Velvi'dar was an elf draped in fine Elven Chain Mail, from coif to boots. He held an elven Thinblade in one hand, the other twitching through the beginnings of a spell. Elven BladeSinger, Vyrr felt Velvi'dar pass through the bond. Between the two, the third elf was a woman in gleaming full plate. Brilliant daylight streamed from her heavy mace and the holy symbol of Thelin, Lord of Light, shone on her breastplate.

The Arcane Archer grinned at Vyrr. "Your days of trying to expand the Empire's borders are over, God'Son.", he said.

"Yes, we're well aware of your talents. The two of you wont be getting within ten feet of each other.", added the Blade Singer. "Surrender now, and things might go easier for you."

Velvi'dar spat blood. "If you knew us half as well as you think you do, you'd know surrender is not ever going to happen.", he said slowly. He held a short sword in his right hand, but his left hung limp at his side. His left shoulder was a rent and burnt mess, with flashes of white bone peaking through the shredded muscle and skin. Vyrr could feel the agony pulsing through the bond, but from this distance their wasn't anything he could do to help.

"So be it.", the elven woman said. "Take them."

Vyrr launched himself into action, weaving and dodging, feinting and side-stepping. He tried every trick he could think of, trying to work his way over to Vel's side. The archer put an arrow in his path every time. The bastard was toying with him, Vyrr thought to himself. He took a few cuts from arrows that brushed him, but it seemed the Archer was intent on only stopping Vyrr from reaching his cousin. Vyrr launched a volley of Magic Missiles at the Arcane Archer, they splashed harmlessly of a Shield spell. He sent a Fireball winging towards them. The cleric bitch countered it. He heard the clash of Vel and the Blade Singers swords, caught flashes of their fight, but couldn't get near them. He couldn't tell if the frustration and rage building in him were his own or Velvi'dars.

Finally, he spun around and threw one of his blades at the archer. It hit the elf in the leg, sinking in a few inches. The Arcane Archer grunted in pain, but the cleric was already there, a healing spell forming on her lips. Vyrr charged them, then fell to his knees as a pain like he had never known tore into his gut. He looked across the clearing just as the Blade Singer was pulling the length of his thinblade out of Vel's stomach. Velvi'dar's sword dropped to the ground. He looked down at his torso in shock. He balled his fist and punched the Blade Singer in the throat. The elf stumbled backwards, trying to regain the ability to breath. Vel fell to his knees as well, blood dribbling from his mouth and oozing from the hole in his stomach.

"VELVI"DAR!", Vyrr'vic screamed. Pain was lashing back and forth between them through the bond. Vel looked up and gave his cousin a weak, drowsy looking grin. His reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small ivory statue. With a heavy grunt, he hurled the statue to his cousin, the force of the throw carrying him down, face first, into the ground.

Vyrr'vic bounced to his feat, ripping his own statue out of its pouch and tossing it up as well. With all his strength he swung his remaining short sword, cleaving both statues in two in the air, just as two arrows slammed into him. The first took him in the left thigh, the second burst into his chest. Vyrr collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. His vision began to darken around the edges. From where he was laying, he could see Vel, still face down in the grass, dark blood beginning to pool around him.

"Father....", he prayed weakly, "I'll see you soon........

End of Scene Four

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Five: Shazer'sal and Valruuk Unizar

The Cathedral of Nine Flames
Lark
Empire of Lark

Shazer'sal slid through the halls of the cathedral, silent as death itself and all but invisible to those around him. His stealth wasn't really necessary, but he fell into its soft-footed, shadow-seeking movements almost unconsciously. Some who knew him said stealth was second nature to him, but his brother would always laugh and say that it wasn't second at all. It was simply his nature. Shazer'sal tended to agree.

He ran a gloved hand along the orange and red mottled marble walls, veined in yellow and gold. Once, long ago when this building had been a temple to Thelin, this stone had been white. The building had languished, abandoned after Thelin's faith was outlawed in the Empire, until the Unizar brothers had taken it for their own. A small mountain of money had been spent redesigning it. Now the stone resembled solidified flames. The temple had been rededicated to the Nine Lords of Baator, the plane the ignorant masses of the world called The Nine Hells. Most of those fools would never know what the word "Hell" truly meant, Sal thought with a dark smile. Then again, if he and his brother had their way, maybe they would.

Sal passed a couple of priests bickering in the hall. Arguments and infighting were to be expected in a temple that worshipped nine different beings who all held ambition, lust, and avarice as virtues. He paused at a pair of double doors, waiting for the priests to catch up and open them, then slid through behind them. A couple corridors later, he found himself in the large foyer that led into his brothers office. The massive bronze doors to Valruuk's chambers stood closed, each bearing four iron disks depicting the sigils of the first eight Lords of Hell. A silver seal dominated the center of the doors, showing the Ruby Scepter of Asmodeus, the ninth Lord, Overlord of Baator and Sal and Val's patron. He could have announced himself, but that would mean interrupting whatever his brother was doing. Instead he slid into a corner and waited.

To the left of the doors, Layessa Harsgrove, one of Val's four secretaries sat at her desk, reading and sorting through a pile of scrolls and parchments. Of his brothers immediate staff, he liked her the most. She was a cold, heartless woman, ruthless in her efficiency and without a shred of conscience. She was getting on in years now, as humans counted them, her hair greying and fine lines webbing the edges of her eyes and mouth. She had been a great beauty in her youth, and Sal had sired two half-fiend children with her. There was no love, no emotion at all in their coupling. It had been an honor for her, a momentary pleasure for him. Still, he found himself wondering if she could survive a third.

To the right of the doors sat another desk. This one also covered in neat piles of parchment and scrolls. Vincent Unizar, Val's own teifling grandchild, sat at that one. He was Valruuk's current Seneschal. He orchestrated the work of the other three secretaries, and kept the works of each of Val's three roles within the empire moving smoothly. Valruuk, who generally thought that even a few moments of free time was tantamount to laziness, was not only Vicar of the Hells, the highest priest of Baator in Severall, but also the Empire's Attorney General and president of Unizar Services Conglomerate. Not that Shazer'sal was any less busy. On top of serving as Asmodeus's Hand of Baator, he also organized and led most of the criminal organizations within the Empire, except for those few under the sway of the Church of Zivix. Sal smiled again, it was a good thing the two of them left the need for sleep behind with their mortality, he thought to himself.

Across from the doors, a man sat, legs bouncing nervously and looking very out of place. His clothing was shabby and worn, though mostly clean. He had several days of dark beard growth and his eyes darted around the room, landing on anything that looked like it might be valuable. Sal vaguely recalled meeting the man before. Frindino, he thought, was the man's name. He led a small street gang, the sort that dealt some of Sal's more...intoxicating commodities. Val had been keeping an eye on business in Lark Primus while Sal was out of the country. The little man reeked of corruption now. Sal could smell it churning through the man's soul.

The doors to Valruuk's office swung open and the man himself stepped out escorting a middle aged woman Sal recognized as Lady Meiram Horbleth, of Questrian House Horbleth.

"Of course, my Lady, of course.", Val was saying, one hand on her lower back, gently herding her out of his office. "Discretion is always of tantamount importance. Layessa, will you please walk the Lady Horbleth down to the Hall of Secrets and help her leave the temple unnoticed?"

Layessa stood, "Of course, Your Eminence. Please, my Lady, this way." The two women walked out of the room.

"Ah, master Frindino, so good of you come, please step inside." Val stood aside and let the nervous little man into his office, Sal slid in behind him.

Valruuk's office was opulent. Designed to impress and awe, it did both easily. Thick red carpeting covered most of the floor, except just in front of Val's desk where it gave way to grey stone and a large silver grillwork depicting Asmodeus's Ruby Rod. Gold filigree scrollwork covered the rooms six red marble pillars, depicting golden flames crawling up them. At the far end, Val's black basalt desk was sculpted to resemble a dozen people, bent and contorted around and through each other in agony, it's massive throne like chair molded to match.

Val walked to a gold chaste darkwood hutch and poured himself and his guest a glass of brandy. He turned, offering Frindino the glass. The nervous little man scurried over to take it, and bobbed a clumsy bow as he did. "Thanks, yer wershipfulness.", his voice cracking slightly. "Yer always so gud to me, milord.", he continued, staring around the room. "Not much like them other noble folk, you and yer brother, iffin ya don't mind me sayin it, milord."

Valruuk laughed. "Not at all Frindino. My brother and I tend to see the value in people from all walks of life. It is what one does that is important, not what station one is born to. But tell me, what of the girl. Is the situation handled? Tell me everything." Sal grinned, suddenly knowing exactly why Frindino was here. He began studying the man intently. He could hear the blood pumping through his veins. He tracked every twitch of the man's hands, every bead of sweat that rolled down his forehead. He could smell the man's fear and his hunger for wealth and power. A flea bounded from Frindino's coat to his neck, Sal saw it as if in slow motion.

Findino bobbed his head again. "Fer sure, milord, it is. Just like you asked me. By Cyian's great bullocks, milord, I'd sure love to know what that young girl did to earn it, though. My guys and I found her last night. Once we had our ways with her, some more than once iffen yer catchin my meaning, I slit her throat and left her where her da would find her. What was her crime, iffen ya don't mind my askin, yer wershipfulness?"

Valruuk smiled. "Nothing.", he said, sipping his brandy and watching Frindino over the glass. "I really just wanted to see if you had sunk so low that you would torture and kill an innocent girl just because I asked you too. A test you passed with flying colors."

"Milord," The sweating man began, "I don't underst..." The rest was cut off as Sal's mindblade slid into the back of his neck, severing his spine from the base of his skull. Frindino dropped to the floor instantly, dead before he landed. Sal deftly caught the falling glass before it hit the floor, taking a sip from it as the mindblade faded away from his other hand.

"Brother.", Sal nodded to Val, "another soul for the pit courtesy of Unizar, Unizar, and Baator." He flashed a grin to his brother.

"Sal!", Valruuk said, stepping over the body as if it wasn't there and embracing his brother. "Welcome home! How was your tour of the Confederacy?"

"Interesting. I'd like to go over it with you and Kas. There are some items of particular note happening in Hilltop and Hearthhome we should discuss at length."

"Of course, I'll have Vincent check the Emperor's schedule. I'm sure he'll have time for us at some point today. Or is it important enough to interrupt him?" Val replied, refilling his and his brother's glasses.

"No, I don't think so. Not yet, anyway.", Sal sat on the edge of Val's desk. "We'll see what it builds into, though."

'Now I am curious. Have you had lunch? We could....." Val stopped in mid sentence as music filled his mind. It was the song Pellaeon had chosen as his distress call. He stopped the spell from going any further. He had spoken to Pellaeon yesterday and knew exactly where he was.

Sal set his glass down. "What is it, Brother?"

"Pellaeon has sent a distress call. He's in danger." Val sighed. "Doth'Dakar's", he said with mild exasperation, "always seem to be getting in over their heads. It's statistically impossible for all of them to live up to Cyian and Kas's examples."

Sal chuckled, "Doth'Dakar and Unizar have walked the path to power side by side for too long to turn back now, Brother."

"I would never want to, Brother. Lets go see Kas now, and tell him about Pellaeon. It's almost midnight, I'm sure he's been irritated enough by flunkies and functionaries by now to want to blow something up."

Sal laughed.  Pellaeon's danger aside, it was good to be home.


END OF SCENE FIVE

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Six: Kasryn Doth'Dakar

Imperial Palace
Lark
Empire of Lark

Kasryn Doth'Dakar, Chosen of Cyian, Emperor of Lark, High Seat of House Doth'Dakar, stifled a yawn. It wouldn't do for the body guards he didn't need, yet who still hounded his every move, to see him tired. It had taken him several months to get the Imperial Complex of Lark moving on a proper nocturnal schedule, yet still he found himself waking long hours before sundown. He filled the extra time with magical research, he was never one to let a minute drift by fruitlessly.

He opened the rear door to his personal office and stepped in. The guards took up position outside. He paused, looking around the room. Aside form his arcane laboratories, this had become his favorite room in the palace. He had filled it with that which he loved more than anything but his family. Objects that reflected his power. Gifts, most of them were. Gifts from the noble families of the Empire when he had ascended the throne, gifts from drow Houses that he had granted land and title, and of course, gifts he had given to himself after ripping them from the dead hands of his enemies.

In the corner, resting head down on a marble pedestal, was an adamantine hammer, covered in runes, that legends say was used to chisel the stones of the massive and ancient Chapel of Dark Skies, the oldest temple of Katdoral in Lark. House Trysthean had given it to him on his coronation day. They were an old and well respected family of the Empire. After Kazryn and the Unizar twins had.....nationalized with extreme prejudice...the Bank of Lark, he had absorbed all of the banks debtors. When House Trysthean couldn't repay, he foreclosed on all their holdings, casting the family into poverty and beheading the High Seat. Kasryn had then bequeathed those holdings to House Ulantha-Veluth, a drow House Minor from the homeland. They had given him an ancient marble bust of St Vrin of the Knife, made when he was still living. It sat in the opposite corner.

Along the left wall of the room was a magical tapestry, a gift from House Aeradyll when he had given that drow house the lands and holdings of the Franarist Family. It was a gorgeous piece, depicting a serene glade deep in the drow forest. Legends say the glade was the very spot where Katdoral's Will made their first sacrifice to their dark God, a unicorn according to the story. No one knew if it truly was the same glade. The enchantments laid into it allowed him to view the glade directly from his office, the tapestry becoming something of a window to the place. When he deactivated the magic again, the tapestry was always different, reflecting whatever was going on in the glade when the magic ended.

It was his desk, however, that he enjoyed the most. Not just an old relic dug out of a noble families vaults, it had been crafted specifically for him. It was a gift from his uncle, Chandraek Iraedoluthan, High Seat of House Iraedoluthan. Crafted of darkwood and chaste with mithral inlay, the surface of the desk had two plaques, one in each upper corner. On the left was a silver plaque with the double "D" of house Doth'Dakar in blood red garnets. On the right, the heraldry of the Empre, black iron with the white lark in flight done in pearl. But the face of the desk was the best part. It had been masterfully carved and lacquered into a tryptich, a series of three scenes that told a story. The first, on the left, depicted two drow and a large dog walking north along the shores of the Great Divide as he and his brother, Holy Cyian had done when they were young. The middle showed those same drow and the dog standing on a cliff, looking down at a large city, an army at their back. The flag of Lark flew over the city. It depicted his and Cyian's victory at ArgentFalls. Though Lord Jacob Melanthis had led that army, it was the Doth'Dakars that formulated the plan that would force ArgentFalls to capitulate without a single battle. The third picture showed Kasryn sitting on a massive stone throne with his brother ascending to the heavens behind and above him, signifying Kasryn's ascension to the throne and Cyian's ascension to Godhood.

Kasryn strode over to the desk and was about to sit when the door to his Imperial Seneschal's office opened and she walked...well, more like waddled in. His House Seneschal was currently in the Kingdom of Doth'Dakar, coordinating with King Sareth. Kasryn walked over to her and rested a palm on her pregnant belly, feeling the baby kick almost immediately.

"How are you feeling, Asandrelle?", he asked. "The future High Seat of House Doth'Doluthan isn't making you too uncomfortable?"

Asandrelle laughed, "No, your Majesty. I'm fine, thank you." Asandrelle Doth'Doluthan was the granddaughter of Evanuelle Doth'Doluthan, formerly House Argentdoluthan. When he and his brother had first formed house Doth'Dakar, Evanuelle had taken her House Minor and joined them as their first allied House. She had also served as their first House Seneschal before the house had grown large enough to fill its hierarchy from its own rolls. Evanuelle had passed into Koric's embrace years ago. Now House Doth'Doluthan served House Doth'Dakar, their families joined many times by friendship, marriage, and mutual self interest. Asandrelle had her grandmother's grace and charm, as well as her talent for management and supervision. Her husband, Graeston Doth'Doluthan, was a Captain in the Imperial Navy. He skippered the war galley Waveborn Dominion, though his name was on the short list to replace the retiring Captain of The Black Talon, the Empires mostly heavily enchanted war ship.

"Excellent", he replied, "what's first?"

"Your Majesty, Josiash Alharagalost, High Seat of House Alharagalost, is here from the homeland. He has come to formally thank you for the land and holdings you are granting his family and to introduce you to the drow he has chosen as his High Seat Disteritus." Kasryn smiled. He always smiled when some one said the word Disteritus. One of the largest changes in drow societies House structure in a millennia, all due to him and his brother. The incredible distance between the drow homeland and the empire made attempting to run a House in both very difficult. Each House he granted land in the Empire to now created a High Seat Disteritus to oversee the House's interests in Lark. The Disteritus still owed his allegiance to his High Seat, but was empowered to run the House as they saw fit. The High Seat Disteritus would create an entire Disteritus court for the Imperial branch of the family.

"Well, let's not keep them waiting.", He said. Asandrell nodded and left the room, returning shortly with two drow noble behind her.

"Josiash," Kasryn said warmly, striding forward and clasping the High Seat's arm, "It has been too long."

"Indeed, your Imperial Majesty", The first drow replied. He was a short man, well groomed, with short yellow-white hair and a somewhat pinched and narrow face. The drow behind him dropped to one knee. He was tall, for a drow. His hair was worn in a multitude of small white braids, each banded in silver, and he wore robes of a dark forest green. He carried a long wooden box under one arm. Kasryn stepped around Josiash and took the mans left arm, gently pulling him to his feet.

"I do no ever ask another drow to kneel to me, young man.", he said, looking the drow in the eye. "Drow kneel to no one. If a Drow cannot command respect from you while you stand, he is not worthy of it. Koric himself taught me that."

The younger drow nodded slowly. "Serving the Emprice will be interesting, I think, Your Majesty."

Josiash turned as well. "Kasryn, may I introduce my nephew, Koristan Alhargalost, who is to be my Disteritus in the Empire. He is an accomplished arcanist, a student of wizardry, whose exploits in the homeland have won him the sapphire teluskiira. Though young, he has also served my House Seneschal as Treasurer for many years."

Kasryn nodded. "Welcome Korsitan, I expect you'll serve House Alharagalost here as well as you have back home."

"I will, your Majesty." The young drow responded. "Please accept this gift, that our House may properly thank you for the opportunities you have granted us." He held out the long wooden box.

Kasryn took the box and set it on his desk. He didn't bother checking for traps or enchantments. If the box made it this deep into the palace, it was clean. He slid the top off and looked inside. A beautifully carved staff lay nestled on a bed of velvet with in. It was intricately carved to look like a pillar of solid flames, each end slightly wider than the mid point. The wood was a dark, nutty brown with a slight golden sheen when the light caught it. Kasryn gently lifted it out of the box, his eyes wide. "Josiash....this is Da'Chora wood. This is a princely gift, indeed, my friend. I cant take such a thing from your House."

"My eldest brother is Telvuran Da'Churni." Josiash replied. "Though he left the family when he joined that Order, we have remained in contact. The gift is both from House Alhargalost and the Telvuran Da'Churni, for all you have done for our people." He stepped up to Kasryn and took the staff into his hands, whirling it expertly. "As strong as dwarven steel, " He continued, "yet lighter than oak. Only those of my brothers order truly understand the wood, and the gift comes with the price that you never attempt to discern its properties. It has been heavily enchanted by the Order, the details are on a scroll still in the box." He handed the staff back to Kasryn.

"I do accept it, from both your House and the Order. Thank you." Kasryn said softly, running his hands over the intricate carvings. The door opened again and Assandrelle reentered the room.

'I'm sorry to interrupt, your Majesty, High Seat, Disteritus", She said, nodding to each in turn, "The Brothers Unizar are here, they say the have an urgent matter to bring to your attention."

Kasryn nodded, "Bring them in, Asandrelle." She left the room and shortly thereafter, a pair of teiflings walked in.

"Your Majesty," Valruuk began, ignoring the other two drow in the room, "Pellaeon has sent out a distress call to the College. He is north of Doth'Dakar and in danger." Sal said nothing, but sized the other two drow in the room up from under his fedora.

Kasryn's raised an eyebrow. "What could be in that rustic town that would threaten Cyian's High Priest, Val?"

"I have no idea, Kas," Josiah and Koristan both looked shocked at the teifling's brazen familiarity. "We should...." Both teiflings suddenly vanished from the room, leaving only a loud POP behind as the air rushed back into the place they had occupied.

"Dammit", Kasryn muttered. "Now what"


END OF SCENE SIX

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Interlude: Shadows in Darkness

City of Obtenebrae
Plane of Shadows
Shadow of Severall

Derrik Kaellis, known in myth and legend in the Prime Material as "The Duskwalker", drifted slowly up the spiral stairs of the Dusk Tower, largest of the many spires of the city of Obtenebrae. A sense of anticipation and excitement like he had never felt was growing in him with each flight he ascended. This would be a momentous day, indeed. One he had been working for, preparing for for nearly a thousand years. Every shred of focus, every scrap of attention had been concentrated on this one goal. Soon, the legends he had so carefully constructed around himself would come into sharp focus, and the world would once again stand in awe of his power.

He continued upward, feet never actually touching the steps below him, the charcoal colored shadow granite walls sliding past him. Shadow granite and dark iron, both pulled from the shadow of the range known on the Prime as the Troll Mountains, made the entire city. Obtenebrae itself had taken almost two full centuries to properly construct, following the guidelines of his arcane research. The city sat on a massive plate, nearly 160 feet thick, of interlocking layers of the two materials. Every building and tower, every street, even the cities sewers were made from those two substances. Nothing of the Prime, only those two materials, would be able to anchor the incredible shadow magics he would infuse them with.

The black iron doors above him swung open at his approach, and he drifted out onto the the towers pinacle, a thirty foot wide octagon shaped area. His wife, Taliza, was already there waiting for him. She slid over to him, interlocking her fingers behind his neck and leaned back to look into his silvery eyes with her own metallic violet ones.

"Everything is prepared, Derrik.", Her low velvety voice also brimming with excitement. "The beasts are trapped in their Circles, and the rest of the mages are in place, ready to begin the channeling."

The Duskwalker smiled down at her, his hands on her slim waist. "You never disappoint, my dear." Once, long ago, the two of them had been enemies. She the power behind the throne of a lunatic who called himself "The Overlord", leader of the newly named Empire of Lark and He the brother of Sierra Linenbright, the woman who wanted nothing but to wrest that throne from him. Once the Overlord was dead at he and his siblings feet, Taliza had thrown her lot in with them. Over several years, as she had been gobbling up ever scrap of Shadow magic lore he fed her, a mutual respect and friendship had grown between them. The day she had come to him asking to be made into a Shade, he had asked for her hand in marriage. A thousand years later, they made a fearsome couple, dominating huge areas of the Shadowwyld together.

A simple melody began playing from behind him, played on a lute of some kind. He turned and saw the small form of one of his oldest companions, a Shadoukar named Nixl. The diminutive little shadow fey being sat on the wall of the tower, a small dark lute in his hands, looking out over the city. Somewhere, the swarthy little man had found a wide brimmed hat in light grey, with a dark band holding an enormous black feather sticking up from it. The feather bobbed and waved as the music took on a playful air and he sang,

"He rights the wrongs
and wrongs the rights,
He slips from day
and slides past night,
He laughs at darkness
and scoffs at light,
The Duskwalker is of Shadow!"

Derrik laughed, "What was that supposed to be, Nixl?"

The little shadowman bounded to his feet, turning on the spot and swept his hat off in a flourishing bow. 'I'm writing a song about you, Derrik!", he exclaimed.

Derrik sighed, "Today is not a day for play. We have serious work to be about, Nixl, do you need something?"

The innocent and playful look slid off Nixl's face. He pointed at The Duskwalker with his hat. "I've known the truth of you far longer than you have, Shade. None know more than I what today is." He eyes shifted from Derrik's face to the bobbing and jiggling feather on his hat, and his playful countenance returned instantly. "Well, you do have work to do, so I'll just leave you to it. Good luck! We're all counting on you!" With that, he flipped himself off the wall and the exploded into tatters of shadow that streaked down into the city.

Taliza shook her head, "That one never changes.", she said, with a touch of irritation.

The Duskwalker chuckled, "Not in the least. Not since the day he came to me at the crossroads, answering my call for the lore of the Shadow Plane. And not that I would want him to, he is far more wise than his childish behavior suggests." He slid over to the edge of the tower, looking down. Balconies ringed the top five floors of the tower, each several feet wider than the one above it. Mages stood on those balconies, each preparing to channel their magics through the tower and into him. Several of them were his and Taliza's own children.

He looked out past the walls of the city. At each cardinal compass point, a huge silvery circle of light could be seen. Within each circle, an enormous black worm thrashed, trapped by the light. Nightcrawlers, ready to be sacrificed to help power his magic. They were powerful and majestic creatures of the Shadow Plane, but their death was needed for his Mythal to live, and so they would die.

He floated back to the center of the octagon. "Come, my dear," He said to his wife, "it is time to begin." She drifted over to join him. He cast a simple Ghost Sound spell, and a deep chime rang out, signalling to all the mages gathered below him that it was time. He followed it with a Greater Arcane Sight, so that he could see the mighty magical weavings he would create. Then the true work began.

Below him, the many assembled mages began casting spells, directing their magics into the tower which then channeled that power up to Taliza. His wife gathered those magics, converting it to raw shadowy energy that she then passed to him. The weaving began. He sent out massive streamers of shadow magic over the city. He laced them together into an intricate web that formed a dome of thrumming power over Obtenebrae. An hour passed, then another, then many more. Each thread was an effect, each effect resonated with magic, sending out energies that would power and sustatin the threads around it. Slowly, painstakingly, he wove his Mythal, an epic magic that would cover his entire city, self sustaining and eternal. Each thread lead back to the growing knot of power floating in front of him. Occaisonally, he heard one of the mages below him collapse from exhaustion, and the power being fed to Taliza would slacken momentarily. She would then enhance that flow of power with her own magics, never letting the energies he needed lessen for more than a moment.

Finally, the weaving was complete. An enormous dome of black lacy webbing extended out over the city, past the walls, just on the outside of the circles trapping the Nightcrawlers. Derrik and Taliza took a moment to rest, both feeling worn and haggard from long hours of channeling those incredible rivers of magic. Then, each extended their hands and turned their palms down. The intricate knot of power before them sank down, into the tower. Down and down it slid, through floor after floor. As it did, it pulled tight the web across the city. As the lines of power crossed the circles outside the city, the nightcrawlers held within them burst, exploding into thick, roiliing clouds of shadowstuff. The web pulled tighter, pushing those clouds towards and then under the city walls, under the plate the city was built on.

Deep within the tower, the knot of power slid into a huge Shadowgem, a crystal composed of solidified shadows, the size of a small elephant. It locked in place within the gem, pulling the web flush with the city walls. Derrik felt the gem pulse with energy, the Mythal coming alive. Black lightnings crackled over the walls and buildings of the city. The flow of power from Taliza trickled off as the Mythal became self-sustaining.

Taliza sank to her knees, clearly worn out. She looked up at The Duskwalker. "Is it done, my love?"

"Let us find out.", he replied, ignoring his own exhaustion. He held out his hands once more and pushed his mind out to connect with the Shadowgem. Immediately, twin columns of twisting black energy shot out of the floor and into his palms. He could feel the Mythal, feel the power stretching across Obtenebrae. He could control it. He threw back his head and laughed.

"Yes, Taliza, it is done. We have our Mythal." He sent his first command to the the Shadowgem, activating one of its two most important abilities. The entire city shuddered. The towers of Obtenebrae shook and waved. Several ear popping cracking sounds split the air. Slowly, the city began rising. Massive thumps could be heard as dirt and rock that clung to the underside of the city's base plate fell. A billowing bed of thick black shadow clouds roiled under the city. Higher and higher the city rose, floating on its shadowclouds.

Derrik laughed again. He had done it. The flying city of Obtenebrae would be a legend unlike any other in Severall's history. The Duskwalker's mythos would grow. He felt for the small knots of thought and emotion that were his permanent connections to his siblings and sent them one word..."SUCCESS!"

Immediately, joy and pride flooded into his mind from his sister, Kari. From Zaithan, his brother, he heard, "Congratulations, brother mine! How does she handle?"

"Like a dream, Zait.", he sent back. "Like a massive shadowy dream come true."

"Kari and I are dealing with something at the moment, but we'll come to see your work first hand as soon as we can." Zaithan continued.

"Is everyhing alright?", Derrik inquired, "I can be there in a moment if you need me."

"Some one brought that mad beast Bazam-Gorag back to life," Zaith informed his brother. "The foolish creature came hunting me with a small army of Slaadi. Kari and I should be able to deal with it. We should be by to see you in a couple days."

"Keep me informed." The Duskwalker replied. "But dont trouble yourself with a visit to the Shadow Plane," He continued with a broad smile, 'I'll be coming to you..."


END OF INTERLUDE

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Seven: Pellaeon and Kasryn Doth'Dakar


Imperial Palace
Lark
Empire of Lark


Kasryn stared in consternation at the spot the Unizar twins had so recently occupied.

"How abrupt.", Koristan muttered. "Is this an average day in the Empire?", he asked his uncle.

Kasryn's eyes slid over to the young drow. "You'll find the Empire to be much like anywhere else, exactly as interesting as you choose to make it or as your enemies choose to make it for you." He placed the Da'Chora wood staff back in its box and closed his eyes, sending his thoughts across the Telepathic Bond he shared with the Unizars. "Is it the boys?"

Sal's quiet voice filled his mind. "Yes, they're in rough shape. We'll handle this, but that leaves you and the College of Pontiffs to help Pellaeon."

"Indeed.", Kasryn replied. "I'll expect a full report when all this is settled."

"Naturally.", was all the answer Sal sent. The connection went quiet.

Kasryn turned to his guests. "I'm sorry, but I will have to cut this meeting short. It seems like someone is testing the strength of my Empire as well as the limits of my patience. I'll be travelling north immediately to rescue a friend."

"Your Majesty," Josiash began, "If House Doth'Dakar rides to battle, I ask the honor of joining you. That any feel they can threaten Cyian's High Priest is insult to us all."

Koristan stepped forward and nodded his agreement. "I would come as well, if I may."

Kasryn walked out the door to his Seneschal's office and caught the attention of the page that sat next to her desk. "Boy, run to the Charger's Hostelry and ask Vian'rik to have himself saddled and prepared for battle. Inform him that I'll have two companions that will need suitable mounts and have him ask his siblings for volunteers." The young drow boy took off at a dead run.

"Pardon, your Majesty," Koristan sounded confused, "Did you just ask your mount to ask to be saddled?"

Kasryn offered only a smile in response.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Large Town of Sulisturn

Pellaeon grunted as he swung his mace at the huge, spider-like Belbilith before him. The mace's head punched through the creatures chitinous carapace, splattering a foul green-white sludge across him. He gasped in another breath, a deep ache burning in his side as he did. A few moments earlier a second Belbilith, dead now, had caved in the side of his armor. He had healed the damage to himeself, but the huge dent pressing into his torso was making both movement and breathing difficult.

Pellaeon stood about 50 feet in front of a large opening between the ends to two large Walls of Stone he had hastily erected to stem the tide. Two of his junior priests stood atop the left wall trying to stop the flying demons from running amok in the city. One stood on the right wall. The other three were dead. Surprsingly, however, his junior priests were not alone. Sulisturns City Watch and many of its militia had joined the fight. From the walls and from rooftops, archers tried to bring the fliers down. The hole between the two walls was plugged with humans striving to stop their town from being overrun. They fought with what ever weapons they could find, wood axes and rusty swords were common, but Pellaeon had seen a butcher, cleaver in each hand, in the mix as well as a woman with a broom trying to beat a Quasit out of the air. But for all that their fight was inspiring, at least a hundred lay dead. Probably more. Definately more if help didnt come soon.

He smashed his mace through the Belbilith's head, red axiomatic power bursting from it as he did. He turned, casually stomping on a dretch under foot, then lurched back suddenly, caught in the enormous pincer of a Glabrezu. The beast squeezed, Pellaeon felt his armor being crushed even further, smashed into his chest. He began the words of an Order's Wrath, but the Glabrezu spat a word of Power at him, and he slumped in its claw, stunned. The beast held him up and smiled gruesomely, that vice like grip continuing to crush him.

The glabrezu's eyes suddenly bulged, and the thing convulsed once, then twice, as its massive heart burst from it's chest. It dropped Pellaeon, still stunned, to the ground. He landed facing the walls he had built and the large hole between them, and watched as the demons heart sailed through the air to land, almost serenely, in the mithral gauntleted hand of a drow. Of average height, he wore simple black robes that just barely covered the tops of his soft black slippers. The drows white hair was bone strait and long, hanging down to his knees, and framing his face. That face showed the wear of many years, grey lips thin and lined, crows feet wrinkling his eyes. Pellaeon would have smiled if he hadn't been paralyzed. Help at last. Thesaad Houseless, High Pontiff of Koric, whom many knew as The Martyr of Koric, had come.

Thesaad's right hand burned with Darkfire, his left with the cold energy of a Darkbolt spell. Some of each blasted out to catch a Quasit trying to sneak up and sting the stunned Pellaeon. An enormous six-armed Marilith slithered in between the two drow, rearing up to laugh at Thesaad.

"I like your friend collapsed and crushed on the ground, priestling.", It hissed at him. "Perhaps I'll make him watch while I flay your flesh from your bones." It raised all six of its huge hooked sabre's.

Thesaad's voice was an icy calm. "If your ego is such that you believe yourself capable of striking a Priest of Koric without incurring his Unholy Retribution,", he began, raising his arms and holding them straight out to either side, "then I invite you to test that theory."

The Merilith reared back, hissing "Foolish little priest, is your faith in your absent god so strong that you would let me strike you down in the hope he will avenge you? Then die!" It lunged forward, impaling the drow on all six of its blades. Blood fountained from his wounds, splashing all over the creature. Pellaeon almost pitied the beast. He knew what was coming. Thesaad raised his head, a cold fire burning in his red pupils, as his Blood Vengeance spell triggered.

Every drop of his blood on the Marilith detonated at once, a thunderous blast of profane power that tore the beast into pieces. The humans and demons nearest him all shied away as chunks of the marilith rained down around him. His wounds were already beginning to close from his Ring of Regeneration, but he raised his hands and cast a Mass Heal, letting the chilled darkness of Koric's healing wash over himself, Pellaeon, and many of the humans and drow nearest him. The spell washed Pellaeon's paralysis away as well.

Pellaeon climbed wearily to his feet, then ducked and turned as Thesaad sent a Darkbolt winging over him to hit a charging Nalfeshnee. The black lance of energy slammed into the monster at the same time as another ebon bolt, this one an Energy Drain hit it from above. The creature withered, its life sucked away. Pellaeon looked up. Above the battle, three bat-winged black steeds wheeled about, each bearing a drow rider. He could just make out the glinting silver of Kasryn's crown, the VertaLeona. He smiled broadly and swiftly cast a spell to amplify his voice.

"PEOPLE OF SULISTURN!", his shout boomed across the battle, "BEHOLD OUR SALVATION. HE HAS COME, BROTHER TO GODS, CHOSEN OF CYIAN, KASRYN DOTH'DAKAR, THE EMPEROR OF LARK!"

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Kasryn chuckled to himself. Pellaeon was never one to let a chance to prosletyze pass him by. His gaze wandered around the field, stopping briefly on the bodies of the three fallen drow, taking in the large number of human dead, feeling his anger rising. Pellaeon had set forth to deliver this town to the Empire, so to Kasryn, it was already his. These...twisted things of the abyss sought to destroy what was claimed in his and Cyian's names. Between Pellaeon's grand announcement and his own anger, he was very inclined to show these people exactly what having the protection of the Empire meant.

To his left, Josiash flew on his Hellfire Charger like he had been born to. A darkwood staff blurred in his hands, knocking demons out of the sky. To his right, Koristan wobbled unsteadily on his mount, winging 4th and 5th circle spells into the demon horde below. The annoyed looks his mount passed to Kasryn told him who was really in control of their flight.

A succubus and a quasit buzzed passed, just over his head, the succubi's rapier glancing off Kasryn's protective spells. He reached out and snatched the quasit out of the air and the pulled the little beast's head off with a twist of his hands. The spells he and Valruuk layered themselves and each other with every morning made him far stronger than your average wizard.

"Ooooooo," the Succubus cooed at him, "You're a fit one. Perhaps I shold enjoy you before I remove your entrials." Her hand slid down her grossly voluptuous body. Horrified surprize replaced her smugness when Vian'rik, Kasryn's mount, bellowed "Die Demon Whore!" and bathed her in twin jets of red-black hellfire that streamed from his nostrils. She screamed as she fell. Kasryn patted Vian'rick neck. "Feel better?"

"Intolerable creatures!", was all the response he got.

'Josiash, Koristan," Kasryn called out, "Keep them off me. It's high time I ended this." They both nodded.

Kasryn looked down at the headless quasit in his hands. He had never cast this spell in combat before. It had taken the better part of a year and enough gold to bankrupt a town like Sulisturn to develop it. Called Tyrant Lord's Clarion Call, it was a dedication to his brother's favorite 3rd circle spell Sound Lance. He had designed the spell with the option of using a creatures blood in the casting to make the spell only affect creatures of a similar nature. The quasits body should work nicely. His eyes locked on the Horde below him, and a chant arose from his lips. He guided Vian'rik with his knees as his hands wove arcane symbols in the air. The quasits body crumbled to dust as the spell took hold. He felt the incredible power of the spell reaching out of him. Reaching out to feed on that which it needed. All sound faded.

The battle below slowed, demons, humans, and drow alike startled by their sudden loss of hearing. A balor bellowed hatred, yet no sound emerged. It's massive fiery sword bashed down upon Pellaeon's shield, but no clash of metal on metal rang out. nearly mindless dretches wriggled about in confusion.

Kasryn's arms were held out to either side, his hands curled as if holding a ball in each, yet nothing was there. He gathered the sounds. The sounds of wind rushing through Vian'ric's mane. The noisy clatter of Josiash's staff battering an incubus. All the roars, and screams, and clashes, and thumps of the battle below. They all belonged to him now. Sound itself, belonged to him now. The air between his clawed fingers began to distort and ripple with condensed sonic energies. Perfect spheres of transparent noise, vibrating in his hands. He smiled.

BWWWWWAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Deep, so deep and so powerful his bones rattled with the force of it, the sound burst outward from him, visible only as an intense spheroid ripple in the air rushing outwards from his left hand. It raced through the air, sliding peacefully over drow, hellfire charger, and human alike. The demons fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

BWWWWWWAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The sonic bomb in his right hand went off, stronger and deeper then the first. The wave of energy rushed outward. Quasits exploded in the air. Incubi and sucubi fell from the skies as the bones shattered, organs rupturing. On the ground, the demon horde writhed. Bone shards bursting from their skin, eyes exploding in their sockets. Teeth and skulls shattering. Chitinous plates cracked, spewing vile green demon blood everywhere.

BBBBBBBWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Both pulsed at once. The crushing wall of sound slammed into the horde with the force of a falling mountain. Dretches were pulped, mariliths and balor alike, the strongest demons present, collapsed, bones turned to jelly, skin blasted off their frames, organs crushed.

Silence.

Wet, splattering as bits and chunks and sprays of demon parts fell from the sky, landing in the foul pool of blood and gore that had so recently been a marauding demon horde.

More silence.

It started with one small voice. "LARK! LARK! LARK!" then several more "LARK LARK LARK!" within moments, all of the people gathered for Sulisturns defense were shouting. "LARK! LARK! LARK! LARK! LARK!"

Kasryn smiled again. These people were his, now.

END OF SCENE SEVEN

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Eight: Shazer'sal and Valruuk Unizar and Vyrr'vic and Velvi'dar Doth'Dakar


The Great Kalis Wood
65 miles south of the southern border of the Eastern Expanse

Vyrr'vic struggled to rise, his vision dimming more around the edges, and a coldness creeping into his limbs. He had several potions of healing in his pouch, if he could just reach them, but his hands didn't seem to be working quite right. He coughed, a thick wet sound accompanied by a mist of blood. As his hands fumbled around for his pouch, his gaze fell to the arrow shaft sticking out of his chest. It vibrated slightly with each beat of his heart.

A shadow fell across him, and he looked up. The Arcane Archer stood directly over him, another arrow nocked and pointed at Vyrr's head.

"You were warned, drow.", the elf spat at him. "You were warned that we knew you and your cousin's talents. Warned that we were prepared to take you down. It was foolish of you to fight us under such circumstances. Now you reap the rewards of your idiocy. You and your cousin will die, and your mad quest to expand the empire will die with you." He drew on the bow, arrow pulled back to his fair skinned cheek, then suddenly jerked to the side, his arrow flying high and wide into the forest. The elf looked down at his own chest, his mouth opening and closing in confusion, staring at a purple shaft of energy laced with black-red hellfire jutting out of him.

With his vision dimming a bit further, Vyrr'vic saw a face appear suddenly just behind the Archer's left shoulder. A face with deep red eyes and topped with a black fedora.

"And when you were making such preparations," Sal's calm and quiet voice whispered into the archers ear, "did you even once pause to consider that the two most important scions of House Doth'Dakar would never be sent into danger without the means to call for aid?" Sal's voice was laced with contempt. "Who stands the fool now, elf?"

Vyrr'vic let his head fall back to the ground, too tired to hold it up any longer.

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Sal reached around the elf and grabbed the doomed archers face. Using his mindblade, thrust through the elf's chest, to hold the body still, he wrenched the elf's head around, snapping several vetabrae. The elf slid off his mindlblade and collsapsed to the ground limply. Sal galnced down at Vyrr'vic, his eyes sliding over the young drows severe wounds, then shrugged. Any moment now, Val's healing would be washing over the boys. They were no longer in any danger. He turned, planning to attack the remaining elves, then stopped, stunned at what he was seeing.

Valruuk stood above the unconscious form of Velvi'dar. His hands were wrapped around the neck of the bladesinger, holding the elf a foot off the ground and shaking him violently. Small gouts of hellfire spurted from the elf's ears, eyes, and mouth as Val roasted the him from the inside out. Val's yellow-orange eyes blazed with anger, his teeth clenched together. "You.....you....you dare lay hands on these boys. You will suffer eternally for this." Val's voice growled through his teeth as the elf convulsed violently in his hands.

The elven woman, a cleric if Sal was correct, stood behind Val, her mace rising and falling as she attempted to swing on him. Each time, however, her arm stopped half way through its swing, her attempts foiled by Val's aura that prevented any from attacking him that he did not attack first. Only the strongest of wills could ignore that aura.

Sal stared at his brother. In hundreds of years together, he had never seen Valruuk give in to sheer rage like this. Something was wrong here. Shazer'sal slid back into the shadows and began studying the beautiful elven priestess. He had to finish this and bring Val back to his senses.

Val tossed the bladesinger aside and rounded on the cleric. The body slammed into a tree and exploded into ash and molten armor. He glared at the woman, stalking forward towards her. "You vile, light worshipping, whore!", he spat, laughing almost coarsely at her attempts to hit him. She stopped swinging and began a Righteous Might spell. Val's hands whipped up and countered it. "You will suffer, bitch. Your pain will be legendary. The nine hells themselves will cringe in terror at what I will do to you." The cleric was backpeddling now, striving to stay out of Val's reach, trying more spells, all easily countered by the enraged teifling. "YOU WILL CRY BLOODY TEARS FOR CENTURIES!" Val bellowed at her.

Sal, now starting to grow very worried about his brother, shrunk his mindblade down into a stiletto, then slid it into the elven clerics ear. She convulsed once, then dropped dead at his feet. "Val," he began, 'heal the boys and...." He was cut off as Valruuk lunged forward, swinging a fist at Shazer'sal's face. Not once, ever, in centuries had the Unizar twins swung on each other. What in the name of the Nine is going on?, Sal thought to himself. He neatly side-stepped his brother then brought his own fist around slammed it into Val's face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"What in the name of our Infernal Father has gotten into you?" Sal shouted. He pointed a finger at each of the fallen Doth'Dakar boys. "Snap out of this rage and heal them already!"

Valruuk looked up at his brother from the ground, a trickle of blood flowing from a freshly split lip. The rage in his eyes dimmed, and he shook his head trying to clear his mind. "What....what happened, Sal?" His gaze fell to Velvi'dar, lying on the forest floor in a pool of his own blood, then rose to his knees and cast a spell. Small tongues of hellfire licked up the Doth'Dakar cousins bodies, sealing wounds and healing damage. Velvi'dar sucked in a pained, gasping breath, then struggled to sit up.
Vyrr'vic sighed as the arrows in his body were burned to ash and his wounds sealed themselves.

Sal eyed his brother warily. Valrruk, for his part, was looking around the clearing as if seeing it for the first time. "Vel, Vyrr," He said, "how did you manage to find more elves this far from Crossriver?"

"We don't know," Vyrr replied, "They came upon us an hour ago, in force. While fighting, we stumbled across a command camp, but had to run, there were far to many of them."

"They've been chasing and harassing us ever since." Velvi'dar added, working his left shoulder in circles to check for any remaining stiffness or damage.

"What direction was this camp in?", asked Sal. As one, the boys pointed to the southeast. Sal and Val looked at each other for a moment, then Sal nodded and slid away from the clearing, vanishing into shadows as he did. The boys stared at the spot Shazer'sal had just vanished from.

"I wish I knew how he did that." Velvi'dar complained. Vyrr snorted a laugh.

"I think it is time to cleanse this forest of its elven infestation." Valruuk said to the two of the them. He raised his hands to the sky, his voice ringing out in a terrible chant. Two lines of hellfire began tracing enormous circles into the floor of the clearing. Vel and Vyrr recognized the spell as Infernal Legion, a spell that would summon forth a series of devils from the Nine Hells, each consecutively more powerful than the last. They had never seen someone cast two such spells at once, though. As Val finished the casting, devils began appearing in the cirlces, first two score of lemures, then bearded devils, and so on. As those spells ran their course, Valruuk cast a third one, this time a Gate. A huge fiery portal appeared before them, and they could see the blasted and hellish landscape of one of the layers of Hell on the other side. Val's voice rang out again. "ASHANDERAK, I INVOKE THEE! STEP FORTH INTO THIS WORLD FOR I WOULD HAVE YOUR SERVICE!"

A huge, terrible beast stepped out of the gate. Almost twenty feet tall, it was covered in perfectly formed red scales. It's red leather wings flared out to either side and massive, heavily muscled arms folded across it's enormous chest. Vyrr stared in awe, it was a Fiend of The Pit, one of the most powerful forms of devils. The Pitfiend glared down at the Doth'Dakars and Valruuk.

"Well now", it began in crisp, flawless drow, 'If it isn't Mephistopholes's whelp. How dare you summon me, Valruuk. I am not some simple devil, newly raised to Fiend of the Pit, to be ordered about by the likes of you." It raised it's voice. "I COMMAND TWO SCORE LEGIONS, YOU IMPUDENT WRETCH! YOU OVERSTEP YOUR POWER."

Valruuk glared back at the beast. "I know who you are, just as I know your legions have been rotated back to the City of Dis for resupply and redeployment, leaving you with little to do at the moment."

The infernal monster stepped forward, "Your father cant protect you from me if I decide....."

Valruuks shout cut the creatures statement off. "MY FATHER IS NO LONGER A FACTOR!", he bellowed, the earlier rage creeping into his eyes again. "MY BROTHER AND I ENJOY THE PATRONAGE OF ONE HIGHER THAN ANY OTHER!"

"Temper, temper, Valruuk Unizar.", The pitfiend smiled cruelly. "What is it you wish of me?"

Val took a second to calm himself again. He didn't understand why he was so angry, all of the sudden. "This forest is crawling with elves. I have brought forth two legions which will be placed under your command. I don't want an elf left alive within ten miles of where we now stand."

Ashanderak nodded, grinning wickedly. "I think I can accommodate such a request. What, exactly, will I be receiving for this service?"

Val glared at the beast again. "How well you perform this duty will determine how much of your earlier boasts and threats make it into to my report to the Halls of Records in Baator. You payment is the chance to enjoy yourself slaughtering the forces of good on the Prime. Do not press me further, Ashanderak."

A deep rumbling growl was the beasts only reply, yet it turned and began barking orders at the variety of devils now filling the clearing.

"Come, gentlemen," Val said to the Doth'Dakars, "let us go see this Command Camp you found earlier."

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Shazer'sal crouched, all unseen, in the back of the elven command tent. The place was all abuzz with activity, elves moving into and out of the the tent bringing the elven commanders reports. A pair elves stood around a table strewn with maps and reports. Another elf lay sleeping on a cot in the corner opposite Sal. He entertained himself by naming each elf according to its features. Square-jaw seemed to be the leader. While not a true half-elf, that one clearly had human heritage somewhere in his ancestory. No pure-blooded elf had a bone structure that robust.

Blue-hair, a woman with long curly hair the color of the afternoon sky, read a report that had just come in then looked up at Square-Jaw. "We've just had word. The Doth'Dakars have been engaged, we should have them dead or in custody shortly.", she said.

Square-Jaw smiled. "It seems the Grinishir's information was correct again." He replied, glancing at the sleeping elf. "I know not where it gets its information, but twice now it has led us straight to those two. This time, there will be no escape for them."

Blue-Hair looked troubled. "Indeed, but I would still know more of what this Grinishir is. It has fed us the information we request for years now, yet we know not what it is, where it gets its information, or why it gives it to us."

"I know your resevations well," Square-Jaw responded, "But not once has it led us astray. We will continue using its information as long as it is willing to give it." Blue-Hair nodded.

Sleepy-Face groaned, then stretched, slowly waking himself. Square-Jaw turned and looked at the waking elf expectantly. "Well," he began, "what news? Have you spoken to the Grinishir?"

Sleepy-Face shook his head. "Again, I called to it and again my dreams were empty of its presence. It has been days since it last appeared to me in my sleep. Perhaps it is done with us."

Sal had heard enough. They were getting their information about the boys whereabouts from something called The Grinishir, which spoke to them in dreams. They knew nothing about the being, yet took its information at face value. There was little he could find out here that Val, Kas, or himself would consider reliable.
Outside the tent, screams could suddenly be heard. The camp erupted into chaos. Sal smiled, it seems his brother had arrived.

Shazer'sal exploded into motion. Blue-hair's eyes widened for a brief moment before his thrown mindblade ripped through her throat. With the speed of thought, a new mindblade sprang from his hand. Square-Jaw whipped his long sword from his sheathe and launched the table in Sal's direction with one hand. Sal used the table as cover to slide back into the shadows. Sleepy-Face leapt up off his cot, his hands moving through the arcane motions of some spell. He didn't get the chance to finish it. Sal tore him open from navel to neck, the elf's insides sliding out and falling to the floor with a thick wet splat.

Sal stood and raised his glowing mindblade, pointing it at Square-Jaw. The elf's eyes narrowed. "It shouldn't surprise me that Lark would send assassins.", he spat.

Sal smiled.

"I'm no easy mark, shadow-killer.", the elf continued. "You will pay for what you have done to my friends."

Sal's smile broadened.

"Any moment now, this tent will fill with my forces, coming to my aid, fool!" The elf shouted.

Sal continued smiling, though he raised a single eye-brow and cocked his head to listen to the commotion outside.

For the first time, Square-Jaw seemed to hear the clamor and screams of battle coming from outside the tent. All the color drained from his face. "There aren't enough of Larks forces in this forest to take us. You cant think you'll win." The elf was beginning to sweat nervously. Something in him seemed to crack, and he charged forward, attacking Sal.

Square-Jaw was good, Sal grudgingly admitted to himself as he casually lifted a foot over a blow aimed at his ankle. Probably good enough to give either of the boys, perhaps both, a run for their money. He spun out of the way of a thrust to the kidney and gave the elf a shallow cut on his forearm as a lesson about overextension. Square-Jaw ignored the cut and spun his sword through a series of blurring sweeps and cross-cuts designed to force Shazer'sal backwards, towards the upended table. Sal instead rolled forward under them then quickly stood up, well inside the elf's guard, nose to nose with him, still smiling.

Square-Jaw growled, not noticing yet the blood running out of his mouth, and stepped back, attempting to draw the length of his sword across Sal's neck as he did. Sa'ls mindblade slid out of the elf's gut as he moved back, and the teifling simply caught the elfs sword with his bare hand, trusting his fiendish resistance to damage to hold back the blade. Square-Jaw snarled and attempted to yank his blade from Sal's hand, then grimaced in pain, noticing for the first time the hole in his gut. He looked up at Sal's ever present smile, then collapsed to the ground.

Shazer'sal Unizar glanced down at the fallen elf briefly, then slid out of the tent and back into the shadows, to the screams of dying elves.

END OF SCENE EIGHT

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Nine: Zaithan Delthiir and Kari Shassa-Telan


Castle Arcanthus
The Western Eros
The Empire of Lark

Zaithan ripped the crystal bladed long sword in his right hand, Thoughshorn, through the stomach of the blue slaad in front of him. Mindwraught, his left handed sword clove through the arm of a red slaad. Four thick and rubbery black tentacles had sprouted from between Zaithan's shoulders. Two of them wrapped around the now armless red slaad and launched it forward over Zaithan's head and into a pair of red slaadi. The third was wrapped around the ankles of a green slaad and was using the beast as a club, smashing away at other blues and reds. The fourth lunged forward and shoved itself down the throat of a blue and the out the back of the monsters head. Zaithan opened his mouth and belched forth an enormous cone of acid, and a dozen slaad before him screamed as they began melting.

A few minutes after his arrival and the beginning of the assault, a twenty man squad of Riftjumpers had teleported in and placed themselves at Zaithan's command. The elite fighting force of House Doth'Noir, these drow were no strangers to dire circumstances and had followed Zaithan off the walls and into the horde below. He led them now, the point of a large wedge of death weaving back and forth in front of the south wall of the castle. He'd already lost four of the Riftjumpers, and the slaadi just kept coming.

From the top of the walls, defenders shot volley after volley of arrows into the chaotic army below. Casters; Arcane, Divine and Psionic, lobbed spells at the creatures, both on the ground and in the air. Yet the slaaad just kept coming. Zaithan knew this wouldn't end till the Slaadi general, Bazam-Gorag, was slain, but he hadn't been able to work his way through to the rear yet, it was all he and the Riftjumpers could do to keep the slaad off the walls.

With a burst of psionic energy, Zaithan sped himself up in time, becoming a blurred whirlwind of death. Crystal swords and tentacles spun and lashed, and slaadi died all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, Zaithan saw a dull grey armored form leap from the wall of the keep. The figure fell through the air and slammed into the ground landing on one knee as if kneeling. A gang of slaad rushed the figure, who stood and bellowed the words to a prayer.

"GREAT LORD OF BONES, GIVE UNTO THESE, MY ENEMIES, THE GIFT THAT I HAVE HELD TO MY HEART FOR ALL THESE CENTURIES. LET THEM REAP OF WHAT YOU HAVE SOWN WITHIN ME!"

The armored figure finished his chant, with arms wide open, and a dry wind began swirling around him. All at once, the wind rushed out and where it met slaadi, they disintegrated into sand and were carried off by the wind. Halo'tehp Turmesur, High Mortificant of Chal-Tsu, turned his desiccated face to Zaithan and bowed deeply. "Prince Consort Zaithan, I am here to render any assistance I can."

Zaithan grinned, he held many important titles within the Empire, yet to Hal, the only one that mattered was husband to Hal's Queen, Kari. "SQUARE THE CIRCLE!" Zaithan bellowed the order. The remaining rift jumpers formed a diamond pattern around Hal. Each member kept one eye on the cleric in the middle, who would now dictate the movement of the entire square. Where Hal went, the square would move with him.

The deadly diamond began moving, Hal rendering healing to those who needed it. As they drifted slowly to the right, a great cry went up from the battlements. Zaithan turned and saw two columns of Slaadi had begun climbing again, piling on top of each other to reach the top. Hal began moving the diamond in that direction. Just as they approached the first, however, massive twin jets of black negative energy erupted under both piles of slaad. "BACK 30!" Ziathan roared, knowing that at any moment, those thin jets of negative energy would burst out to a huge circumference. The entire diamond leapt back, just in time. The torrents of black energy burst into thirty foot wide columns of icy withering death. The slaad on the walls shriveled and collapsed under their power.

Zaithan turned and scanned the skies. Negative Energy Geyser was one of his wife's favorite spells. High up in the sky, he saw her, riding on her pristinely preserved silver dragon zombie, with a host of undead winging and swirling around her.

As he watched, Kari slid off the dragon, allowing her own Fly spell to hold her aloft. She motioned with one arm and the dragon and a small host of zombified hippogriffs and griffons dived downward. The undead dragon slammed into the slaad horde and began lashing out with claw and fang while the other undead swooped and dived, attacking and then winging away.

Zaithan smiled up at Kari. "Welcome to the fun, dear.", he sent along their Telepathic Bond.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kari smiled as her husband's voice slid into her mind. "You're incorrigible." she sent back.

She drifted over the battle, a small number of wraiths and shadows still swirling around her. Her augmented vision had already picked out the huge flaming form of Bazam-Gorag at the rear of the force, but before she handled that problem she needed to even the odds a bit. She reached into her Bag of Holding and pulled out a pouch full of black pearls. Bazam-Gorag would learn a lesson all those who challenged the might of Chal-Tsu's church were forced to learn....It was hard to win a war when your own dead stood up to fight you.

Kari moved her hands through the intricate passes of one of her most powerful necromancy spells, the accompanying chant sliding from her lips with practiced ease. Legion of Undeath was a spell she had cast many times. She tossed the pouch into the air and it burst, the many black pearls inside swirled around her briefly then shot down towards the battlefield. Each pearl embedded itself into the forehead of a corpse. As she finished the spell, each corpse stood. Slaad, human, and drow alike, they rose from the ground, flesh and muscle sloughing off. Organs fell from bared rip cages and eyeballs popped out of their sockets. A gleaming red light lit within those empty eye sockets. With a swift mental command from their new Queen, the newly risen undead horde attacked the slaad army.

"KARI, THE WHORE OF UNDEATH!", Bazam-Gorag's twin voices bellowed over the din of the battle, "AT LAST YOU"VE COME TO FACE US!" The enormous yellow-orange Slaad Lord's mouths opened and it vomited twin bolts of chaos flame at her.

With a gesture, two of the misty wraiths flying around her broke off and intercepted the Chaos flame. The first wraith exploded into multicolored light that left streaks of red, blue, and green across the sky. The second turned to solid glass and plummeted to the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces. Strange things happened to those struck by chaos flame.

'Now, now Bazam-Gorag, there is no need to be so violent.", Kari answered the beast with a magically amplified voice. "I have not come to fight you. When I heard you were here, I thought I would bring you a gift....well, more a family reunion, actually."

Zaithan's voice burst into Kari's mind. "Kari, you cant be serious. If you unleash that thing it might turn on us!"

"Hush now, dear one.", she replied serenely. "I know what I'm doing."

Kari raise her hands to the sky and a pillar of energy erupted from her, the color of yellowed bone. It streaked into the air above and in front of her, stopping about five hundred feet away. The energy flared blindingly and then was gone, leaving in its place an gigantic ball of writhing chains. The chains were made of bone, and every inch of their surface was carved in intricate runes and symbols, all glowing in a variety of hues.

"WHAT IS THIS, UNDEAD WITCH?", Bazam-Gorag roared at her. "YOU WILL NOT STOP OUR VENGENCE, KARI! YOU WILL WATCH US RIP YOUR BROTHER-HUSBAND TO BITS AND THEN SUFFER THE SAME!"

Kari cast him a cool, analyzing gaze. "Times have changed, Slaad Lord. I am the Chosen of Chal-Tsu and ally to Vengence itself. You'll not have yours till either of them decide it is so." She waved a hand casually at the massive ball of chains and the sound of a thousand locks opening at once filled the air. A huge white blur fell from the center of the chains, smashing into the slaad horde below. The impact sent bodies and a rain of dirt flying in all directions. A stunned hush fell over the battle.

Where the thing had fallen, a huge crater had formed. As hundreds of eyes stared, a giant hand covered in a rubbery white hide reach up and grasped the lip of the crater. It had two massive white bony blades jutting out from the back of the hand. A second hand followed as a terrible monstrosity pulled itself out of the hole. It heaved itself out of the hole and stood to its full height, almost 25 feet tall. It was broad, with long arms that could nearly touch the ground. Like all the other slaadi on the field, it was frog-like, with an over sized head and a massive mouth. Its thick hide was gleaming white.

Kari studied the beast from the air. She had created this thing many years ago, long before she had truly mastered the complexities of creatures this epically powerful, and she had used a vial of The Great God Katdoral's blood in its creation, which had had....unexpected results. Chal-Tsu himself had come and collected the creature after its creation, telling her that it was far too strong for her to control, and that he would keep it locked away. This was the first time it had ever been unleashed, to her knowledge. She waved a hand and one of her journals appeared with a quill. The journal floated next to her and the quill began jotting down her observations as she spoke them.

As she watched, patches of the beasts flesh began to rot, bubbling with gangrenous slime, only to suddenly snap back to perfect healthy skin.

"Subject 0 remains locked in a state of necrotic flux." She murmerred to her journal. "After centuries, the chaotic matrix within the subject continues to counter the divine and necromantic energies attempts at negative energy equilibrium."

Below, the beast slammed its mighty fists into the ground and roared in rage. Even its shout was a thing of randomness, beginning with an angry roar, sliding into a deep atonal thrum, then ending in an ear piercing shriek. The things eye, the burning red glow of a skeleton when it first emerged, shifted to the bleeding and rotting messes of a zombies eyes, while its skin dried and desiccated like that of a mummy. Across the field, Bazam-Gorag stared at the thing that was once a powerful member of his own race in horror.

"Subject 0 appears to shift randomly through a variety of undead states, combining different characteristics without pattern or reason.", Kari continued dictating, ignoring the Slaad Lord. She had long since calculated Bazam-Gorag's most probable reaction to this scenerio, she was in no danger now.

The Slaad Lord spit in disgust and then unleashed a blistering torrent of Chaos flame at the undead white slaad. The two bolts lashed across the white slaad's chest, searing and liquefying parts of it at the same time, turning large patches of the beast to flaming oil. It screamed, a sound more of rage than pain, and turned to face Bazam-Gorag. The huge gouges in its torso began healing as the beasts skin rehydrated and then paled, losing its gleaming luster.

"In response to damage, Subject 0 has taken on the general palor of the vampire, and is now healing. Whether this effect is due to random coincidence, instinctual need, or conscious control is unknown at this time.", Kari observed.

The fiery Slaad Lord belched forth another gout of the sparkling chaos fire. The white slaad opened it's own immense mouth and a blast of glittering white chaos fire burst forth. The two streams of concentrated chaos slammed together between them and detonated. Intense purple light blasted out in all direction. To the left of the explosion, the field suddenly bloomed with thousands of flowers of all shapes and colors. To the right, the battlefield turned to a thick morass of acidic sludge. Slaad and undead began sinking and dissolving into the mess, the slaad screaming in pain.

"Subject 0 retains much of its ability to summon forth concentrated randomized energies, releasing them in a breath weapon as it did while living.", the Undead Queen commented.

The white slaad charged forward, bowling over lesser slaad as it hurtled towards Bazam-Gorag.

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Zaithan, like everyone else on the field, watched the titanic exchange between the two epic slaad. It was awe-inspiring...dangerously so. He hoped Kari really knew what she was doing, unleashing that beast.

He concentrated, renewing several psionic enchantments on both himself and the Riftjumpers near him. As long as they enemy was distracted, it was time to win this battle. "RENEW ATTACK!" he bellowed, and Hal, the mummy-priest began moving the diamond again, charging at the stunned slaad force.

Above, the defenders on the wall renewed their own attacks.
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Bazam-Gorag spun his giant pole-axe through the air and brought it down on the white slaad's head. It bit several inches deep into the beasts skull and then the white slaad exploded into thousands of small white beetles. The army of white scarabs swarmed over the Slaad Lord, biting and digging into his orangeish hide.

"Subject 0 displays a 0.4 second reaction speed in shifting between undead characteristics. Shifting appears to be situationally reactive as well. Probablility of shifting being entirely random now seems slim."

Bazam-Gorags body burst into flames and the beetles took flight, reassembling into the huge white slaad. Its chaotic bellow sounded again as the Slaad Lords pole axe bit deeply into its side, viscous white blood gushing from the wound. It wrapped a thick white hand around the haft of the pole-axe and snapped it, tossing the axehead to the ground. It's eyes turned brilliant green and its tongue, now long and tubular and covered in barbs, lashed out and punched into Bazam-Gorag's stomach. The tongue pulsed as it began gorging on the orange slaads innards.

"Even the rarer forms of undeath seem to exist within Subject 0's range of abilities. Swarm-shifter and Mohrg have both been displayed. Fascinating, as none of the components used in the creation of either were present during Subject 0's creation."

Bazam-Gorag seared the white slaads tongue to ash, and the spewed chaos flame across the monsters face. The white slaad stumbled backwards, rage and confusion on its face and mushrooms sprouted from its eyes and all across its toad like visage. It reached up and began tearing them out, bringing thick chunks of bloody flesh out with them. Bazam-Gorag charged forward, snatching up the axehead on the ground and slamming it into the white slaads chest. The tip of the pole-axe burst from the beasts back. It roared in pain, a sound like a thousand vases shattering.

"Subject 0 displays reaction to severe pain. Despite its insanity and its undead state, large portions of its central nervous system seem intact and functioning. Pain reception may be a sign that higher brain function can be restored."

The white slaad lunged forward. Viscious vampiric fangs slid from its mouth and it clamped its mouth down over the Slaad Lords left head, Bazam. The Gorag head turned to breath chaos flame when the white slaad's right arm shot up and slid into Gorags head as if sliding into water. The arm had a glistening misty quality to it, Kari observed.

"Most intriguing, Subject 0 can apparently achieve partial incorporeality, turning only portions of his body incorporeal. Subject 0 appears to be desanguinating Bazam-Gorag vampirically and Enervating him as does a wraith simultaneously."

Bazam-Gorag struggled against the white slaad, but to no avail. The Gorag head withered under the assault of negative energy. He sank slowly to his knees, gasping and struggling as the white monstrosity drained him of blood and life-force. The yellow-orange Slaad Lord collapsed to the ground. The white slaad slammed both fists down on the body and roared its victory.

Screams of terrors rose from the rest of the slaad army. Those powerful enough teleported away or took to the skies in flight. Most just turned and ran. Cheers began from atop the walls as the defenders realized they had won the day.

The white slaad walked around Bazam-Gorags corpse a couple times, the lay down on it stomach, head to head with the dead Slaad lord. It opened its mighty mouth wide, then wider, until it seemed almost that it would fold backwards, then inched forward. It slowly began devouring Bazam-Gorag whole, like a great python, its musculature twisting and flexing as pulled the corpse in.

Kari flew down to the ground and ran to her husband, leaping into his arms. "Zait! Isn't he glorious!", she cried, laughing as he spun her through the air.

Zaithan settled her to the ground and slid an arm around her shoulders. "That he most certainly is, my love." They watched for long minutes as the white slaad swallowed the corpse whole. Several minutes later, the beast attempted to stand up, but fell back onto its rear. It's entire torso was grossly distended and deformed from Bazam-Gorag's bluk. It opened its mouth to give one of those insane bellows, but all that came out was a loud belchy croak. It sat there on the ground, poking its stomach with a thick white finger as if confused about how it got so grossly stretched.

"I wonder if it gets heartburn.", Zaithan mused idly.

"Unlikely.", was Kari's only reply.

"It might be best to put the beast back in it's cage, Kari.", Zaithan said to her, turning her face to his with a gentle finger. "It could decide we're next on the menu at any moment. Or Castle Arcanthus, for that matter."

Kari sighed. "I suppose you're right. At least it got a good meal, though."

Zaithan laughed. Kari gestured with her left arm, and the chains flew down from the sky. As the first one lunged towards it, it reached out grabbed the chain with both hands, struggling to keep the chain at bay. It gave a loud terrified cry. The rest of the cahins swooped it and began wrapping the creature back into a ball. It fought the chains as hard as it could, but bellowed its fear as its head began sinking into them.

"Goodbye, my beautiful one.", Kari called sadly. Yellow-white energy flared to life under the chains, then blazed forth brightly. When the light died down, the beast and the chains were gone.


END OF SCENE NINE

[Sardinal]

Act One: The Butterfly Effect
Scene Ten: Everyone

The Imperial Palace
Lark Primus
Empire of Lark

There was a tension, palpable and thick, hanging in the council chamber. Kazryn felt it slide across him, like stepping slowly into a pool of water, as he entered the room. HIs bodyguards shut the door behind him, taking up positions outside to prevent anyone else from entering. The room was large and rectangular with large tapestries depicting maps of The Empire, The Confederacy, and other lands on the long west wall. The east wall was all crystal paned doors opening onto a lengthy balcony. Much of the room itself was taken up by a massive darkwood council table, around which his many councellors were now standing, having risen as he entered the room.

Not all the seats at the table were taken, he had called only those who had taken part in one of this days bizarre and irritating events. Kazryn left everyone standing, heading towards the rear of the room to pour himself a drink from the matching darkwood hutch there. Wine in hand, he strode over to the nearest of the balcony doors, all of which stood open to the nights warm air. Godless Nelune, the Charcoal grey moon associated with pure Law and Order hung high in the sky, casting a pale grey light across the city, while deep blue Vaeruna, now home to Sierra Linenbright, rode low in the south. The eastern horizon was just beginning to lighten, heralding the coming dawn.

"Sit, if you wish it", he tossed the offer over his shoulder. He waited till the sounds of moving chairs and russelling clothing quited, sipping a cool green wine from the highlands of the Southern Harp. He then turned and strode towards the foot of the table where his son and nephew sat. He eyed the rends and holes in their clothing and armor and then raised an inquiring eyebrow at his son.

"We're fine, Father.", Velvi'dar replied. He fingered the large hole in his shirt, just to the left of his heart, "Though we would have not survived without the Unizar Brothers."

"And your forces?", Kazryn inquired, glancing at his nephew.

"Still camped just inside the Empires borders, just to the north of the Great Kalis Wood, Uncle.", Vyrr'vic replied. "The Elves wont cross the border. Not unless they want every soldier in the Western Eros and the Souther Harp marching on Crossriver."

Kasryn turned and moved back towards the head of the table, where his seat was, though he didnt sit, just rested his hand on the back of his chair. He looked to the Unizar brothers, sitting on the west side of the table. Shazer'sal glanced at his brother, who would normally do most of the talking, but Valruuk was staring off into nothingness, looking sullen and irate.

"We dont know much, your Majesty.", Sal offered. He pointed to a large stack of scrolls and paperwork in from of him and his twin brother. "We confiscated this from the elves command tent. They used something called a "Stone Gate" to move their forces into the Great Kalis Wood without our knowing, thought they left no evidence of what this Stone Gate is. They have been getting their information on the boys whereabouts from something they called 'The Grinishir', which apparantly speaks to certain elves in their dreams."

Kazryn's eyes narrowed, "This Grinishir....what do we know about it?" He glanced at Valruuk, then turned back to Shazer'sal.

"Nothing.", was Sal's curt reply.

"The Ashdari tribesfolk of the central plains worship a great beetle called The Grinishir." Kari offered. She sat next to her husband Zaithan on the east side of the table. "They believe the world is the great dung ball rolled through the universe by this great dung beetle."

"Grinishir is the giant word for Dire Elk." Zaithan added.

"Milk." Valrruk spat the word out. "Grinishir is a sweet bluish milk produced by a creature called a Trodolok. It's a kind of extraplanar cow native to Elysium."

"Are the three of you attempting to tell me that my son and my nephew are being stalked by either a fictitious beetle, an overgrown moose, or a glass of milk?" Kazryn made no effort to hide his irritation at their offerings. "Or are you atempting to be amusing."

Paelleon rose from his seat and moved to the back of the room to pour himself a glass of wine. "Well, lacking more reliable information, we can start by looking for creatures or individuals connected to the Ashdari, giants, and/or Elysium with abilities or reputations concerning dreams and dream communication."

Thesaad shook his head, "While the Ashdari is a fairly narrow subject to research, 'giants' encompasses dozens of races and hundreds of tribes across the three worlds and 'Elysium' is an entire plane of existance. We need a way to narrow those down a bit."

"Who, among the enemies of the empire, has strong ties to Elysium, giants, or tribesfolk of the central planes?" inquired Zaithan. "Also elves and possibly demons and slaad."

"I assume", Kari interjected, "that everyone present has noticed that all three attacks on the Empire today were attempted by creatures prone to Chaos and disorder."

"I had noticed that.", Kazryn commented, walking back to the balcony and staring out over his Capitol. "I also noticed that they run the gamut of being loyal to chaotic ideals. Noble elves, pure slaad, and vile demons. I cant imagine elves working in tandem with demons. At least not knowingly."

"Are we certain the three attacks are connected?" asked Vyrr'vic.

"It does seem to be a bit of a stretch to call them mere coicidence.", Velvi'dar answered. "But what was the goal? None of the forces were large enough to do the empire serious harm."

Paelleon resumed his seat, wine in hand. "Testing the strength of the empire, I would assume. Probing to see how our forces react."

Kazryn stared out the doors to the balcony as the conversation continued behind him. His councelors kept the conversation moving, offering suggestions and opinions, searching for ways to narrow their search for a the root of todays events. To the east, the sky was lightnening further, the dark of night gradulaing becoming a paler and paler blue as he looked toward the horizon. His mind whirled through the little information they had.

1. Three seperate forces attack simultaneously three seperate locations.

2. All forces adhere to ideologies or predispositions of chaos and freedom.

3. No force was large enough to due lasting damage to the empire as a whole, but each was large enough to accomplish their objective, so Castle Arcanthus, Sulisturn, and the Kalis Wood weren't the end game. The Empire could absorb those losses easily.

Those and a dozen other thoughts spun around Kazryn's head. The conversation going on behind him had moved to determining whether they should reinforce the attacked locations and start searching for what might connect them. Kazryn's whirled around, his eyes seeking out the one person in the room whose intellect was equal to his own. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to show a pattern, and he latched onto it. He raised a quizical eyebrow at Kari. She stared back for a moment, then nodded, letting him know that she had reached the same conclusion.

It's us.", Kazryn said loudly, cutting off the conversation. The others stopped and looked at the Emperor. "This isnt aimed at the Empire. It's aimed at us. The people in this room. Or some of them anyway."

Shazer'sal's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you sure Kaz?"

"Yes." The Emperor answered. "Neither Sulisturn nor the Kalis Wood are technically part of the Empire. The elves were clearly aimed at the boys, and Bazam-Gorag leading the attack at Castle Arcanthus is a clear indication that that was aimed at either Zaithan or Kari..or both. There is no reason for anyone to summon forth a small army of Demons to attack a town like Sulisturn. No reason, except that that is were Paelleon was. This isnt about the Empire, or our plans to expand south, or our borders with Crossriver and Enchantrisal."

Kazryn look around the room, meeting the eyes of each of his advisors. "Someone or something is testing us."

Suddenly, a thunderous booming sound rumbled through the air. The sound was accompanied by a vibration that rattled its way through the stone of the palace. Vyrr'ic stood so swiftly that his chair was launched backwards away from him. He pointed out the balcony doors. "What in the Nine Hells is that!" he exclaimed.

Everyone turned and looked out over the balcony. Just east of the city, high in the air, an enormous ball of writhing black clouds had appeared. The black clouds stood out starkly in the dawn sky, boiling and bubbling angrily. Kazryn and all of his advisors step out onto the balcony. As they watched, the mass of dark clouds suddenly expanded outward, forming a massive torus or ring of shadowy clouds. In the center of that ring was a calm, flat blackness. The ring was enormous, blotting out the sky for more than a mile in every direction from the center of the ring.

"Does anyone have any idea what....."Kazryn began, but then stopped as something began to emerge from the darkness in the center of the ring. Something massive.

It slid out of the darkness slowly, a dark grey stone wall resting atop a bed of whirling and writhing shadows. As more and more of the mass emerged, it became clear that they were looking at the walls of an extremely large keep, or a those of a small city. A city flying in the air and emerging from nothingness.

A blast of intense heat rolled across those on the balcony from behind them. Kazryn turned to see Valruuk, his entire body wreathed in Hellfire, staring up at the floating city with rage and hate in his eyes. "They attack us, they attack our Empire....." Valruuk was muttering to himself through clenched teeth. "I'll char their souls to useless ash..." Kazryn was shocked at Valruuk's violent reaction.

"Val, what has gotten into you?" Kazryn shouted.

"Calm yourself, Devilspawn." Zaithan interjected, wrapping his arm around his wife's waist as they watched they flying city emerge for its shadow-portal. "We aren't under attack. That is just our brother."

Paelleon turned to the pair of them. "Your brother? The Duskwalker? Are your sure?"

Kari smiled, "Yes, were sure. That is the City of Obtenebrae. The City of the Duskwalker. He's coming for a visit."

Kasryn turned on the two of them. "Any what, exactly, are his intentions for this visit?", he asked coldly. "And more importantly, why wasnt I informed a FLYING CITY WOULD BE APPEARING OVER MY CAPITOL!", he shouted.

Zaithan's eyes narrowed, but Kari forstalled his answer with a raised hand. "We didn't know he would be bringing the whole city, your Majesty.", she replied calmly but firmly. "And Derrik answers to no one. Not even us. As to his intentions, " She continued, "I couldnt begin to guess, though I can garauntee he wont be attacking the city or the Empire."

If you cant guess his intentions", Thesaad asked, "how can you gaurantee that?"

"The same way His Majesty can garauntee the devilspawn standing next to you wont make a play for your soul.", Zaithan replied. "Derrik would never attack Kari or my powerbase."

Kazryn spun and pointed up at the city still emerging from the shadow-portal. "I know a powerplay when I see one, Kari. I want to know why he's playing one on my city.
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Derrik watched the exchange from deep within the shadows of the room. As soon as the city had begun moving through the portal, he had had his Shadow Double take over the city's motion while he came here. It was always so satisfying to get reactions to his work first hand.

Those reactions had largely been exactly as he had thought they would, all except for the teifling. That ones heated rage had been in direct opposition to the little Derrik new about the normally cool and collected Valruuk Unizar. Well, he ceratinly wasnt going to concern himself with the rage of one foolish enough to sell his soul to the Hells.

The conversation had moved on, with Kari now reminding the Emperor that if Derrik had wanted Empire, he would have objected to Sierra naming Kazryn as her heir in the first place. It was mostly true, if ruling Lark had been his desire, it would have been his. Of course, His sister was not pointing out Obtenebrae suddenly appearing over the Capitol was a not-so-subtle reminder of this fact, but Kazryn had likely already come to that conclusion.

The other teifling, Shazer'sal, was standing in Derrik's view of the Emperor, so he shifted to the left to get a better view of Lark's rulers face. Casually....almost too casually, Shazer'sal walked a couple paces to his right, stopping right in Derrik's line of sight again. Derrik caught those disturbing red eyes, peaking out from under a fedora, watching him. It shouldn't be possible. No one in the room should be able to see him this deep in the Shadow, yet there the soulless assassin was, watching him. Diseccting him with its infernal devil eyes. And keeping himself between Derrik and the Emperor. Interesting. It's likely found a way to tell the Emperor that I'm here, Derrik thought to himself.

He had no more thought it, than suddenly Kazryn turned and spoke to the shadows in Derrik's direction. "Welcome to Lark, Duskwalker. If I had known you were coming, I could have had prepared a proper welcome for such a distinquished visitor."

Derrik sighed and stepped out of the Shadow. "Lark was my home a thousand years before your birth, your Majesty. I'm hardly a visitor." HIs sudden appearance seemed to startle everyone in the room except his sibling, the teiflings, and the Emperor.

"That Lark you lived in is no more, Duskwalker.", Kazryn replied. "I'm welcoming you to the new Lark, risen glorious from the ashes of the old."

"How poetic." Derrik smirked. "I've come to show the fruits of my labor to my brother and sister, your Majesty. I'd be honored give you a tour of the City of Obtenebrae as well, if you would like."

"I would be very interested in witnessing this.....wonder...you have created, but my advisors and I have important matters to attend. Perhaps we could arragne a tour another time." Kazryn replied.

"I'm sure we can, your Majesty. We'll be here for a few days."

"We're not going to get any further with this this morning, your Majesty.", Kari responded. It might be best if we adjourned, rested, and pursued those avenues of inquiry we have already opened."

Shazer'sal nodded. "I agree, Kaz. We need to get out and get more information on who and what is targeting us and why before we can decide anything else."

Kazryn glanced around the room, collecting nods from everyone present. "Fine. We'll convene again at midnight tomorrow and see what each of us has uncovered."
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EPILOGUE
The Cathedral of Nine Flames
Lark
Empire of Lark

Valruuk stalked down the stairs of the Cathedral, heading to his private apartments deep under the basements. He glowered at anyone he passed, forestalling any attempt to converse with him. Idiots...all of them...idiots. It pissed him off, the stupidity of it all. Letting that smug shadow conjurer park his flying monstrosity this close to the city. Adjourning the council meeting so everyone could pursue the few leads they have instead of staying and working out more. Why was everyone so irritating today? And why the hell was everyone acting like it was he who was in the wrong.

As he walked, he relaxed his hold on his more human looking form and allowed himself to shift back to his natural form. Thick hair sprouted from his legs and cloven hooves replaced his feet. The small horns protruding from his forehead grew longer and thicker, curling back over his ears and than forward again, like a rams.
He strode into his quarters, kicking over a chair in frustration, and began divesting himself of his combat gear, preparing to rest and meditate to regain his spells. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he caught sight of something odd in the standing mirror in the corner. He walked over to the mirror and stared at his chest. Splayed across his torso was a mass of lines, jagged and irregular. He had seen the like before, called fractal scarring. It was sometimes the result of being struck by lightning or powerful electric spells and allowing the damage to heal naturally. He ran his hand over the lines, feeling the slightly raised scars under his fingers. He couldnt remember the last time he had been struck by powerful electricity attacks and knew for a fact that he had never suffered such an attack that hadn't been healed magically.

Where had these come from. What are they, he starred into the mirror, feeling his confusion and anger build. Something was very wrong. He didnt know what, he didnt know who, but someone was going to pay. He didnt recall what they were paying for, but as he starred longer at the crazy jumble of scars on his chest, it seemed to matter less and less. Making people pay would be enough for now. He began laughing, watching his hands move over the scars across his stomach and chest. Yes, people were going to pay.

[b]END OF CHAPTER TEN
END OF ACT ONE: THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT[/b]

coming soon(ish)
CHAOS THEORY
ACT TWO: FRACTALS