Chronicles of the World of DaoTyr

The warforged paladin, Aradhel entered the newly rebuilt throne room of King Brogan VIII, King of the Theriol, for the first time on the Summer Solstice of the year 1164 in the seventh aepoch of Dao Tyr. He was summoned by his lord, the archangel Firestar, Raziel – patron angel of Theriol. An astromantic alignment was about to occur and thus the Firestar called on his ancient knight. Aradhel would then return, to the world, from beneath the earth mound where the machine-man  had spent the past four hundred years, under two hundred fathoms of water in a lake that was once Purdjion – the land of angels and devils that he him self had surrendered to the purifying water.

“Welcome Lord Aradhel.” King Brogan greeted him at the door and shook his hand with earnest. Aradhel did not speak. He did however, turn and recognize the power emanating from another in the room – a women, dressed in black, with a raven on her shoulder and a brass crown on her brow. She was standing in the window archway, the fading sun bathing her black robes in gold. Brogan noticed the knight staring at her, smiled and said rather nonchalantly, “Yes my lord, goddesses seem to be common of late.” Stepping across the room toward the women “Sir Aradhel, may I present the Avatar Uthia, Lady of the Raven queen, voice-mother of the Firestar.”

Aradhel bowed, as did the Raven Queen.

Gliding over to the knight who had met her halfway into the throne room, the Raven Queen touched Aradhel’s metal face. “Brave immortal Aradhel. I’ve been dreaming with you under that lake, all this while. Waiting for this day. This day that will challenge your perfect faith and test the nature of your soul.” A tear formed in her eye and fell down her cheek. “I ask you today, the most terrible thing a mother could ever ask. I ask you today to perform an act that may just condemn me to an eternity of sorrow, an eternity of remorse.” Pausing, Aradhel could see her take a deep breath as she took both of his massive, guantleted hands in hers. “It has taken me a thousand years, but I now know that my youngest daughter, born Tiama, now called Tiamat, is beyond redemption. I need you to end her. I need to ask the left fist of my son to kill my youngest daughter.”

A vacuous silence filled the room. Brogan, standing behind Aradhel, scratching his chin spoke first. “We have a chance we will never have again Sir Aradhel. We have learned that Tiamat will be, in body, at the Red Tower of Hurthiric in one week’s time. We have devices. We have a plan. Our strategy is set. The party that is going to perform that act, well, that is another question…”

The Raven Queen continued “The good king of men, here, speaks as all good kings do – conspiring for the good of his people. My plans are not so selfless, and indeed, I can not share them with you. I can only ask that you maintain your faith with me, with my family, in this duty, this final, mortal duty.” Aradhel nodded slowly and then got on one knee. The Raven Queen put her hands on his shoulders and continued. “You are so brave, although I doubt that you can feel fear. You will be teamed up with those who are seemingly diametric in alignment to your noble cause. You will be tested further. Your faith in me, in my eyes, Aradhel, is all you must trust.”

Aradhel raised his head and looked into the infinite eyes of the Raven Queen and spoke for the first time in half a century. His voice sounded like the strong wind resonating through the hollow of an ancient oak. “My comrades are my weapons, and I am their shield. I pledge this, that if I can prevent it, They shall not parish. So long as they live, our enemies will fall. I am the righteous, left fist of Raziel, the Firestar. Though tainted I may be…I am the toppled pillar newly erected; called forth to purify in holy flame all that which is vile, corrupted and debased. To burn the wicked and tyrannical who oppress and subjugate the innocent. And to imbue the righteous light to those that find themselves in dark places.”

The Raven Queen wrapped her arms around his large helmet of a head. “Oh my dear. I am too close to you see your fate.” She kissed his brow. “Good luck to you.” She kissed him again, another tear ran down her cheek. She the turned and glided to the shadow where she was gone in a breath. The vacuous silence returned to the throne room as Brogan, nodding to the ancient knight, turned and left him there to sit and ponder.

This entry was posted on April 26, 2013 at 6:01 pm and is filed under Innien, the Archfey, The Hunt of Tiamat. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.