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The young king and the queen of spiders

Posted in Innien, the Archfey, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 25, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

“You have let your hair and beard grow, lover, over the year that you have been king of Theriol. I don’t like the way it feels against my cheek.” The dark elf slid off the white sheet and wrapped her thin scarf around her shoulder. King Brogan, already standing by the hearth, poured two glass of red wine. From the corner of his eye, he admired the contrast of her sleek, ink black skin against the soft folds of his linens.

“I don’t much care how you feel about the length of humanly birthright.” He swallowed the cup of wine in one large gulp.

The svelte, elven queen slid across the shadow filled space between the two with a whisper and placed her fingertip on his lips. “Such a beast”,” she whispered with a casual smile and kissed him lightly. Brogan let him self go, as he did so often of late, for just a moment, to the swoon of her charms. Then the darkness fell again across his heart and he face betrayed his will to keep it in. “I’ve known you for years Brogan, watched you for longer. You can’t hide anything from me, why do you try? Open up to me now, so soon after we have coupled. Let me in to the great leader’s mind.”

“I can never tell if you are mocking me.” Brogan pushed the drow away and filled his wine again. “There are those in my small council who would barely hesitate, for love of my father, that I was with you, night after night, time and time again. Damn it women, were I not beguiled by your love.” Brogan turned away and again, finished his wine.

Taking an exasperated deep breath, the drow took a step up to him and wrapped her thin arms around his waist, feeling the taught, mid-section muscles above his belt of a human man in the prime of his young life. She wondered to herself for a moment if it was not her that was beguiled by him – although for the drow, she was at least as attracted to the power that Brogan held, more so than any measure of genuine affection. She traced the length of his arms, and as she did her finger tips left trails of glowing ruins that quickly burned away when Brogan turned to look.

“My love, we have just begun our journey down this road together.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, talking into his shoulder blades as he stared into the black. “I am ready to tell you a secret…My lord Brogan, I’ve never told you my name, and now, I am ready. By me giving you this, my name, shall a new chapter of our relationship be open. By me sharing this with you…By me giving this dark gift to you, shall your power grow.”

Brogan turned and looked into the dark pools of her eyes, lost and found, searching for answers and finding further confusion. “But, as you’ve said, I’ve known you my whole life. I see you in my dreams. You are the dark, clear, spring water under the earth. You are the curtain of the seducing night, cold and fierce. You are the moon, full of magic and brilliant calling. You name is the wind. You are a priestess queen of the fay.”

“My lord,” she whispered, her eyes alive with intense power, she turned he man toward her and spoke with a resonance that belied her tiny frame. “My people, my children, call me by title, a name older than all the cities of men. A priestess? No, Lord Brogan. I am the target of their prayers.” He gasped as he realized the next words that were going to fall from her mouth. “Llolth. My name is Llolth.”

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The Gherivon

Posted in Ancient Lands, Dragons, Maiah, Primordial Aepoch, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 24, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

“And since I got back, I’ve barely slept a night all the way through.” The old elf wizard sat on the small stool, staring at the swirling tea leaves in his steaming mug.

“Well, from the sound of it, it is lucky you got back at all.” The human ranger took a deep breath and poured a bit of whiskey from his flask into his own cup of tea. “How many did you say there were? Six?” Tim looked up from his mug at Thaylinn, who was staring out the cabin window at the setting sun beyond the lake. The elf nodded. “Well, as you know, old friend, I was trapped in the Abyss for many years. It is all kind of fading from memory. I did not do much battle there. I mean, yeah, I was tortured and stuff, but I was hooded most of the time and pain fades from memory.”

“I know Tim, and I am glad your soul is intact. We all are. The Dreamwater needs its Sherriff. Technically, I was never actually in the Abyss. Those six succubi were the last enemy to face us in a final battle at the Dawn of Time. And although I was the only one in my party to survive the trip back here to the Dreamwater, my soul is broken. Rhoen, Lagozed, and dear sweet Aelar, all dead…Lost in time.” Thaylinn reached into a fold of his gray robe and pulled out a fist-sized bundle wrapped in leather. “I grabbed this, the meaning of our ill-fated quest, before I saw the time portal and my friends, collapse into the void.” Thaylinn took the whiskey flask from Tim and spiked his own drink, took a slow sip and then began to unwrap the object on the table.

The object glowed from within, a deep opalescent radiance that transcended anything from nature. Tim could recognize this as an object of deep, ancient magic, possibly druidic, possibly even proto-druid. “50,000 years” Thaylinn whispered. “Across many oceans of time. Behold. The Gherivon.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Mighty name. I’ve heard of it before. Penelius told me once of a world-ruining device by that name. We were talking at one point about going to get it ourselves. That is what you were doing? How long have you had this thing?”

“Nearly twenty years Tim. I’ve kept it here, in Maiah, safe. But that time is done Tim. I can’t keep it anymore. I am departing to the West and where I am going, this can not come.”

“Oh lord, you’re giving it to me, ain’tcha?” Tim’s drawl always brought a smile to Thaylinn’s face. Tim sighed again and pulled an herbal cigarette from his belt, lit it and continued. “I’ve had many experiences with old, powerful weapons. Hell, I threw on of the Swords of Doom into that lake right there. (see Ethilistyr) Shall we do that with this?”

“No, afraid not old friend. That won’t keep it safe. Tim, listen to me. I need you to take this thing far away. You are the only one who can do this. The Gherivon needs to be taken to my younger sister, Safein, to the land I am from: Theriol.”

“Wait. Hold up. You want me to walk, because I don’t know how else to get there, across the whole of Dao Tyr to give this little rock to your kid sister?”

“Well that is the long and the short of it, I suppose.”

“Thaylinn, that is going to take me twenty years to walk that distance.” The elf had nothing to say at that. Tim sat with his mouth agape. “This will be the last thing I do with my life. You know that I am an old man too, right?”

“I wouldn’t ask unless I was certain there was no other way. I believe that there is great fate left in this object Tim and I believe you, and my sister, have some great roll to play still. I can discern the stars aligning in a particular way. Please Tim, do this.”

“Okay, I guess. I’ll grab my boots.” Tim stood, extinguished his cigarette and finished the whiskey.

“Just like that? you are leaving now? Humans are astonishing”

“Yeah, just like that. There is only one way to start a long journey, and that’s to start it. Tell me though, Thaylinn…” Tim paused, lacing up his boots. “What can this thing do?”

“Well, for one, I can tell you that the power in this thing can ground any dragon.”

“Any dragon?”

“Any dragon.”

“Well hell, okay then. It just might come in handy. I think I’ll wear it as a belt buckle.”

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Aradhel, the Fist of Raziel

Posted in Innien, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 20, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

Aradhel was the first warforged – constructed in old Puriol over one thousand years ago. A paladin by calling, not by design, Aradhel is the servant fist of the Archangel Raziel, a patron spirit of Theriol. He returns from beyond the mist to join the effort to smite the dragon goddess Tiamat.

The statue of Raziel in the main square of the City of Theriol.

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Safein the Archdruid

Posted in Innien, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 20, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

Safein the Archdruid – imbued with the ancient, trusted magic of both the humans and the elves of Theriol, Safein carries with her the hope and the doom of her people should she fail against the Dragon Goddess Tiamat.

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Tim, The Sherriff of the Dreamwater

Posted in Innien, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 20, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

Tim has battled many great powers in his long life. He has battled the Avatar of Baphomet in the skull of a titan. He has battled the archlich Lesivith for the soul of his realm. He has battled Dorseen of Orcus after being inprisoned in Hell. He has even traveled back in time to the founding of old Kepathia and witnessed the marriage of Tiamat and Bahamut, long before the Tearing. After journeying to the Astral Tower he learned, that, upon returning, he does not age as normal men. Now, nearly 150 years old, Tim still looks like he is in his late fifties. Twenty years ago he started walking to Innien from Gavin Wel. He has just learned it is to be part of the Team to hunt Tiamat, the evil dragon goddess herself.

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Jorogumo “Spider Courtesan” – Drow Assassin, Soul Thief, Perfect Slayer

Posted in Dragons, Innien, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 20, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

Trained from birth by a cult dedicated to Lolth’s ascendency over all other evil gods, Jorogumo broke from her destined path to become a highly paid assassin. Her ability with poisoned Spiderkissed Fullblade is renowned by those who’s business is murder. As she ascends to epic status, doubt in her singular motivation to acquire wealth with her skills has lead her to wonder… could she kill a god, as she was trained to, so long ago?

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Oromo, Order of the Ancient Dawn, General Oromo

Posted in Dragons, Innien, The Dragongods, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 20, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

Oromo has glinting amber-eyes. Despite his waning age, the dusky old man has bulging, sinewy muscles under his leathery exterior, with faded diamond-patterned tattoos along his arms, neck, and torso. He wears an overlapping patchwork of black and gold dragon scale armor beneath a black silk robe, embroidered with gold luminous suns and giant dragons. A thick, dark metallic torc surrounds his neck, where a two-headed snake eats a giant ruby. Never far, is his massive golden sword he calls, the Dawnbringer, that looks even too heavy for him to carry. He claims to be a widower, though no one remembers his youth. He claims to be and a member of the Order of the Ancient Dawn, though no one has ever heard of the order, know anything of its history, or seen any other members. A veteran of many wars, no one seems to have heard of, he is a proficient battle general, master tactician, and charismatic motivator. He claims to have held a small fort with 10 men against 500 for a month. When at rest on the road, he can often be found sharing battle stories by the fire or in his tent doing calligraphy, writing endless arcane tessellated patterns on large scrolls of parchment.

The mythic blade, The Dawnbringer, was forged in aeons past by servants of the Wyrm Lords. It is believed to be pure meteoric iron forged under the withering heat of the Gold Dragon breath weapon belonging to the legendary wyrm Geldor Gangringax some 4000 years ago. It is a sword so massive that it requires a 30 strength to even wield. It has a flame-like wave pattern in the steel and a rare golden color. The weapon is magically indestructible.

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Aela the Harvester

Posted in Dragons, Innien, Lands of the East, The Hunt of Tiamat on April 20, 2013 by coyoteandthunder

Aela served for thousands of years in the five levels of heaven. She served the Demigod, Alablyss, Lord of Redemption. Aela’s purpose was to seek out those souls in the material plane who had turned from the darkness and lead lives of goodness and piety. She would observe from the heavens and travel to the world of the mortals and shuffle the souls of the worthy up to their heavenly home at the point of death, wrapping their souls in a golden cloak and delivering them like newborn babes into the heavenly pleasures that awaited.

However over time, she grew disdainful of her position and of the many heavens themselves. Though she worked tirelessly she never saw respite. She was never allowed to take part in the pleasures that were bestowed upon the souls she delivered. For all her hard work she could never rise to the highest planes of heaven where the greatest pleasures awaited. She was condemned to serve the rest of eternity in the second level of heaven.

The demon lord Chathivus, lord of Corruption, learned of Aela’s dissatisfaction and paid a visit to her as she traveled to the plane of mortals. He offered her a place with his cohort in hell. Of course her initial reaction was revulsion, but Chathivus’ words were like sugar. Sweet and tempting. He continued to visit Aela, and she continued to turn him down but each time she listened longer and considered more. Eventually Chathivus asked her why she would not join him in hell. She was clearly unhappy, and could never become anything more than she was already in heaven. But in hell she could be so much more. She would start in the first levels of hell, but hard work and persistence was rewarded, unlike in the heavens. She could move to the deeper and deeper levels of hell, gaining more power and prestige. She could have her own cohort and rule over them and the souls they gathered. But she refused. She would never turn away from goodness to join evil, to which Chathivus laughed.

“Do you really think us evil!? What do you think it is we do in hell?”

“You sow hate and death and darkness across the many planes of existence. Yours are the ways of pure evil and I could never be a part of that.”

“How blinded you are from living so long in the light.” Chathivus told her, “There are no evil demons any more than there are any good angels. We simply are. The difference is that heaven accepts only the pure and pious. They are treated like kings and you are their servants. But in hell we gather the wicked, the murderous and truly black hearted scum of the worlds. And it’s not because we want to serve them and offer them rewards. We punish them for their misdeeds. We flay the rapists. Burn the murderers. They are our play things and we do with them as we please. We do not bow to them. They bow to us.”

After that Aela was convinced. She joined Chathivus, though he was not entirely sincere. Hell is well and truly a dark and evil place, and while the demons do not serve the souls they harvest, they serve other powers, and their torture of the damned is not for any sense of justice, but rather to fulfill the dark desires of the dark gods and demons that fester in the seven layers of hell.

But it was too late. Aela was corrupted. She turned her back on Alablyss and never returned to heaven. Nor could she once she had joined the forces of hell. She was tainted and could never return. But by then she did not care. Her new position was very similar to her last, but now she sought the souls of those who had wickedness and sin in their hearts. Her golden cloak was reforged into a cythe, with which she carved the souls out of the wicked. Her pure white wings and golden hair turned to black. Her golden eyes burned red with the flames of hell.

Aela gave herself completely to her new position and moved up the ranks of Chathivus’ cohort quickly. She experienced all that the many levels of hell had to offer. She wore masks of flesh at the masquerade ball of Galbinus, the demon lord of Debauchery and Butchery. She learned from Heshkinah, demoness lady of sadism, how to wield hellfire so that it could both burn and simultaneously heal, creating a nonlethal flame of eternal torture. She bathed in the molten crystalline sea of shattered souls.

After tens of thousands of years in hell, Aela could barely remember her life in Heaven. She had given herself completely to the corruption. Only her stark white skin remained as an unchangable reminder of her true origin. As the new rising dark star of hell Aela was choosen by Belial in a wager against the Archangel Raziel. The two had wagered that their champion could collect a million souls before the other. Rules were set in place. Aela could only gather the souls of those already corrupted by darkness: Murderers, rapists, thieves and all those who had already brought the darkness into their souls. While Neru, Aela’s replacement in the Heaven’s, could only gather the souls of the pious and good. With all the wars raging, it seemed a simple task for Aela, but at the start of the wager a new era of peace and prosperity was ushered in. Religious zealotry have Neru a quick lead and caused Aela to struggle early on. But for hundreds of years they gathered souls where they could until it became clear that Neru would win.

Battles between Theriol and Hurthiric provided Aela with a great source of souls, but not nearly enough. Belial had promised her that if she won this wager for him that a lordship would be granted to her. She would be the Lady of Death and free of Chathivus’ cohort and free to form her own. But unbeknownst to her is the winnings wagered between Belial and Raziell. The loser’s layer of respective heaven or hell is annexed to the other. So angels and demons watch with bated breath to see where their allegiance and realms may fall to.

The turning point for Aela is in sight. It is well documented that one soul is not worth the same as the next. The soul of a king is worth that of 500 farmers. A warrior is worth a dozen miners. But the soul of a Dragon God is worth a billion common souls. With one swift stroke, Aela can end this wager and return to hell a champion. But along the way she must continue to harvest the souls of every killer and criminal she encounters, for if she were to fail (and somehow live) the wager will not end and the time she spent pursuing Tiamat cannot have been in vain.

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