Heady with exhilaration and ambition -- Orsino, rightful Ivid VIII -- prepares to kill some River Drakes while setting up the Vampire Baron Thelly over Bluelode for a boon (shared with his allies) he will ask from Malvolio.
Lightheaded thinking about Whelm ;... Blackrazor ;... The Sword of Kas ;... The Hand, The Eye, & The Ear of Vecna ;... Moil ;... Acererak ;... Lord Drax The Invulnerable ;... Sigil Factols and entire armies ;... even Iuz,....
And Orsino smiles in confidence playing this game of Power for The Flanaess,
Dusk, Waterday 12th of Flocktime, shortly after the evening meal, down in the torchlit donjon below the Royal Palace in Rel Mord ....
The Royal Palace seems almost empty to Her Sublime Majesty, Xenia Sallavarian, Queen of Nyrond. Her husband, the King of Nyrond, Lynwerd I of House Nehron, had departed on the previous morning, riding out of the city at the head of the great Nyrondal Army, accompanied by his three stalwart generals--Hanshal, Myariken, and Younard--and such renowned Nyrondese heroes as Duchess of Woodverge Verin Talnith of House Orberend, and the new Duke Vardushi of Korenflass. They marched west to succor Chendl, capital of the Kingdom of Furyondy, which was in imminent peril of being besieged by the forces of the cambion demigod Iuz.
Queen Xenia had been left behind in Rel Mord to rule Nyrond in Lynwerd's absence, and to care for their young daughter, the 5-year-old Princess Archarzi. They were under the considerable protection of no less a personage than the Grey Seer, venerable court diviner and advisor to the royal court of Nyrond going back several kings at this point. Though the ancient wizard at times seemed feeble with age and occasionally bewildered by encroaching senility, his protection was a great comfort to the queen, for there could be no doubt that he was a mighty archmage. He cast Mordenkainen's magnificent mansion within her private chambers each morning, providing a safe haven in case her safety or that of little Archarzi was threatened.
Pale and beautiful, with a flawless lily-white complexion, sky-blue eyes that gleamed with brilliant intellect, high cheekbones and rosebud lips, and straight, silken, snow-white hair that falls in a luxurious cascade past her shoulders to drape her white breasts, none are the least surprised that King Lynwerd is so completely smitten by the Suloise noblewoman from Urnst. Sallavarian is a House Maure merchant noble house of Urnst, and Xenia is distant cousin of the famed archmage Jallarzi Sallavarian of Greyhawk's Circle of Eight, and also cousin of Duke Palatine Karll Lorinar of Urnst. She herself is a potent wizard, capable of casting spells of the 6th order, and is well equipped with magic items, scrolls, and several wands.
The White Queen descends into the dank lower levels of the donjon beneath the Royal Palace, passing through chambers where the various torture devices--gibbets, stretching racks, strappados, iron maidens, whipping posts, iron chairs, etc.--were MOSTLY just for show, and coated with thin layers of dusty cobwebs from long disuse. She examined some of the gruesome devices with a morbid curiosity that ran in her Maure blood. Many of her ancestors had been cruel, amoral sadists, nihilists, and megalomaniacs, but Xenia came from a more benign and less debauched branch of the Maure tree.
She drew near the place that had half-consciously called to her after dinner--the oubliette ("place of forgetting" or "place of the forgotten"). From the darkness ahead echoed a muffled moan of misery. She cast the cantrip light, illuminating the darkness where torches had ceased to gutter in sconces to light the hewn stone corridor lined with grottoes and cells. Closer now, another dolorous moan, muffled and slightly metallic .... Xenia's jaw tightened, the cords on her pale throat standing out, her pale brow knitted in determination and growing ire ....
In the damp and utter darkness of the oubliette huddled the green hag illusionist Black Betty, last surviving witch of the Gnatmarsh hags' coven after her "sisters" and "foster sons" had been slain by the powerful evocations of the Grey Seer on the road between Rel Mord and the Gnatmarsh. Her fingers were hampered by finger irons and her wrists bound together with cold iron manacles, which prevented the somatic components of spell-casting, but still allowed her to awkwardly scrawl messages on a slate board with a lump of chalk. This was necessary for her to communicate, for she was gagged by a cold iron scold's bridle that covered her face in a ghastly metallic mask, an uncomfortable cone of cold iron inserted into her gaping jaws that often gagged her and caused perpetual drooling. It was only removed by her gaolers twice per day--at dawn for breakfast, and just before dusk for supper--during which times a paladin swordsman or swordswoman of Heironeous was on hand with sword blade poised to smite her head from her neck should she speak a single word of an arcane incantation or a witch's hex.
She squinted painfully at the bright globe of pale magical light that radiated from the end of a silvery greater metamagic rod of quicken held forth like a torch by the slim and graceful feminine form that approached, brow crowned with glittering coronet and orbited by a trio of slightly luminous ioun stones, each a different color and shape, gossamer gown of silvery white silk fluttering in the damp subterranean drafts that endlessly circulated through the donjon levels .... The dolorous, piteous misery in the hag's black eyes was evident to the White Queen of Nyrond, and unmistakably genuine. There was no need for Black Betty to feign any greater pathos than she sincerely felt, languishing in despair, forgotten in the damp, rat-infested oubliette. She gave utterance to a stifled, mournful groan fraught with wretchedness and pleading, mixed with a slight metallic rattle of the cold iron bridle vibrating uncomfortably in her aching mouth: "GNUUUGHHHNN!"
"Do not look for sympathy here, Hag of the Gnatmarsh and Spawn-Mother of Viper Broods! .... Why should I pity you, the author of my darkest nightmares, and mother of the gnat that vexes me so? Forsooth, why on Oerth should I suffer you to live another minute, you worm-tongued spinner of webs and sower of blight!? .... Why shouldn't I command my guards to drag you up and out onto the City Square, chain you to a stake atop a pile of kindling, and watch you burn!? Why!?' Xenia's blue eyes blazed with a fury bordering on the malevolence of her ancient Maure ancestors as she glowered at Black Betty, the green hag who'd enchanted, drugged, and seduced her beloved Lynwerd a decade ago and raped him, conceiving a no doubt grotesque changeling bastard son that now haunted her nightmares and vexed her daily thoughts. Would he try to usurp the throne of Nyrond as his evil uncle Sewarndt had only five years ago? Sewarndt had been slain at the gates of Rel Mord by Lynwerd in 595 CY, bringing his insurrection to an end. But it had been a grim reminder of the fragility of the social hierarchy, and the constant possibility of usurpers, pretenders, and would-be conquerors. But she could endure loss of sovereignty; what she could not bear, as a loving mother, would be if her dear little Archarzi were harmed, abducted, or--Wee Jas forbid it!--assassinated by the brutish bastard changeling known as Grimaldi ....
Black Betty at once scrawled a message on her slate board with her lump of chalk, and held it forth for the fair young Queen of Nyrond to read by her magical light cantrip:
"T'would be tragic folly for ye to burn me, My Sweet and Fair Young Queen of Nyrond. And most uncharitable of one who claims such quaint notions as yer precious chivalry, honor, and clemency, which ye 'n yer ilk moon on 'n on about, wouldn't it? After all, I'm but a lowly, helpless, pitiful old crone, bereft of me sisters and me poor, sweet Wamba and Lamb .... Murdered like dogs in the road by th'old geezer ye call the Grey Seer .... Would ye kill a harmless old crone out of petty spite? What, be ye jealous of scrawny, ancient, ugly old Black Betty?"
Queen Xenia finished reading the hag's hastily scrawled message and scoffed, "Jealous of you?? Lunacy! But I do feel it would be best to purge your wickedness from Oerth once and for all, Mother of Gnats! You and your wretched kind have always been a plague upon the goodly folk of Oerth. It would be a righteous deed to snuff out your evil forevermore, Black Betty of Gnatmarsh. And likewise, the misbegotten spawn of your rotten loins, the bastard son of my sweet, beleaguered King Lynwerd .... the recent revelation of whose existence has so spoiled my marital bliss and joy in my young daughter .... How long before your black-hearted spawn creeps into the Royal Palace to thrust dagger into my heart, or worse, to harm even a single blessed hair on the head of my precious little daughter!? Aye, hag?? Answer me that!!"
Shaking her bedraggled head in objection, Black Betty erased her previous message from her slate board and began to scrawl a reply, which she presently thrust toward Xenia into the glow of her light cantrip. Xenia quickly scanned the message, her reading comprehension being akin to that of the most savant sages and scribes throughout the Flanaess, with a near eidetic memory of any text she'd even casually perused ....
"Yer fears be quite understandable, Sweet Queen o' Nyrond, for me dear, precious boy, Grimaldi, is indeed a black-hearted and cunning rogue, every bit as clever as the most scheming of yer courtly ilk, me fair-hide Suelii Queen! But what sets me clever, han'some Grimmy aside from yer courtly lot is that his cunning and ambition are not hobbled as ye n' yer ilk are by such precious notions as chivalry, piety, and what ye call 'fair play' .... Nay, me Grimmy loves only one accursed thing in all the rotten Oerth--his dear, beloved mum! I be the only one in all o' the Great Wheel that he gives a lemure's turd about--pardon my vulgar ways, Yer Highness. If ye kill me, there'd be nothing stopping me boyo from unleashin' the fury o' the Abyss upon yer pretty head. An' not just ye, My Queen .... I weep fulsome tears o' grief to think that by killing little old me, ye'd also bring about--Oh, the irony! The bitter tragedy!--the senseless slaughter, and likely in the most painful and horrific o' manners, o' yer own precious wee bairn, the sweet little Princess o' Nyrond! Oh! Cegilune forbid it! I could'na bear it, My Queen!" Black Betty's jet-black eyes glittered with keen cunning and calculating malice as she returned the White Queen of Nyrond's icy glare. This was her best hope. Both Lynwerd (as a paladin) and Xenia (as a wizard) had indomitable wills and were very difficult to manipulate. But Lynwerd was like an adamantine wall, neither bending nor breaking. He would never succumb to her subtle and insidious manipulations. But Xenia .... She was not so rigid in her ideologies, not so bound by piety, honor, and sacred oaths to a lawful good deity (Heironeous) or duty to a kingdom inherited from a long line of his father's fathers. She might be somewhat more malleable than the bull-headed paladin king. She might be more pliable .... more susceptible to Black Betty's influence ....
"You DARE to threaten MY DAUGHTER!? .... Your worthless and miserable life hangs betwixt my thumb and index finger like a wriggling maggot over a fire pit, you poisonous Harlot of Abaddon!* Even if I should deign to spare your wretched life, at the very least, I ought to call my guards in this very instant to chop off both of your bony claws and cut out your worm-like tongue, which burrows into the hearts and brains of decent folk and spreads your blight and corruption! To do so would be a blessing to all the inhabitants of the Flanaess, who would never need fear your evil spells and profane hexes again, Hag!" The White Queen's ire had grown into a volcanic rancor worthy of the Suelli barbarians of the Schnai, Fruztii, and Cruskii tribes (or the Snow Barbarians, Frost Barbarians, and Ice Barbarians, respectively). She was just seconds away from calling out for her guards to seize the treacherous green hag and amputate both hands and cut out her evil tongue, when Black Betty hastily erased the previous message and scribbled out yet another ....
Having finished scribbling on her slate board a hasty retort, Black Betty presented it to the blazing blue eyes of the wrathful White Queen:
"My Dear, Sweet Queen, I'll put it plain to ye as I can: Ye need me alive, and what's more, ye need me able to speak with me own words to me dear, precious son, Grimaldi. If I have no tongue, I cannot speak to him on yer behalf, My Queen. An' if'n ye chop off me hands, or any other part o' old Black Betty, I simply WON'T speak to him on yer behalf. On that, ye can wager. If ye would only TRUST me, Sweet Queen, I could be thy truest o' friends!' The glittering black coals beseeched the queen through the ghoulish iron eyeholes of the scold's bridle, pleading for her to heed Black Betty's "sincere" offer of alliance ....
A peal of genuine laughter burst from Xenia at the hag's request for trust. "Oh, Betty, that's rich! Hahahahaha! Trust you, say thee? Rich indeed! HAHAHAHAHA!! Ah .... Thanks for that fine jest, old hag .... I needed a good belly laugh. I'd sooner trust the BLACK PRINCE of AZZAGRAT to safeguard the chastity of the most beautiful and buxom of my handmaids than I'd trust YOU, you pox-riddled slattern of the swamp!" The furious queen turned her back imperiously to the hag and stormed off back the way she'd come. She needed to get away from Black Betty before she said or did something unwise out of anger. She needed to cool her rage in the evening breeze atop the palace battlements and think on what Black Betty had written on her slate board. Once she had calmed her rattled nerves and cooled her wrath, she would consult with the Grey Seer about the matter, and perhaps employ his divinatory magic to make clear her best course of action.
Orsino spends more time seducing Gray Marsha of Belial in Castle Skullguard.
Orsino spends more time discussing Barbatos and the nature of The Nine Hells with the five Bearded Devils in Castle Skullguard.
Orsino *tries to spend time with one of the Erinyes of Mephistopheles in Castle Skullguard.
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After a visit to The Temple of The Nine Hells, Orsino sends his Advanced Lemure Devil, his 'loyal' six Hobgoblins, his mated pair of Grimlocks, and his other nine Lemure Devils to Canon Jandor of Dispator in The Temple of The Nine Hells for further 'education' and 'to serve' for a period of three weeks. This 'favor' I give to The Temple of Nine Hells because I'm sooo nice.
Orsino meets with Jocelle at the structure they are converting into a Library/Museum/Custom-House adjacent to The Temple of Stern Alia -- that they are using as a Front for their rebuilding of The Horned Society. After learning of her recent goings on -- and with Malvolio's permission -- Orsino will transfer Jocelle and her Horned Society cadre to the former Temple of Hextor. There, Jocelle can create whatever front she feels comfortable with and can continue to build-up The Horned Society. I do have one job/condition for her for this promotion: Jocelle Teleports her cadre to Rel Astra to one of its collections of Lore (probably a library), raid it for content and teleport back here to begin the collection in The Grand Library of Medegia. Jocelle must do this asap as Lord Drax and The Fiend Sage will be returning to Rel Astra likely within a few days.
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After their three weeks in The Temple of Nine Hells, Orsino will recall his Advanced Lemure Devil, his Hobgoblins, Grimlocks and other Lemure Devils; he will ask for Gray Marsha to be assigned "To Orsino" and promote one of her archer-fighters to replace her, and ask for one of The Bearded Devils of Barbatos. (Maybe even convince one of the Erinyes of Mephistopheles!) This force will be in charge of maintaining the new-and-future Grand Library of Medegia. (Once we get The Sword of Kas to Grimaldi, Orsino will pay Erlick for the services of the Advanced Mimic.)
Orsino spends more time seducing Gray Marsha of Belial in Castle Skullguard.
Noted. Their bond strengthens. Gray Marsha suggests that any infants that might be born of their frequent couplings be sacrificed to Belial to procure the archdevil's favors for them.
Orsino spends more time discussing Barbatos and the nature of The Nine Hells with the five Bearded Devils in Castle Skullguard.
Noted. The bearded devils teach Orsino about a ritual practiced by the cult of Barbatos, known as "the Shearing," in which humanoid captives are stripped, shaved naked with rusted shears, and abused in animal pens until they give up all semblance of civilization. Such unfortunates are then sacrificed as mere animals, their souls condemned to Avernus and their entrails used to divine Barbatos's favor. The bearded devils hint that Orsino would earn boons from Barbatos by making such sacrifices to him.
Orsino *tries to spend time with one of the Erinyes of Mephistopheles in Castle Skullguard.
Noted. Orsino finds the erinyes too eager to feign amorous fidelity to Malvolio for the time being for any of them to dally with a "mageling who can barely cast spells of the second order" ....
After a visit to The Temple of The Nine Hells, Orsino sends his Advanced Lemure Devil, his 'loyal' six Hobgoblins, his mated pair of Grimlocks, and his other nine Lemure Devils to Canon Jandor of Dispator in The Temple of The Nine Hells for further 'education' and 'to serve' for a period of three weeks. This 'favor' I give to The Temple of Nine Hells because I'm sooo nice.
Understood. The favor is appreciated and will be appropriately reciprocated in due time, and" when Orsino is in greatest need."
Orsino meets with Jocelle at the structure they are converting into a Library/Museum/Custom-House adjacent to The Temple of Stern Alia -- that they are using as a Front for their rebuilding of The Horned Society. After learning of her recent goings on -- and with Malvolio's permission -- Orsino will transfer Jocelle and her Horned Society cadre to the former Temple of Hextor. There, Jocelle can create whatever front she feels comfortable with and can continue to build-up The Horned Society. I do have one job/condition for her for this promotion: Jocelle Teleports her cadre to Rel Astra to one of its collections of Lore (probably a library), raid it for content and teleport back here to begin the collection in The Grand Library of Medegia. Jocelle must do this asap as Lord Drax and The Fiend Sage will be returning to Rel Astra likely within a few days.
The renascent Horned Society, led by Jocelle and her companions, accomplishes the task assigned them by Orsino, capturing not only a respectable number of volumes of mundane nature concerning the histories of the Great Migrations (penned by Uhas of Neheli) and the Great Kingdom (penned by Maldorphus of Garasteth and Sylphwaldo of Darmen), but also a collection of private missives from the Fiend Sage to Lord Drax of Rel Astra concerning various rare monsters of the jungles of Amedio and Hepmonaland, the frozen waste known as the Land of Black Ice in the north, and secret lore regarding the origins of the clockwork City of the Gods hidden in the latter arctic wasteland ....
After their three weeks in The Temple of Nine Hells, Orsino will recall his Advanced Lemure Devil, his Hobgoblins, Grimlocks and other Lemure Devils; he will ask for Gray Marsha to be assigned "To Orsino" and promote one of her archer-fighters to replace her, and ask for one of The Bearded Devils of Barbatos. (Maybe even convince one of the Erinyes of Mephistopheles!) This force will be in charge...
Pleased with Orsino's display of initiative and ambition, the Horned King grants his henchman's requests, assigning Gray Marsha to Orsino's official command, promoting the archer-fighter Dido to command of her former garrison, and assigns a bearded devil and an erinyes (which causes the devils to view the "mageling" in a more respectful light) to provide security and enforce Orsino's commands regarding the future Grand Library of Medegia.
The first child of Gray Marsha and Orsino may be sacrificed by her to Belial. Orsino may choose the fate of the second, either sacrificial to Hell or raised in Medegia in a Temple to Hell.
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Orsino is interested in seeing which of the Bearded Devils seems most impressed and respectful to Orsino, regardless of that Bearded Devil's ability or intellect.
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Ah, Erinyes -- another cold shower for me. .... For now.
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Very happy to hear The Temple of The Nine Hells is doing well, glad the Hextorites are Gone?, and hopefully will further indoctrinate my own growing cadre.
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Very pleased with Jocelle and The Horned Society. Tell all of this to Malvolio & Countess Olivia, and with The Horned King's nod grant 'Q' in Nulbish to The Horned Society, whatever front Jocelle would like to create.
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Awesome
Of course, these events take place after we return from the mansion in Rel Deven.
Starday 20th of Flocktime, in an upper chamber of an ominous tower of black stone that soars above most of the palatial manors of the Old City in Rel Astra ....
Left in charge of governing and defending Rel Astra during his distant cousin Overking Drax's absence, the death knight Lord Andromansis of House Garasteth soon learns of the plague that has been spreading throughout the metropolis during the past week, carried by a sudden infestation of rats. Normally, the undead archmage would be completely uninterested in such news, and totally unmoved by the plight of Rel Astra's mortal citizens.
"Bloody plague .... filthy rats .... Very well, then .... How could this have occurred so suddenly? .... And what, are the clergy of Hextor, Nerull, and Wee Jas completely useless, then? .... Why am I even being troubled with this?? .... I should have known something like this would occur as soon as Drax and his band of merry grave-robbers went traipsing off into the Vast Swamp on his absurd quest .... Why do I get the feeling this pestilence and plague is no mere accident of chance? .... It stinks of the work of saboteurs .... Drax's enemies have somehow become aware of his absence, and have struck while the iron was hot! .... The brazen theft that occurred yesterday at the Fiend Sage's grand library is further evidence of this, I am sure of it .... Very well .... I shall consult with the diviners at the Cathedral of Wee Jas .... Mayhap they will be able to discern the source of these recent troubles ...."
The death knight archmage casts teleport, arriving outside the great domed Cathedral of Wee Jas, and strides through the main portals as if he owned the place, leaning upon a black staff engraved with runes of arcane power and topped with a black skull ....
An hour later, after consulting with the high priestess of Wee Jas, they had devised a series of inquiries to make after the high priestess had cast a potent divination to commune with the greater goddess of death and magic--inquiries certain to narrow down and pinpoint which of Drax's innumerable enemies were behind the recent plague of rats, and the theft of important and even secret volumes taken from the Fiend Sage's grand library the day before ....
I wonder what Ahlissa and North Province did to Rel Astra while Lord Drax was away.
I wonder what Ahlissa and North Province did to Rel Astra while Lord Drax was away.
Waterday 26th of Flocktime, ~2:00 PM, in the fest hall of the Lord High Admiral's Palace on Asperdi Isle in the Dominion of the Sea Barons:
Lord High Admiral of Asperdi, Basmajian Arras, Commander of the Sea Barons, is finishing a late lunch with three of his favorite concubines (all lovely young women less than half his age). His belly full of fresh seafood and fine wine from his own vineyard, he has worked up a different kind of appetite over the course of the meal, flirting with the three young women, who each try to surpass the other two in seductiveness. "Well, my sweet darlings," begins Basmajian, flashing a lascivious grin, "Shall we make ourselves more comfortable in my private--" The wicked grin is quickly replaced by a scowl of irritation as his liveried herald, Drufus, storms into the fest hall, an apologetic look on his face, and announces in a strident tenor cry: "Ambassadors from the Horned Kingdom, My Lord!" Basmajian's grey eyes narrow at this unexpected news ....
Into the fest hall strides a pair of tall, darkly beautiful erinyes devils, their black-feathered wings folded behind them, coiled ropes hanging at their hips from black leather girdles, and carrying between them a coffer of ornately carved coral .... Basmajian recognizes the coral coffer with a start--it is the very same one he'd sent along with Captain Arryn Aelberoth to the Horned King's royal court in Nulbish, laden with pearls as a "reparation gift" .... Basmajian suddenly feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach .... "What's this?? .... I don't like the looks of this already ....", thinks the Commander of the Sea Barons as the two erinyes approach him bearing the coral coffer, smiling at him in a way that he does not like, no matter how beautiful they are.
Setting the coffer on the table before Basmajian, the two erinyes announce in unsettling unison: "His Fearsome Majesty, the Horned King of Medegia, Malvolio I, sends this gift to Your Prominence, Lord High Admiral of Asperdi and Commander of the Sea Barons, Basmajian Arras!" Basmajian stares at the coffer for a moment, as if he is looking at Pandora's Box itself, then at the two erinyes, whose knowing smiles broaden, exposing pearly teeth with canines like those of wolves' .... They both curtsey mockingly, and then vanish into thin air, leaving only a faint lingering scent of exotic perfume mingled with sulfur ....
Basmajian peers down at the coral coffer with obvious trepidation. The three young concubines exchange anxious glances. Basmajian seems to become aware of the young women again, and without saying a word, gestures for them to leave; they do not hesitate, as they are all too eager to comply, and they hurry out of the fest hall. Basmajian is not accustomed to feeling intimidated anywhere, much less in his own palace. He grits his teeth and glares angrily at the coral coffer. "Very well," he growls quietly to himself, "Let us see what the Horned King has sent us ...." He carefully lifts open the lid and peers into the coffer ....
Within the coral coffer rests the severed head of Captain Arryn Aelberoth, his lifeless grey eyes staring back at Basmajian from a pale, bloodless, expressionless face. Basmajian slams the lid of the coral coffer closed, his own normally tan face almost as pale as that of Captain Aelberoth's decapitated head. "Norebo preserve me! He must have found out .... Damn him to Baator!'
Earthday morning, ~9:00 AM, 20th of Flocktime, in the fragrant garden within the bailey of the Royal Palace at Pitchfield, capital city of the Kingdom of Sunndi:
Olvenking Hazendel I, Steward of the South and Defender of Sunndi, sits on the lip of a rose quartz fountain basin, meditating to the susurrus of the bubbling water, and the melodic singing of halcyons and less exotic birds, occasionally punctuated by the strident call of a peacock prancing around the bailey. He was contemplating the harrowing events that had occurred in the first weeks of the month--Wastri and his Hopping Horde's swift and savage invasion of Sunndi and total razing of several watchtowers, villages, and towns along the southern border with the Vast Swamp and up the east bank of the Pawluck River .... The Battle of Pitchfield Meadows seemed like it had only occurred yesterday, though a full week had passed since he and his allies had met Wastri, "The Hopping Prophet" and "Hammer of Demihumans," in fierce battle at the Rieuwood Gate ....
His revery was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a strange reflection in the water of the rose quartz fountain basin--a reflection where none should have been! The tingling sensation of gooseflesh ran from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, and up both arms, and his right hand darted to the jeweled hilt of the magic sword that hung at his left hip .... Yet, though the figure reflected in the fountain was exceedingly strange and unexpected, there was something comfortingly familiar about its appearance ....
The strange but fair figure reflected in the fountain basin smiled up at Hazendel, and yet seemed almost to be smiling down at him, for the heavens were reflected behind him .... His appearance was like a tall, athletic young man, certainly not human, but neither was he dwarf, elf, or other identifiable kind of humanoid .... His skin glowed like copper in the bright morning sun, and his dazzlingly bright blue eyes seemed to pierce into Hazendel like the tines of the metallic blue-violet trident he held up in a heroic salute. His shoulder-length hair was more like a mane of dancing silver flame than actual hair. His muscular torso was clad in a tunic of form-fitting sky-blue mail of the finest links, putting the mithral chainmail of the greatest elven and dwarven armorers to shame. When he spoke, his voice was like a clarion call to the hunt echoing in a green forest dale:
"Be not afraid, Hazendel, for I am He whom thou hast long prayed to. I bring thee tidings both dire and gladsome! Verily, verily, I say unto thee--Thou hast not seen the last of the wicked Wastri! E'en now, 'The Hammer of Gnomes and Halflings', 'The Impaler of Dwarves and Elves', licks his wounds with odious and slimy tongue at his Sacred Polystery in the Vast Swamp, dreaming of revenge against thee and thine allies, which hath so roundly trounced him, and put him to rout and grievous shame! .... Forsooth, Forsooth, I say again unto thee--afore the Richfest revels hath concluded, thy fair Kingdom of Sunndi shall see war and bloodshed again! Now, hearken well unto Me, My faithful Olvenking of the Sunnd, for I bear thee further ill tidings--Wastri is not the only enemy that shall rear his gross pollywog head anon--another foe, nigh the Hopping Prophet's match in strength and evil, treads with purposeful stride through the valleys of the Hollow Hills e'en now!"
Hazendel could hold silent no longer. "But, O, My Lord Trithereon!," (for he knew now to Whom he spoke) "Who is this other mighty foe, nigh unto Wastri in strength AND evil?? And how is thine humble servant and his kingdom to stand against TWO foes of such power and hatred??"
"Verily, Verily, My goodly and faithful Olvenking, I say again unto thee--Be not afraid! Thou shall not stand alone against these foes twain! Lo, I bestow upon thee a champion most worthy and formidable--My own Golarionite, Iggy of House Pop! .... *sigh* ..... Aye, Aye .... Forsooth, My Golarionite's true name be, well .... silly .... .... Well, besides ME, of course .... And My Golarianite wields the mightiest and wiliest of all tridents save Mine own, for I hath forged it Myself, especially for My noble Golarionite! Furthermore, he is a magus of the greatest ability! .... Ah! But lo! He cometh through yonder gatehouse e'en now!" Trithereon turns his fierce blazing blue gaze toward the Rieuwood Gate and points the glittering blue-violet tines of his trident toward a lean and nimble figure that appears in the arched gatehouse ....
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.... A lean and nimble figure with snow-white hair and skin the hue of a deepening dusk sky, slightly pointed ears, and ruby eyes that betrayed his dubious heritage to the grey elf king .... Indeed, this Iggy the Golarionite (whatever on Oerth that might be) was clearly at least half drow and half human man! And, as Trithereon had said, he carried a trident as black as a moonless night, as if it were forged from shadowstuff .... But half drow or not, Trithereon had called him His champion, and His, um, Golarionite .... So Hazendel would exercise his faith in the words of his deity.
The Golarionite--Iggy of House Pop--hailed the Olvenking: "Hail to the Olvenking! 'Tis another suburban family morning! Grandmother screaming at the wall! We have to shout above the din of our Rice Krispies! We can't hear anything at all! Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration, but we all know her suicides are fake! Daddy only stares into the distance .... There's only so much more that he can take .... Iggy the Golarionite gestures broadly with his night-black trident as he recites this strange ballad, and bows courteously to the grey elf king ....
