Part II--The Darkness Grows
The war was going badly. The treacherous, malevolent evil that was the Nameless One raged at the barred portcullis to Haven.
He had sent plagues to rain destruction on the world, and his minions had gathered a vast army. Demons, undead, goblinoids and the power-mad barbarians of the Northern reaches had swept down on the hapless inhabitants of the continent of Tollossus, scything down the enemy soldiers as if they were no more than stalks of wheat. Those first battles had been overwhelmingly successful for the forces of evil. The Golden City fell like a ripe peach, the races of demi-humans were driven to the brink of extinction, and the puny armies of men were in turmoil. The Nameless One exulted that soon, very soon, the world of Haven would be his, a citadel of power from whence he would spread his malignant tyranny throughout the material plane.
But then, unbelievably, the tide began to turn. Men and elves and dwarves banded together into a cohesive alliance. Their determination slowly drove the evil armies back to the icy North. Countless tales of valor and gallantry were told of these steadfast heroes. Countless others, whose deeds were no less courageous, died unsung, their bravery witnessed only by the gods. None died in vain, for slowly the forces of evil were cast into disarray. Side by side, stalwart warrior and cerebral mage, devout cleric and clever rogue, fought, and fighting, died. Side by side, human and elf, dwarf and all, fought, and fighting, lived. With each defeat the Homestead Alliance grew more cunning, with each victory they grew stronger, and the 'invincible' Horde retreated.
With equal resolve and quiet courage, the common people fought back too. Despite the anguish caused by the Plague of the First Born, the depleted populations of dwarves and elves began to recover, accepting a grief more profound than any other to ensure that their people, their race, would not vanish from the world. Even the halflings, once believed to be wholly extinct, made their presence felt, and the 'bigguns' smiled to know that those determined little folk were not giving up or giving in.
In response to this unyielding assault the forces of evil fragmented and began to fight amongst themselves, killing each other off in their quest for power and position instead of focusing on the artifacts and the return of the Nameless One...
The Nameless One shrieked with rage, a sound to make the lesser demons flee in terror, and his personal succubus to cower and cringe in horrified anticipation. He shrieked again, summoning one of his senior Lieutenants. Although engaged in combat, the five-headed dracolich broke off his attack immediately and returned to the Abyss. He prostrated himself before his sovereign and his voice was servile as he asked, "How can I serve you, Your Malevolence?"
"Hastur," the Nameless One replied in chillingly silky tones. "My Chaos Knights have been destroyed." His voice sharpened into a scourge, "Destroyed, Hastur! Not a hundred miles from where you were playing, toying with those pathetic dwarves!"
Hastur flinched, but dared not make a sound, and after a moment the Nameless One again spoke with specious calm, "How did this happen, Hastur? In the territory that was yours to subjugate?"
Hastur shuddered violently. This did not look good. If he'd still had a tongue in his skeletal head he would have licked his lips nervously. Lacking that he swallowed hard and ventured, "I was annihilating the Temple and the Oracle, Your Malevolence, just as you, in your infinite wisdom, ordered. May I humbly ask, how your Chaos Knights were destroyed?"
The Nameless One glared at the dracolich and small tendrils of smoke began to curl from his undead bones. Fighting to control the growing pain Hastur waited in silence and at last the Nameless One continued, "Blargenpfeffer is a traitor. That forever cursed undead beholder has dared--dared--to set himself against me. He thinks he can keep the Crest of Ahrimon for himself. In his library and in the Temple of the Oracle are the only documents that reveal where the pieces of the Crest were hidden. The Knights were to get the information from him and retrieve the Crest. Instead," the Nameless One's voice rose to a bellow that shook 237 of the 666 levels of Chaotic Evil, "he and his corrupt, craven minions slaughtered the damned, incompetent idiots! Through them Blargenpfeffer located the other Knights of Chaos. His forces swept out to find and destroy them."
The Nameless One continued to glare and small tongues of green fire began to flare from inside the dracolich's spine, hips and sternum. Hastur could not hold back the gasp of anguish that escaped from between his clenched teeth. The Nameless One smiled, and enjoyed watching his Lieutenant writhe for a moment before continuing, his voice again disturbingly calm, "He was deplorably successful. However, when I return to Haven he will pay. He will pay a thousand-fold. He will suffer a thousand times the torment you are suffering now, Hastur. This is just a small punishment for your failure..."
The flames suddenly engulfed the dracolich and the suffering demon's dreadful screams echoed through the Abyss.
Pasha Lacedoni leaned forward, fingertips steepled with his index fingers pressing against his chin. His eyes were hard and sharp as chips of flint, matching his voice when he spoke, but for a time he was silent. He liked to watch Lord Esclados squirm through the awkward silence under his gaze. The Dark Cleric represented the Horde...but, when all was said and done, what was he to the Guild but another customer?
"I am most sure I recall discussing our terms of service at length, Esclados."
The Pasha left out the title and waited only long enough to witness the insult dawn in Lord Esclados's eyes, "Failure of payment comes with serious consequences…as I mentioned at our last meeting. It is not a matter of threats, you understand, simply a business transaction. The Guild is always paid for its services…one way or another."
The Guildmaster paused again for the not-so-veiled threat to sink in, "Since you have chosen to discard my polite reminders as to your outstanding balance, Esclados, our relationship is at an end. The Guild will collect the entirety of the agreed contract sum, plus two hundred percent interest. The Guild's interest in the contract will be rescinded; all the items specified in the contract are now possessions of the Guild and its controlling body."
The Pasha's lecturing tone started to drift off as he turned slightly away from Lord Esclados, as if dictating to some unseen clerk (which possibly he was), "Lord Esclados and all associates thereof are refused any future contracts and associations with Guild Members. Likewise, all contracts pertaining to Lord Esclados, his associates and their families and possessions are encouraged, advertised, and endorsed by the Guild."
He lowered his hands to his desk, palms flat on the dark oak. Those hard, sharp eyes met those of Lord Esclados and without standing Lacedoni announced, "You will now leave, Lord Esclados. I believe you know the way out."
"Sugar?" the venerable golden dragon asked cordially, pouring out the boiler of tea he'd brewed into two enormous casks. When he finished his duties as a proper host he leaned back against the grassy embankment, as easy as a squire in his armchair, crossed his tail comfortably over his legs, and smiled at his visitor. "To answer your question, very well, I think. The illusion was...eminently satisfactory." His eyes twinkled merrily above his 'teacup' as he paused for another sip. "You were brilliant! The Maximovs and their associates sincerely believe that their orders came directly from the Nameless One himself. They started gallivanting off to the Dwarven Halls in search of a sword! Can you believe it? They really think the Ultimate Sacrifice is a sword!" Chivraladium chuckled heartily. The ground shook with his laughter. "Well, we couldn't permit them to molest the dwarves, of course. Bronzerock's people have suffered more than enough already, dear souls. However, I have been keeping the vampires quite busy! Their journey has been...well, substantially delayed if not forestalled. They think I'm a dreadful coward. I show myself, engage their attention, and then retreat, just slowly enough to lure them into following. It's absolutely exquisite, dear boy! I suppose it's terribly callous of me to admit it, with world events as they are, but...I haven't had this much fun in centuries! More tea?"
The Shadow Druids had won! The Veranite Talisman was theirs. No more would unnatural, pestilent cities defile the face of Haven! No more would people crowd together like maggots squirming in a rotting wound. The Talisman would purge them, annihilate them all, cleanse the corruption of 'civilization' from the face of the continent!
The zealots gloried in the righteousness of their cause. Those soft, spineless false Druids who had hidden the Talisman for so long, cowed by its power, and too weak and fearful to wield it, now lay dead and rotting, slain by the Artefact they had served. The feeble Elven Blades had fallen, shattered by the power of Avenging Nature! They had sought the Talisman to destroy it, trembling lest it fall into the hands of the Nameless One! Fools! Gutless slaughtered fools! The Shadow Druids laughed in their cold, dead faces.
At first the Guild too had tried to wrest the Talisman from them, to secure it for the Nameless One, but they had broken off their assault. Obviously they were too terrified to persist in their efforts. What other reason could they have for backing off? But...it didn't matter. Balance would be restored. What concern was it of the Order, these petty squabbles between trivial Gods? Mikkela, made manifest in her Creation, was the only one who mattered!
Lately the Druids had been annoyed by the attempts of yet another group of witless drivellers who called themselves the Justiciars. They kept trying to forestall the obliteration of Graevis. The Druids had been waiting, patient as spiders, for the Talisman to recharge...was it these Justiciars who had caused it to go off prematurely, sending temblors shuddering through the city? What...what was happening? The earthquakes were getting worse! Storm-clouds were gathering, towering and black...the wind howled from the North...and far away, felt but not seen, a nexus of unspeakable power grew...