Category Archives: Orc

Aataltaal, Academy of Arcane Science, Combine Empire, Dark Elven, Deathfist, EQRPG Lore, Freeport, Lady Delailith, Landing, mobile, Neriak, Orc, Rod of Command, Teir'Dal

Aataltaal I : The Long Night

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Before it became Freeport, the human city on the eastern shore of Antonica was known as Landing. Formed by survivors of the Combine Empire, Landing was ruled by the high elf Aataltaal, though most of its inhabitants were human. Aataltaal did not wish to be a king, but was a military commander unwilling to leave those who had followed him while they were under constant attack from dark elves of Neriak and the Deathfist orcs.

Seeking help with this problem, Aataltaal allied himself with several powerful arcane spellcasters (who would eventually go on to form the Academy of Arcane science). One of these was Lady Delailith, an enchanter and sage of considerable power. Lady Delailith predicted correctly the
dark elves’ attempt to assassinate Aataltaal on the same night an orc warband tried to storm the city. Armed with this foreknowledge, Aataltaal prepared a trap, setting in motion a complex plan.
The trap itself was simple — Aataltaal kept his spellcaster allies and several clerics and paladins of the twin Marr gods with him, most of them dressed as pages and commoners.

When the dark elf assassins struck, they found themselves suddenly outnumbered and outmagicked. Aataltaal then sent the survivors of that fight to bolster Landing’s military forces, crushing the Deathfist orcs.

The plan that grew out of the trap was far more difficult. Aataltaal knew this night would weaken the dark elf and orc forces enough for Landing to establish itself permanently. If he stayed, the people would turn to him for leadership, and he’d be bound to the humanocentric city forever. If, however, he somehow disappeared without a trace, they would be forced to choose new leaders from amongst their own kind. Aataltaal told only Lady Delailith of his plans, and left with her the Rod of Command, telling her to return to the city only if it were about to fall; for himself, he confided to her alone that he had other plans, and would not return until they had been addressed, and perhaps not even then.

Thus without warning, Aataltaal left Landing on the very night he secured its future.

Aataltaal, Antonica, Black Tombs, Combine Empire, Crusade of Tears, Crushbone, EQRPG Lore, Faydwer, Freeport, Grave Mounds, Hills of Shade, Knights of Truth, Lady Delailith, Mayong Mistmoore, mobile, Orc

Grave Mounds of the Hills of Shade

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The region known as the Grave Mounds contains the densest collection of barrows within the Hills of Shade. Located in the northeastern corner of the hills, the grave mounds include tombs dating back to the Combine Empire and the mysterious civilization that built the Black Tombs, and also features crypts crafted by the ancient forebears of the Crushbone orcs, as well as the first elves who traveled to Faydwer from Antonica; finally, the most recent additions are those tombs placed here by the Knights of Truth from Freeport during the Crusade of Tears. In addition, there are numerous burial mounds that have been completed by one group or another but which for whatever reason were never used, which is likely why so many different groups have placed some of their dead here.

As a result, the barrows themselves are far from uniform.They vary in size from a single room to complexes that spread across (or rather underneath) nearly a full acre of surface area. Many of the barrows are linked by tunnels or cracks in the earth, creating subterranean labyrinths of great danger. Great numbers of barrow wolves make their dens within these mounds, and other creatures often inhabit them as well. Many have complex traps set to protect the treasures buried within, and some of these traps are tied into steam vents to allow them to reset after each use.

Unlike the Black Tombs, the burial mounds are easily spotted from the outside. Each is a large earthen mound with a huge stone slab placed over the top and shale built up around the sides. This area is somewhat more geologically stable than other parts of the Hills, so, although quakes do occasionally bury or reveal new mounds, many of the same mounds can be found on any visit to the region. As the mounds have no distinctive markings on the outside, however, it’s impossible to determine who (or what) is in each without either moving the enormous rock atop it (certainly a difficult task, as each weighs at least several tons) or digging into it from the side.

Because of these difficulties, scavengers and corpse miners tend to ignore the Grave Mounds in favor of easier pickings elsewhere. Only individuals seeking a specific barrow spend time hunting here. The sole exception to this rule is agents of Mayong Mistmoore. Dark offerers, deathly ushers, pledge familiars, recluses, webstranders, and even will sappers are fairly common sights around the Mounds, digging into old barrows and setting up ropes and pulleys to remove the huge capstones. It has been suggested that these creatures are seeking a particular tomb for their master, but, if so, no one knows which one, or why.

According to legend, the high elf Aataltaal, founder of Freeport, is buried within the largest of these mounds. This is not true (and many whisper that the elf is not dead at all), but the mistake is understandable: One of the few elves who aided Aataltaal in establishing the primarily human city of Freeport, Lady Delailith, did return to Felwithe upon his disappearance, and eventually her remains were buried here in the hills. Her burial mound, long hidden and lost to posterity, was only recently rediscovered.

Caerthielian Empire, Crushbone, Druid Circle, Dwarven, EQRPG Lore, Hills of Shade, Kaladim, Land of Hungry Mountains, Land of Steam and Shadow, Orc, Rallos Zek, Shissar, Teir'Dal, Teleportation Pyramid, The Dark Lords, The Temple of Rallos Zek

History of the Hills of Shade

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The earliest records regarding the Hills of Shade are the old dwarven sagas of Kaladim. In these it is called the Land of Steam and Shadow, and is even today often used as ametaphor for death. Interestingly, these sagas also make itclear that even in the dwarves’ ancient history, this landwas already full of ancient tombs and twisted wildlife. Mostof the tales make no effort to explain where the tombs camefrom, but a few references to the “dark lords” has lead Teir’Dal scholars to claim the hills were a common burial ground for their Caerthielian Empire. By contrast, the few dwarven lore-masters who have studied the question claim that the origin of the tombs is not mentioned simplybecause it was unimportant, and thus is the result of some minor kingdom long since forgotten.

Not nearly as old or reliable are the legends perpetuated by the Crushbone orcs. Ancient maps in the possession of the orcs of Crushbone — written in an ancient orc dialect known only to a handful of scholars today (none of whom are among the Crushbone orcs) — call this region the “Land of Hungry Mountains.” These orc maps also show a temple to Rallos Zek, a druid stone circle, and two teleport pyramids, as well as a pictogram of a shissar, although one needs to read Ancient Orc to know this. Crushbone prophets claim the area as forbidden to any but prophets of Rallos Zek and they sometimes journey to the hills to seek guidance and visions, yet they seem to have no real idea about the region’s history.

Aataltaal, Academy of Arcane Science, Book, Dark Elven, Deathfist, EQRPG Lore, Felwithe, Freeport, Journal of Aataltaal, Lady Delailith, Landing, Luclin, mobile, Orc, Paladins of Marr, Rod of Command, Teir'Dal

Aataltaal III : Journal of Aataltaal

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Final Entry—

It is with heavy heart on this long night that I write what I know to be my last entry here. I have deliberated on this issue, and always I come to the same conclusion. These are a brave people in Landing — noble, able, determined. Yet as long as I stay, they shall defer to me out of respect for what I have done in these early years. I would simply pass on the rulership to another, but any whom I favor shall be treated with the same thoughtless deference, and these people must have a ruler they have chosen from among themselves. For this to happen, I must be gone entirely, beyond any hope of their finding me.

Of course, in a matter of hours the question may be moot. An army of the Deathfist unlike any I have seen marches toward our walls, and at this moment a band of accursed Teir’Dal assassins positions itself beneath our feet. I am confident, with the warning I have received from these strange scientists of the arcane, that I have plotted a course through these troubles. But my sense that the city and its people shall endure is no guarantee that I myself shall live through this night. The paladins of Marr have sworn to lay down their lives to protect mine, but a stray blade or spell of death may always find me. Still, I must be the bait, and only a complete victory over the Teir’Dal allows my remaining forces to reinforce the walls and defeat the Deathfist.

After that, the city is safe. Difficult years may lie ahead, but these people deserve a chance to plot their own destinies. I cannot in good conscience bring the entire city along on the dread road I must travel. Lady Delailith shall return to Landing should it require help, but my heart tells me that she will never need to do so. A finer people I have not known on Norrath, and I love them enough to set them free of my shadow.

Tonight, even if he sees the end of it, Aataltaal dies to the mortal world. At least until such a time as events may require me to reveal myself again.

By Mine Own Hand,

Aataltaal

———-

An addendum:

The deed is done, the Teir’Dal smashed, the Deathfist lay in ruins. I take this journal, along with all else that has been entrusted into my care, to depart from this free port back to my homeland a continent away. After living unfettered on this rough land, I can never again accept the policies and obligations of Felwithe. But for the same reasons Aataltaal must go, so too must I. Already they turn to me, asking his fate — and why not ask a sage to find such knowledge? Even if I can hold their questions off until they relent and remit, I foresee they will choose me to fill his place. I am too clearly associated with him, and his memory cannot fade until mine has.

Already I have removed my name from the battle-lists, burned all correspondence, and sworn my agents never to speak my name again. In one human generation, I will be a myth. In ten, I will be forgotten.

I mourn to never see the Academy built, to never again know the smell of the market and feel the warm, relentless sun on my face. But I shall find a new place in the unexplored wilds of Faydwer and there spend my last days. When my last breath gives forth, I shall be buried there, in whatever new home I have made. My agents can bring me word of Landing’s progress, and, as my master wishes, I shall return should it ever have need, Rod in hand, to aid it. Yet I have had a Moment of Truth, and have perceived that there shall be no such trouble until I am long gone, when Luclin shall be buried in Norrath.

But enough. This truly shall be the last entry into this journal, which I must take away as I remove myself.

By Mine Own Hand,

Delailith

Book, EverQuest 2 Lore, Fortress of Krithgor, Giant, Goblin, Orc, Rallosian Army, Tallon Zek, The Curse, Tunaria, Vallon Zek, Warlord Murdunk

Chronicle of Gromok Vol. II

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At the height of victory it happened, I know not what fearful deities are responsible, nor what ancient magics were unleashed on my people and our brethren races of the Rallosian Empire. I know only what I myself witnessed at the accounts of the other survivors of what is spoken of only as The Curse. The first signs I saw of the curse were angry shouts of ogre magi when the planar portals closed. Then the screams of those same magi as fire simultaneously ignited from within their bodies leaving only memories and ashes.

Shortly after witnessing the demise of the magi stationed at the Fortress of Krithgor a battered legion unit arrived at the fortress gates. The soldiers brought word of Murdunk’s dishonorable death, accusing The Rathe of cursing Murdunk to fall from a cliff at the site of The Rathe’s execution. They spoke of the disappearances of many great Ogre war leaders, including Murdunk’s tactician and strategist, Generals Tallon and Vallon, and even the Warlord Rallos Zek. This worn unit of soldiers was relieved of their previous duties by our superiors and stationed at the Fortress of Krithgor. A new Legion Unit was formed from the soldiers that had been stationed there for some time, myself included, and we were charged with completing the duties of the reassigned soldiers.

Days passed swiftly for me as my legion unit traveled to various fortresses and battlefields. The sights revealed to us at each arrival to this day seem unreal. With the great military leaders and the magi dead or missing our fortresses began to fall. The Giants, also crippled with the loss of their magi, retreated deep into the wilderness. The Orcs became obsessed with greed and blood lust, dividing from the Rallosian Empire into petty clans fighting each other over the spoils of the war. The Goblins went mad cowering in the shadows and caverns of Tunaria’s frontiers. We returned after man months to the Fortress of Krithgor to find the once mighty stronghold reduced to rubble like so many of the fortresses we had visited on our patrol.

Whatever creatures had destroyed the fortress had not even spared women and children, their remains lay strewn about the stones that once formed the strongholds walls. This was when I gave in to my pride and accepted that the Rallosian Empire was no more.

Book, EverQuest 2 Lore, Fortress of Krithgor, Giant, Goblin, Lake Rathetear, Ogre, Orc, Planes of Power, Rallos Zek, Rallosian Army, Rathe Council, Rathe Mountains, Tallon Zek, Tunaria, Vallon Zek, Warlord Murdunk

Chronicle of Gromok Vol. I

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The Chronicle of Gromok Hergom

I ink these words for fear that my once proud and mighty Ogres will forget the events I have seen in my long life. I am known at the time of this inking as Elder Gromok but I was once a soldier of little renown and status in the mighty Rallosian Legions under the command of Warlord Murdunk.

I was not raised to be an Elder of my fellow Ogres. My training was that of a soldier and I concerned myself only with the arts of warfare. It is with reluctance that I now bear the mantle of Elder and the cause of that reluctance is the same reason that I ink this tale.

I was stationed at the Fortress of Krithgor when the ogre magi first opened the portals to the Planes of Power. Plans were quickly laid and orders sent to our fortresses and troops in all corners of Tunaria. A large invasion force of Ogres, Giants, Orcs, and Goblins gathered at the newly opened planar portals. At the time I felt disappointed that my orders were to remain at Fortress Krithgor, that disappointment quickly turned to anger when I learned that the invasion failed, and although Warlord Murdunk survived our losses were great.

Some time passed before news reached the Fortress of Krithgor that a second invasion was being orchestrated. Rumors circled like hungry buzzards over a field of carnage concerning the plans for this second invasion. It was even said that Rallos Zek was to lead the campaign with Warlord Murdunk and the most renowned champions of the Giants, Orcs, and Goblins by his side. Once again my orders were to remain at the home front to defend the women, children, and elderly citizens of the Rallosian Empire.

It was not long after the invasion forces of the Rallosian Legions once again passed through the portals to the Planes of Power that the home front too became a place of battle, slaughter, and glory. Mortal disciples of deities opposed to The Warlord, Rallos Zek, attacked the citizens and fortresses of the Rallosian Empire on Tunaria. Our enemies fought valiantly, and the resulting battles were the most glorious I was ever to behold. My weapons and armor were stained with the blood of our foes, and our children and elders kept safe within our impenetrable strongholds. Messengers passing through the Fortress of Krithgor spoke of the victories of the legion units led by Rallos Zek, Warlord Murdunk, and the Generals Tallon and Vallon. It was said that the Rathe Council, the twelve rulers of the Plane of Earth had been captured and forced to Norrath where they were being executed by Murdunk and his Generals, that mountains burst from the earth where the gods fell and that the dying tears of the fallen gods formed a cold, deep lake between the newly risen mountain peaks.

Dark Elven, EverQuest 2 Lore, Freeport, Gnome, House of V'Dreth, Lucan D`lere, Luclin, mobile, Nektulos, Official Website, Orc, Plane of Sky, Qeynos, Ratonga, Teir'Dal, The Commonlands, The Shattering, Thexian

Tome of Destiny – Chapter XI – The Shattering

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They crept through the shadows and waited for the guard to pass.

“He’s gone, Tielya. It’s safe.”

“The guards should be the least of your concerns,” she replied. “If my father ever found out that a human like you would be so bold as to touch a Teir’Dal maiden, he’d have your head on a pike before dawn.”

“Good point,” he said, pulling her close to him. “And what do you think he’d do if he found out that I’m going to marry you?”

“Impudent human!” she exclaimed, pushing away. “What makes you think a daughter of the house of V’Dreth would consent to such a union?”

“This,” he answered, kissing her softly.

She smiled. “Even so, my father will be furious. I’m not joking when I say we have to be careful.”

“I know,” he answered, “but your father isn’t here right now. And if we don’t make our way to the docks soon, the guard will be back. Let’s go.”

He took her hand and led her to the pier. A small boat was tied up below the dock. They climbed down into it and untied the rope, rowing quietly into the harbor.

“Such a beautiful night,” Tielya said. “I love the darkness of the new moon. Don’t you, Sarven?”

“I love the darkness of your skin more, but the moon is nice, too.” He smiled. Her eyes glinted back at him.

They rowed around the edge of the harbor, past the tall ships anchored at the Freeport docks. Their boat glided out of sight of the watchtowers to a deserted spot near the sandy shore. Sarven put down the oars and Tielya leaned back against him. They looked out across the silent water.

“The sea hasn’t been this calm for a long time. A good omen, I think,” she said to him.

“Indeed. Maybe it’s a sign that we should run away from your family and start a new life somewhere else.”

“Where could we go that a human and a dark elf would be allowed to live together? The Commonlands are overrun by orcs. If we fled to Nektulos, the fanatical Thexians would eagerly hunt you down. And while you might be able to find a place in Qeynos, I doubt they’d be very welcoming to a Teir’Dal. The oceans are still unsafe to cross. Our options are–”

She stopped when she noticed the sky over the water begin to shimmer and grow brighter.

“What is that?” Sarven asked.

“Some kind of distortion is forming. Whatever it is, it’s enormous.”

The flickering light coalesced. There, in the sky before them, was a round moon circled by an ephemeral ring.

“By the gods!” Tielya exclaimed. “Can that be Luclin?”

“I read about it growing up, but access to the moon was lost centuries ago. It was said to be hidden behind some kind of veil. Why would it be visible now?”

As he spoke, the moon began to glow brighter. Lines of energy arced across its surface as if the entire sphere crackled with power.

“What is happening?” she asked.

“Tielya, cover your eyes,” he told her.

“But it’s so beautiful.”

“Cover your eyes!”

For an instant the sky flashed as bright as day. Sarven squinted and shielded his eyes with his arm. After a moment the light dimmed, and he looked up to see Luclin broken apart in the sky, a wave of energy carrying chunks of debris rapidly toward Norrath.

“We need to go quickly,” he said. I don’t know how far away Luclin is, but it looks like pieces of it will be hitting soon.”

“Sarven,” she said softly, her eyes staring forward.

“Yes?”

“I can’t see anymore.”

“What do we know?” he asked.

“Very little,” the informant replied. “Most in Freeport were asleep when it happened, though of course the intensity of the light awoke them.”

“Can we even confirm it was Luclin?”

“Some who claim to have been to the Plane of Sky long ago agreed it looked like what they saw there, but who can say for certain? The planes play tricks on the eyes, and nothing may be what it appears. If it was Luclin, it was not as distant as many thought.”

“Any idea as to the cause?”

“Just rumors. Luclin has been cut off from us for so long now, many had all but forgotten about it. The priests think its destruction is a portent that the gods will soon return. Others speak of an invasion that happened there long ago and claim this is the result. The ogres blame it on gnome meddling; the humans suspect the ratonga. The Overlord has begun an investigation of his own, but at this point nothing is certain.”

“How bad are the casualties?”

“Too many to count. The largest pieces hit first, causing huge impact craters and scorching the lands. The Arcane Scientists claim that debris may be falling for years, perhaps even decades. They simply don’t know.”

The older Teir’Dal scowled. “I must have answers. Bring him in.”

Two guards opened the door and left the room, returning moments later dragging a man between them. He had been beaten badly and couldn’t walk on his own. They brought him before their master and held him up.

“Tell me, human, what did you see?”

“I… already told you,” he replied weakly.

The dark elf slapped him hard across the face. “Vile wretch! You blind my daughter and now lie to my face! No one may do that to V’Dreth and live!” The Teir’Dal slapped him again.

“We were… on the boat. We saw the flash. I begged her to look away. I would never hurt her.”

“Lies!” V’Dreth cried out as he hit Sarven again. “You kidnapped Tielya to hold her for ransom and stole her sight to hide your identity! Now tell me what you saw!” He clenched his fist and prepared to strike him again.

“Enough, father,” Tielya called out from the doorway. “Do not hurt the man I love.”

V’Dreth cringed. “You do not know what you are saying. He is a filthy human who has cast some spell on your mind. You could not love one such as him!”

She let go of the doorway and walked forward, nearly stumbling when she reached the edge of the table. She felt her way along it until she stood near her father.

“You have asked him over and over again what he saw. Why do you not ask the same of me?”

V’Dreth was silent for a moment. “Alright then, what did you see?”

She smiled faintly as she stared straight ahead with sightless eyes. “The moon was so clear. It was alive with energy flowing through every part of it. Then it was as if something in the center broke loose and leapt outward, like a bird of prey hatching from an egg. I couldn’t turn away. It was so beautiful.”

He looked down at the ground, then back at his daughter. “Do you really love this human?”

“I do,” she said defiantly.

“Then have him,” he said, motioning for his guards to drop Sarven on the floor. “Leave now, and never return to my house. I no longer have a daughter.”

Her face was stoic as she nodded once, bending down to help Sarven to his feet. “Guide me, my love, and I will carry you,” she whispered to him.

V’Dreth watched them go. He turned to the guards. “See that they find a room in an inn, somewhere out of the way. Deliver her things there. Make sure no harm comes to them, but never speak of them to me again. Go.”

The guard saluted and walked away. V’Dreth turned back to his informant. “There must be more answers to be had. Find them.”

The informant bowed and headed through the door, leaving V’Dreth alone in the dark chamber. The Teir’Dal touched the edge of the table his daughter had followed, then clenched his fist and stared into the shadows.

Ashen Order, Avatar of Below, Avatar of Fear, Avatar of Flame, Avatar of Tranquility, Avatar of War, Barbarian, Blade of Storms, Desert of Ro, EverQuest 2 Lore, Faydwer, Freeport, Freeport Militia, Giant, Gnoll, Knights of Truth, mobile, Official Website, Ogre, Orc, Priests of Marr, Qeynos, Rallosian Army, Solusek Ro, Soulfire, The Greenmist, Urduuk

Tome of Destiny – Chapter IX – The Battle of Defiance

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The pendant glowed like blue fire around his neck as the ranger called lightning down from the sky, striking the throngs of orcs and ogres. He fired arrow after arrow into their ranks, felling one after another of the cruel beasts.

But he knew it wasn’t enough.

The army of Qeynos was vastly outnumbered. Though storms raged above them, the Rallosian legions were drawing closer. Giants from the east uprooted boulders and used them as weapons, hurling them against the city walls. It seemed certain the gates would soon be breached, and then all would be lost.

The ranger signaled for his archers to fire at the giants, but the massive brutes were difficult to take down. And the orcs… the orcs were everywhere.

“For Qeynos!” shouted the ranger, and his troops cheered. They fight bravely, he thought to himself.

“For nothing!” replied a loud, hissing voice from the center of the Rallosian ranks. The ranger looked up. The wall of giants parted, and there, above the orcs and ogres, towered a being that seemed to be made of fire itself.

Niffet drew close to his leader. “What is that creature?”

“The Avatar of Flame,” the ranger replied. “The chosen of Solusek Ro.”

“Oh. Well, I have no doubt you can defeat it,” that halfling announced, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

The ranger drew his swords. “Keep taking down the giants. The city gates must hold.” He began slashing through the mass of orcs, making his way toward the being of fire.

“The Militia is falling back, General. Freeport will soon be ours.”

Urduuk smiled. “As I told you it would, Ignara. I will have Lucan’s head on a pike by nightfall.”

The ogre surveyed the battlefield. His troops swarmed everywhere, overpowering the city’s defenses in both number and ferocity.

“Beautiful,” he muttered.

“Indeed it is,” a familiar voice replied. Urduuk turned to face the massive being.

“Avatar!” he exclaimed. Have you come to witness my victory?”

“You have done well, Urduuk. This chaos is extraordinary. I look forward to your army decimating the other continents as well.”

“This is only the beginning, I assure you. When Antonica is cleansed, we move to Faydwer and–”

“General!” Ignara shouted. “We are being attacked on our southern flank!”

Urduuk looked toward the desert. A small but powerful force was cutting into his ranks, striking at the Rallosians with considerable power.

“The cursed monks have joined the fray,” he muttered angrily.

“Why weren’t they eliminated already?” The avatar asked. “The servant of the Tranquil will be imparting them a strength your oafish legions do not possess.”

“I ordered them to be destroyed, but my incompetent lieutenant betrayed me! I will show her the price of failure!” Urduuk drew his sword and advanced toward Ignara.

“Wait, General!” Ignara cried. “Something else approaches from the south!”

Urduuk turned. A thick cloud rolled rapidly across the sands, darkening the sky with a dense green haze.

“What have you done, Urduuk?” the avatar asked him. “What did you do to unleash this madness?”

The cloud was moving quickly toward the Rallosians. As it reached the edge of the army’s ranks, the ogres it touched fell lifelessly to the ground. The general watched them gasping for air one moment and twitching on the ground the next.

“My steed!” Urduuk ordered. “The son of Zek must live to fight another day. Bring me my steed!”

But no one was left to obey. The mist encircled the general, killing all those around him. Ignara struggled to breathe, reaching out to her leader. Finally even she collapsed.

“Fool!” the avatar shouted at Urduuk. “It is you who brought this fate onto your own people! The orcs are my only hope now. I will deal with the monks myself.” The massive figure marched toward the center of the orc army.

The mist coalesced around Urduuk, leaving him no escape. He swung his sword at the green cloud, but there was nothing solid for him to hit.

Defiler! it whispered to him. The time has come to pay for your crimes.

“What… what are you?” Urduuk stammered.

I am the voice of the one you betrayed. Your pride has brought your people to their downfall, just as it was in ancient days. But this time, retribution shall be mine.

“I betrayed no one!” he shouted back, swinging his sword wildly.

Liar! Fear could have been your ally. Instead you entered its temple and enslaved its children. Your insolence shall be the death of your people. But your soul, defiler, will know Fear for all eternity!

“No!” he screamed, but there was no reply. The green mist enveloped him, seeping into Urduuk’s lungs and stealing his breath. All around him the general could see his fallen soldiers, the lost remnants of his once unstoppable army.

The mist pulled at him, lifting him into the air. Below, Urduuk saw his own body crumpled on the sand. He tried to cry out, but had no voice. The mist carried him southward toward the darkness that lingered hungrily.

The defenders of Qeynos cheered as the mist receded, leaving the bodies of the ogres strewn across the grassland.

Aimara felled another orc and called out to her husband. “That cloud did half our work for us, Murbeck. Now all we’ve left to do is wipe out the orcs, giants, and goblins!”

“Child’s play for a Halasian!” shouted Murbeck. “We’ll finish these beasts up in no time.”

She laughed and swung her sword again. She relished the battle, but knew the odds were still slim. The orcs were off-balance and confused, but they still held the advantage in numbers. Soon they would realize this fact and resume their advance.

Aimara looked across the field of battle. The Avatar of Flame towered above the orcs, rallying the Rallosian forces and directing the giants to hold their ground. The avatar waved its hand, and suddenly a line of gnolls covered in flame charged toward the Qeynosians.

“By the Tribunal!” Murbeck shouted. “That beast set those pitiful gnolls on fire to use them as living weapons!”

The gnolls yelped in pain as they charged madly into the defenders’ ranks. The tactic had its desired effect as the army of Qeynos began to fall back.

“Enough!” cried a booming voice, louder even than the thunder. “You will pay for what you have done to the children of Brell!”

The battle grew still for a moment. The voice seemed to come from the ground itself, as if every rock had suddenly been given a voice.

“Who dares speak to me this way?” hissed the Avatar of Flame.

“The one who will make you pay for looting the dens of Brell’s creations!” answered the voice. “In your hunger for power you sought to consume the entire world, but now it is you who will be devoured!”

The earth shook violently and tore open huge chasms beneath the feet of the Rallosian army. The orcs screamed as they fell, their cries muffled as the fissures sealed up and buried them alive. Orc after orc was swallowed by the angry earth.

“No!” hissed the Avatar of Flame as its remaining forces began to scatter and flee. “Hold your ground, I command you!”

The ranger signaled to the knights waiting upon a nearby ridge. They charged down and circled the flaming creature. “Now,” said the ranger, “we finish this.”

“So you think the Avatar of Below has turned the tide, monk? I will show you that the power of Zek cannot be denied!”

The monk circled the massive being, fists clenched. “It was the pride and ignorance of your own armies that led to their downfall. Urduuk defiled the Temple of Cazic-Thule and made an enemy of the Avatar of Fear, while the enslavement of the gnolls caused Brell’s avatar to strike back at the orcs. Now all that remains is to put an end to you.”

“Fool! You cannot best me in battle!” The avatar drew his flaming sword. “If all else fails, I will at least have the pleasure of grinding you to dust.”

The monk leapt into the air and struck first, kicking the Avatar of War and knocking him back. The avatar swung his sword but missed, leaving him open for a series of punches.

The avatars clashed, striking at each other with the power of their opposing planes. The ground on which they fought began to rise, forming a plateau beneath them. On the flatlands below, the Ashen Order and the Knights of Truth fought the remnants of the Rallosian forces. The Freeport Militia drove the orcs away from the city walls and advanced upon the site of the battle, a helmeted figure in dark armor leading them forward.

The knights slashed at the fiery creature with their swords while the ranger called down winds and storms against it. The avatar was weakening, but it still struck with deadly fury.

The ranger looked around. Most of the remaining orcs were fleeing northward, though a few pockets of resistance held out against the Qeynosians. He could see a fierce battle going on between a group of barbarians and some of the stronger orcs.

“Yield to me, knights!” hissed the avatar. “I will share all the truths that the ranger is keeping from you!”

“Enough of your lies!” cried the leader of the knights. “Back to the abyss from whence you came!” He drove his sword deep into the center of the avatar’s chest. The creature crumpled to the ground, flames sputtering as its essence began to fade.

“Fools!” it hissed weakly. “Your victory means nothing. The people of Norrath have not yet begun to suffer!” The avatar collapsed into a smoldering pile of ash.

The ranger touched the pendant at his neck and calmed the storms overhead.

“What did it mean?” asked the leader of the knights. “What suffering is yet to come?”

The ranger didn’t reply. He drew his sword, the blade inlaid with ancient runes. He offered it to the knight. “For your service, I give you Maelstrom, Blade of Storms. It will serve you well.”

The ranger turned and walked slowly toward the gates of Qeynos, stepping carefully over the bodies of the fallen that lay all around him.

The monk unleashed all his fury on the avatar, striking him down with a final blow. The Avatar of War slumped to the ground, defeated. The monk knelt on the ground to recover and heal his wounds.

An armored rider on a black horse reached the top of the summit and dismounted. He walked to the body of the fallen avatar and lifted the sword from its lifeless hand. The blade burned with unholy fire as the dark knight held it aloft.

“D’Lere!” the monk called out. “That sword doesn’t belong to you.”

The Overlord removed his helmet to reveal a scarred, smirking face. “Of course it does, fool,” he replied. “Soulfire is now where it was always meant to be. I thank you for bringing it to me, and for delivering the true enemies of Freeport to justice.”

“True enemies? What do you–”

Lucan walked to the edge of the plateau and faced the army below. “Citizens of Freeport,” he called out in a booming voice that carried across the battlefield, “your Overlord has brought you victory this day! Now is the time to bring justice to the criminals who have returned to our lands! Turn your swords against the Knights of Truth and the Priests of Marr and let none of them escape!”

“Are you insane?” the monk asked angrily. “You have a chance to wipe out the rest of the orcs, but you’d rather feed your petty desire for revenge?”

Lucan laughed as he donned his helm again. He climbed atop the black steed and pointed the edge of Soulfire toward the monk. “Be grateful I let you live, Avatar. Don’t think I have forgotten our history. I suggest you return to the desert and show your face in my kingdom no more.” He turned the horse and rode down the side of the plateau.

The monk stood wearily. “It never changes,” he told himself. He clenched his fist and hoped he wasn’t too late to aid the followers of Marr who had risked their lives by trusting him.

The ranger wandered the battlefield looking for survivors. There were so many fallen, so many who had lost everything for this cause.

He saw a barbarian kneeling on the ground, her face stained with dirt and tears. She cradled the fallen man in her arms, rocking him gently back and forth. His armor was cracked by arrows that stuck out from his lifeless chest.

“Are you injured, milady?” The ranger asked softly.

The barbarian looked up at him. “Murbeck chased after the orcs, even though I told him we’d already beaten them. He didn’t notice the archers taking aim. He never saw the arrows coming.” She dropped her head and sobbed.

The ranger looked down. He had no solace to give, no answer for her pain. He knew that soon he would leave this realm, and that it would be left to mortals like her to prepare for what was to come.

“You fought well, my husband,” she whispered to him. “You died as a Halasian, and one day your name will be sung in the great halls of our people. You will never be forgotten.”

The ranger swallowed hard and turned away, leaving the barbarian to her sorrow. The price was too high, he thought to himself. And this was only the beginning.