
	"There is only one solution: Destroy them all." Rallos Zek's burning eyes moved disdainfully from one god to the next, hoping his harsh edict had convinced more of them to take his side. It had been countless ages since virtually all the gods had gathered together like this, and he did not intend to miss the opportunity to expand his influence. "I maintain that this would be an overreaction," Tunare said, shaking her head. The mortals need our guidance, not our wrath. We should inspire them and strengthen the spirituality within them, not snuff it out." "You mean your precious elves?" Rallos countered. "Did they need your guidance as their greed soiled your plane, murdering your servants in their lust for power and wealth? Attacking the very manifestation of your being as if you were a boar for the slaughter?" She scowled and shook her head. "That is your influence at work, Rallos. It was only when they breached the Planes of Power that you lost the delight you had taken in their growing viciousness." "We all agree that the mortals have gone too far," Brell interjected, sensing the need to interrupt before the argument dragged on further. "But surely the answer isn't to wipe away all our handiwork. After all, it is only a few races that have committed offenses worthy of such action. Perhaps a selective pruning is in order rather than complete annihilation." Solusek Ro shook his head. "I must agree with Rallos on this matter. Wipe them out; it is the only way." "The solution is obvious," interjected Cazic-Thule. "If my influence were allowed to grow, the mortals would not be in a position to challenge us. Fear will keep them in check, as it always should have." Karana scowled. "Preposterous. It has been proven that any one of us alone can be overcome by the mortals. It is underestimating them that has brought us to this place, that has forced us to become allies in action if not in principle. But the solution must be one that we can all agree to." "How can you be so blind?" Rallos growled. "How can you not see that the mortals must be made to pay for their insolence?" "You ignore the honor in their hearts," Mithaniel Marr countered. "They have earned the right to exist, to ascend to greatness." "Greatness?" Innoruuk cackled gleefully. "Leave them to their own devices and they will devour themselves in jealousy and hatred. The solution is not for us to kill them, but to step aside and let them feed upon each other." "We don't have time for that," Solusek Ro asserted. "The demi-planes are already weakened--in fact, some have simply faded from existence, as our powers have grown too thin to sustain them. We must refocus our resources and strike back while we still can." Quellious had listened to the bickering for what seemed like ages. Though time had no meaning for them in this place, she could bear to listen no longer. She spoke softly, yet with a directness that silenced the others. "I propose a compromise," she said, her gaze moving from one god to the next. "It will not be ideal for any of us, and it does not come without risk. But I feel it is the only way to satisfy all our objectives and restore balance between us and the mortals." Bristlebane perked an ear. "Speak, please, for this endless debate is maddening even for me." Quellious continued. "We all agree the mortals have gained too much power, but there are non-destructive ways to correct this. There is also a way for us to regain our strength, though it means removing our influence from this world for a time. But if we all agree--including those who sit upon the greater wheel of Elemental Power--it could save us all." "Speak, Tranquil One," Xegony said, breaking her long silence. "We will listen to your proposal." Quellious nodded. "It is through their unity that the mortals initially became strong. The first thing we must do is to disrupt that unity…" When Quellious had finished, Erollisi Marr nodded. "It would be an acceptable compromise." "Agreed," her twin brother added. "It does not matter to me," Innoruuk grinned, "for I still believe that the mortals will destroy themselves eventually." Brell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I will do as you suggest." The Faceless shrugged. "It seems like a waste of time, but I will follow the wishes of this council." Tunare sighed sadly. "I will do what you ask in order to make this work." Fennin Ro spoke for the first time since he had entered the chamber. "The rulers of the Elemental Planes will abide by this decision." One by one the other gods either agreed or said nothing, nodding silently. Quellious eyed Rallos Zek as he whispered something to Solusek Ro. The Prince of Flame shook his head. "We agree," the god of War said at last. "When does it begin?" "In seven mortal days' time, we will act as one. Will that be long enough to do what is needed?" "It will," Solusek Ro said coldly. Tunare nodded with reluctance. "Then it is agreed," the Tribunal spoke in a single voice. "This council stands adjourned." The gods began to leave the chambers, but Quellious lingered. She noticed as Rallos approached Cazic-Thule and began to whisper something to him, and watched as Solusek Ro did the same to Brell. Tunare stood next to her. "Is this really the only way?" "I believe it is," Quellious responded softly. "But I think we need to remain watchful, as not everyone may honor the intent of this pact." Karana approached the two goddesses. "I have some trepidation in this matter, and I'd wager you feel the same." "I do," replied Quellious. "But I have another proposal to share with the two of you to ensure our interests are preserved." As the three gods left the council chamber together, Rallos Zek eyed them loathingly. He muttered to himself. "So, Quellious, you have your allies and I have mine. But your weakness will be your downfall. Let the endgame begin."


	The old man stood in the kitchen of his small home and faced the window, cleaning the dishes from supper while watching the orange glow of sunset gradually descend upon the Commonlands. He loved this twilight time and the calm it brought to the countryside--a rare commodity these days. With Freeport having grown so much over the years and as more and more people built their homes in the surrounding area, tranquility was in short supply. He finished with the dishes just as the sun sank behind the hillside. His bones ached slightly as he sat down near the firelight, closing his eyes and letting the warmth drift over him. Just as his masters in the Ashen Order had taught him so many years ago, he cleared his mind and began to meditate. His eyes opened when he heard the knock at the door. It would have startled him had it not been so soft, so rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat. He stood and moved to the doorway, pausing to collect himself. While the Commonlands had become much safer these days, it would not be the first time some brigand had tried to take advantage of a seemingly helpless old man. He flexed his fist and smiled. Yes, the magic was still there if it was needed. He nodded silently to himself and opened the door. The old man froze. He recognized her instantly, even though he had never set eyes on her before. She was just a small girl, but she glowed with a radiance and warmth that put the firelight to shame. A sense of peace emanated from her, touching him deep inside. Tears welled in his eyes and he swallowed hard, his mouth unable to speak. She looked up at him and gave him a slight smile. Her voice was like a soft, lingering melody as she spoke. “Hello, disciple.” He realized he was trembling, despite the sense of belonging that flowed through every cell of his being. He knelt to the ground before her, his voice nearly a whisper. “Is it time to go now? To pass beyond this veil and make my home in Tranquility at last?’ She reached out and took his hand, her smile bathing him in warmth. She shook her head. “No, disciple, you cannot rest just yet. I have need of you, now more than ever. Rise and walk with me, for my time here is short and there is much that I must tell you.” He obeyed her instantly, following as she guided him out the door. The land around them was perfectly still, glowing with a kind of preternatural light that allowed him to see and sense everything around him. He breathed deeply and smelled every flower all at once. Suddenly he felt foolish for being filled with such a sense of wonder. Of course she could do this. She could bring forth the serenity from any place. She kept hold of his hand as they walked. Her voice was soft yet clear. “Troubled times lay ahead, disciple. We stand on the threshold of change, and whether this will come to good or ill I do not know. The future is clouded, even to me. Soon turmoil will fall across the lands. Events have been set in motion that cannot be undone, and dark things will come to pass. My presence will no longer be known here, and strife will take my place.” “No, my mistress, this cannot be,” he pleaded urgently. “Norrath needs your guidance and light. I need it too, so very much.” She shook her head slowly. “These things are written and cannot be changed. That is why I have come for you. It is time for you to fulfill your destiny and help your world. You must pass down my teachings, and prepare this land for the perils ahead.” He fell to his knees in front of her and bowed his head. “I am yours to command, mistress.” She laid her hands upon his shoulders and spoke, her voice full of kindness and peace. “Then, arise, disciple, and accept your destiny.” He took a deep breath and stood. The ache in his joints was gone and his vision seemed somehow sharper. The wrinkles on his hands had faded, and he felt a new strength surge within them. “The veil of age has passed away. Your body shall be renewed by my strength now, for as long as you serve me.” He bowed his head and spoke, his own voice somehow new and different. “Thank you, mistress. What duty now lies before me?” “You will be my presence in this land, disciple. You will preserve the ways of Tranquility and teach my principles as the world drifts toward despair. You will be my voice when I must be silent.” He nodded. “I will do this gladly and with great honor, mistress. All the lands of Norrath and the skies above will know your teachings.” She grew quiet a moment, her eyes looking toward the moon of Luclin as it glowed brightly above them. Her brow furrowed slightly. “There is more to tell, and time is short. Walk with me, Avatar of Tranquility, and hear my words.” She reached out her hand to him and he took it, walking with her into the cool calm of evening. As their footsteps led him farther still from his old life, he knew his true purpose at last. This was an ending and a beginning, a goodbye and a hello. The night was quiet and still. It would not remain that way much longer.


	Ayenden concluded his business in the Bazaar and strolled into the Nexus. The usual crowd of travelers was passing through, and Ayenden thought he might look around for some familiar faces with which to seek adventure. He caught sight of an old friend standing atop the platform. “Enkasha,” he called out. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.” The tall, serene Erudite saw him and smiled slightly. Ayenden knew this was the extent of the emotion she was likely to show. She walked down the stairs and greeted him. “You are correct, my friend. I am indeed overdue for the festival. I was exploring the planes with my guild mates, which took far longer than I had anticipated. I am certain to be chided for my tardiness.” “It sounds like a glorious occasion for your people,” Ayenden said. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to take me along as a guest?” Enkasha rolled her eyes and sighed, a gesture Ayenden knew to be playful rather than demeaning. “You know full well that the celebration of the anniversary of Erud’s birth is a sacred and private ritual for us. Outsiders are never allowed to attend.” “Yes, you told me before,” Ayenden muttered. “I hope you will tell me the details later, at least. I’m sure this eighth centennial will be quite an occasion. Who knows, one of you might even tell a joke.” Enkasha sighed again, but the faintest of grins betrayed her amusement. “It shall indeed be special, though not for the reason you posit. But enough of this chatter; I must see the scion about teleportation to Odus.” Before he could respond, Ayenden’s attention was drawn to a commotion atop the Nexus platform. The air itself seemed to crackle and sputter as a vortex of energy began to swirl. “What in the name of Tunare is that?” Enkasha turned and watched, her eyes narrow. “Something is teleporting into this chamber.” Ayenden shook his head slowly. “That is no ordinary spell. Someone is opening a doorway to this place, and is expending a great amount of energy to do so.” He muttered the beginnings of an incantation, his eyes fixed upon the growing vortex. “I think perhaps you should be visiting that scion now, my friend.” “Nonsense,” Enkasha protested. “Who else will defend a fragile old wizard like you?” She cast a spell to summon forth a fiery pet and commanded it to stand in front of her. The swirl of energy on the platform above them was expanding rapidly. “You pick a curious time to develop a sense of humor, milady. Not that I’m ungrateful, but I really must insist that--“ Ayenden gasped as the portal opened and dark, massive beings began to rush through it. “The Diaku!” he shouted in disbelief. “Get back, Enkasha!” The huge, heavily armored soldiers poured through the opening with weapons drawn. They stormed down the stairway toward the crowds that had gathered and began to attack. “What are they doing outside the Plane of Tactics?” Enkasha cried out. Instinctively she bolstered her pet and ordered it forward as a soldier charged her. The Nexus was now flooded with adventurers from the Bazaar and Shadowhaven, but more Diaku continued to charge out of the gateway. “There are so many!” she exclaimed. “We cannot stop them.” “Let me translocate you away, Enkasha,” Ayenden pleaded. “Now is the time for neither jokes nor pride.” “No, I will stand here and defend this place,” she countered, healing her pet as it fought against a Diaku swordsman. “But you must go and warn others. We need reinforcements.” “I will not leave you!” Energy bolts flew from his fingertips as more planar invaders kept coming. “Which of us is being prideful? You must go, and go now. I think something else is coming through the portal.” From behind the Diaku came tall beings whose very heads seemed to be made of fire, their massive weapons burning with the arcane power of their master. “By all the gods!” Ayenden hissed. “Those are the servants of Solusek Ro. And they seem to be carrying a massive gem of some sort with them.” Enkasha was pouring all her strength into her pet, struggling against the assault of the Diaku. “There can be no more delay. We need help, Ayenden. Go now!” He wanted desperately to stay by her side but knew that she was right. Ayenden cast his gate spell and waited for it to spirit him away. “I’ll be back soon. Stand fast, my friend.” As reality began to shimmer around him, he saw a Diaku archer take aim at Enkasha from atop the platform. He tried to call out to warn her, but before he could utter a sound he was gone. The familiar scent of the Faydark filled his nostrils, instantly replacing the stench of burning air that had permeated the Nexus just moments before. Teleportation was always vaguely disconcerting, but no more so than this night. He turned and sprinted down the pathways he had learned so well in his youth. At last he caught sight of the guards outside the grand city of Felwithe. “Sound the alarm!” he shouted. “The Nexus is being attacked!” Ayenden charged past the various people milling around the open gate and ran inside. He had to tell the paladins to gather their forces. This invasion may take an entire legion of knights to repel. The captain of the guard walked toward the wizard, flanked by his lieutenant. “What is this attack you speak of? Tell me quickly.” Ayenden gulped for air as he told the captain what had transpired. The captain considered the wizard's words for a moment, then turned to his lieutenant. “Send word to the king of what is transpiring. Tell him we may need additional reinforcements. I will bring a squadron with me to hold these beings back.” The lieutenant saluted and marched quickly down the corridor. The captain pointed back toward the city gate. “Meet me outside. I must gather my forces, and then we will need you to take us to the Nexus.” Ayenden nodded and ran back outside. After what seemed an eternity, the captain and his guard arrived, accompanied by additional wizards. “Weave your magic and take us to the Nexus,” the captain ordered. Ayenden began to cast immediately, and as he chanted the spell he felt the familiar gathering of energy around him and his passengers. But suddenly the gate collapsed and the spell was broken. Ayenden cursed to himself and began to cast again. This time his power seemed lessened, despite the fact that he had been meditating for the last several minutes. He looked at the captain and shook his head. The captain turned to his wizards. “You take us there,” he ordered. They began to cast, but their spells fizzled as well. “I cannot explain this,” one of them said aloud. The others were just as baffled. “We must go to the spires. The scion can take us there,” Ayenden pleaded. The captain nodded and ordered his soldiers forward. This run seemed far longer to Ayenden than the last one had, but finally they reached the gigantic forest spires. He knew something was wrong before they got there. The familiar hum was gone, and the scion stood alone at the center of the spires. “What is it? What has happened?” Ayenden cried out. “Tell us!” The scion looked around helplessly. “They’re dead,” he said softly. “The spires are silent.” Ayenden stood, his mouth agape. He looked up at the sky, feeling more lost than he could ever remember. He thought of his friend so far away. “I’m sorry, Enkasha,” he whispered to the clinging darkness of the night. “I’m so sorry.”


	Urduuk woke up feeling much the same way. More, perhaps. Definitely not less. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, noticing that Karna was cooking breakfast. He shook his massive head. "How is it that we live like this?" he asked aloud. "What?" she grunted back at him. "Live like what?" "This place," he said, rising to his feet, "it's nothing more than a jumble of rocks with some crude rugs on the floor. Yet we've lived like this for years and never thought twice about it. Doesn't that seem odd to you?" Karna was baffled. "This place is our home. Oggok is as it has been all of our lives. I don't understand this sudden... change in your thinking." "Dissatisfaction, you mean? Don't you feel it, Karna? Don't you feel something rising up within you? It's as if a fog has slowly been receding and my mind understands things for the first time. We are a race of kings, Karna. Once we held all of Norrath in the palm of our hand. Yet for centuries our people have lived in a city that is nothing more than a shambling pile of stones and rotting vines. Doesn't that seem ridiculous to you? Doesn't that seem absurd?" She bared her teeth and slowly shook her head. "My mind... it's fuzzy, Urduuk. It scares me a little. I know of what you speak, but still... it's like I'm trudging slowly through deep water. I want so much to move faster, but I simply cannot." He wrapped his huge arms around her and pulled her close to him. "I'm sorry, my love. I do not mean to upset you. But I can see it in myself and in the others. I can hear it in the way we speak. Something about us is changing, Karna. We are not what we once were." "I think you are right, Urduuk," she said, almost vulnerably. She squeezed him because it made her feel better to do so. He kissed her brow. "That's enough nonsense out of me for now. What about that breakfast?" "Pathetic," he muttered angrily to himself. Then, to the old man, "Are you sure this is all of them?" The silver-crested ogre slowly shook his head. "I have told you twice already that it is. We simply have not kept many written records of our history, young man. Those scrolls and tablets are all that our shamans have scribed over the centuries." "Ridiculous!" he hissed to himself as the old man sat down. "It's as if our entire civilization has been in a stupor. Stories have been passed down from one generation to the next through the telling, but there is so little concrete information. And this shambles of a library is laughable. Even the cursed frogloks have better books than these." Urduuk pushed the scrolls and tablets away and clenched his fist. "What's that, young one?" the old ogre asked. "Did you find the answers you seek?" "Sadly, I think I have, old one." Urduuk shook his head. "At least, the only answer there is to find." He stood up and walked out of the library, his feet pounding angrily on the crumbled cobblestones of the street. "Be careful how you speak to your chieftain, Urduuk. My word is law here in Oggok." Urduuk held his tongue a moment before speaking again. "I meant no offense, Chieftain Orrek. I simply feel there is a better approach." "My plan is sound. We will expand our farmlands and feed our bellies. We will strengthen our outposts in the Feerrott and ensure that our borders are safe. Oggok will grow and prosper under my hand." "We need to do more than survive! We are not a race of farmers, Orrek. We are a race of warriors and kings. Norrath knew our domination once, and it must know it again. But we will never see that glory if we till the soil like oafish farmhands." "Your tone offends me, Urduuk. Say another word and I'll have you in chains before this assembly." "Assembly? Are you joking? Look around you," he said, gesturing at the crowd in the square surrounding them. "The center of our city is nothing more than broken boulders and fetid ponds. How can this be enough for you?" He looked at the other citizens. "How can this be enough for any of you?" Many of the ogres murmured in agreement. The chieftain sensed the dissent growing around him. "Enough! I lead this city, and I determine its course. This meeting is over." "It is not!" Urduuk growled. "It is time for us to show the courage to embrace our destiny." "Those are the words," announced a deep, booming voice, "that I have waited for one of you to speak." Urduuk turned and gasped, as did the crowd. Out of nowhere a massive figure stood, twice as tall as any ogre, with a thick, imposing frame. It wore dark metallic armor that seemed to faintly glow with power, and a horned helm that hung just above its burning eyes. It was like an ogre but more than an ogre, a creature of power and terror and death. Urduuk stood transfixed for a moment, then stammered a question almost in a whisper. "Lord... Lord Rallos?' "No," answered the voice, echoing throughout the square. "I am not your maker, but rather the one who has remained behind to carry out his will. I am the hand of Zek while he must be absent. And I am the one who will guide you to once again dominate all of Norrath." Urduuk looked over at the chieftain, who stood awed and terrified. Urduuk sneered at him and then turned back to the dark figure. "Avatar of War, emissary of our maker, we live and die at your command. Tell us what to do." A dark smile seemed to cross the being's otherworldly face for a moment. "You will build. You will waste no time growing wheat or baking bread. You will take what you need from others and make this a city fit for kings. You will expand your knowledge and relearn the dark arts lost to you for so long. You will raise a new Rallosian Army that shall conquer the world and wipe out the children of the lesser gods once and for all. This is your destiny, son of Zek. Will you make it yours, or will you wander about the jungle with lizards and toads?" Urduuk stepped forward and stood in front of the avatar. "We will seize our destiny. We will build a new city of Rallos that will be grander than any other on Norrath. One by one the lands of those who oppose us will be burned to the ground. On this you have my blood oath. We will not fail." The avatar reached to his side and drew a runed, flaming blade. He touched it to Urduuk's shoulder and watched as the ogre refused to flinch. The avatar nodded. "You, Urduuk, will be my general. You will lead your people to their rightful destiny. By the touch of Soulfire I ordain this to be so." He sheathed the blade and drew a second weapon from his belt. "This sword was blessed by Vallon Zek and forged in the fires of Drunder. The unholy blade Vel'Arek must drink the blood of the weak, and in turn it will make you strong. Use it to claim what is yours, Urduuk." Urduuk took hold of the massive weapon and felt its weight. It looked as if it would take two hands to wield it, but he could easily swing it with one. It had a long, dark blade with ancient words inscribed down the length of it. He looked up at the avatar a moment, then turned and walked to Chieftain Orrek. "Would you still have us be farmers, chieftain? Would you still have us be weak?" "I... have devoted my life to the service of Zek," he stammered nervously. "I will not fail him." "You are correct, chieftain, for your death shall serve him as well." Urduuk thrust the blade forward suddenly and drove it through the chieftain's chest, staring into the ogre's eyes as he crumpled to the ground. Urduuk withdrew the blade and lifted it to the sky, watching as it seemed to drink in the blood of the fallen chieftain. "This," boomed the voice of the avatar, "is the force of will necessary to rule these lands. Even now my ally, the Avatar of Flame, is bringing this same message to the orc legions. Together the children of Zek will conquer this world and cleanse it of elves and men." "The word of Zek shall guide us, Avatar," General Urduuk proclaimed. "We will build this city and your army. We will learn the dark magics and once again become the masters of this realm." The avatar watched as the ogres knelt before their ruler. Urduuk narrowed his eyes and looked to the east. "And when the time is right," he said with disdain, "Gukta and the wretched frogloks will be the first to fall."


	The ranger’s footsteps made no sound as he climbed toward the summit. No rock was loosed, no twig snapped; it was as if nature itself carried him along his path. He reached the top and saw the monk sitting with his back to him. The monk seemed to be looking out over the landscape, the Plains of Karana to the west and the Commonlands to the east. The ranger approached silently, drawing closer to the one he came seeking. “Welcome, Avatar,” the monk said without turning. “Have the preparations been made?” The ranger stopped and smiled to himself. “The rangers of Surefall stand ready, while the Knights of Thunder are assembling their forces. And you, my friend, have excellent hearing.” “It was not my ears that told me you were coming, I assure you. Your skills are unmatched. Karana chose well.” “I still wonder if that is true,” the ranger replied. “It seems only yesterday that I was merely Askr the Lost, a refugee stranded in a cave in the Plane of Storms. Why would Karana choose someone like me to serve him?” The monk rose and turned toward the ranger. “It is natural to question yourself, especially when there is so much at stake. But just as I must trust in the wisdom of Quellious, so you must trust in the decision of your master. Whatever you once were, you are now the Avatar of Storms, and you have a duty before you.” The ranger nodded. “You are right. Please forgive my doubts. When the time comes, I will do what is needed.” The monk smiled. “I know you will, my friend. May we both prove worthy for the task ahead of us.” “And what of your preparations, Avatar? Will Freeport be ready?” The monk’s brow furrowed. “Though few in number, the Knights of Truth will return to defend the ci