The assassin sat alone under a tree in the dark forest of Mir, outside the north gates of the outpost city of Dobluth Kyor. It had been several days since a huge dark form roared over Vhaeraun’s City, shaking the leaves from some of the thickly covered trees. Nilan absently flipped a dark green leaf deftly from one slender finger to the next, pondering the recent events.
It was not perhaps sixteen moons past when he had arranged a meeting between the High Priest of Vhaeraun and the half-elven bardess known as Lilira. The bard had been an ‘ally’ during the war fought against Auzorm’tvorl, and the assassin had learned much of other lands during his travels and dealings with her. Nilan, paused, the leaf standing straight up in between his index and middle finger, as he considered the word “ally”. Though he used the term loosely, he knew his people used the term even looser than he. None the less, his discussions with the lady bard had made him feel uneasy to the point that he feared that what was happening….or not happening as the case may be…could pose a great danger to his people, and perhaps others in these realms. The drow knew the importance of his faith and knew the importance of the survival of his people. With that he brought the information to Him, and to the High Priest of His temple.
The assassin gazed up to the Night Sky as he considered his findings. The leaf once again darting deftly from ebon finger to ebon finger as the drow pondered. The elves of Evermeet had used high magic long ago. From what he understood, it was what might have connected the elven land to Arvendor. High magic forged the two, connected them in some way that the magically untrained assassin could not fathom. How it was held together, Nilan couldn’t begin to understand. But what he did know, was that that magic was failing…weakening in such a way that could very well spell out certain devastation for not only the elves of Evermeet, whom the drow cared little for, but also for the realms itself and that included his people, drow lands.
In his discussion with Vhaeraun’s High Priest, Nilan learned that high magic and divine intervention had secured the magic or mythals that held Evermeet together. What he did know was that, that had occurred long ago when high magic was more plentiful and the gods could take an ‘interest’ in fixing things. Times had changed….high magic was all but extinct from the realms, and the gods, well, other than Vhaeraun, Nilan was certain no others showed much interest in the realms or were strictly abiding to Ao’s edict of non interference.
Then there were the xenophobic elves on Evermeet. Their arrogant queen was doing her best to keep this magic ‘problem’ a secret. The elven queen had cast high magic during the war with Auzorm’tvorl, but could one person do what several powerful mages and gods did years ago? Nilan knew that that was not possible. Nilan also knew that the queen and the elves in their arrogance would not dare speak of the problem nor would they ask others to aid them. They would hide their “magic problem’ from the rest of the realms and attempt to ‘fix’ it themselves. ‘When they failed’, for in Nilan’s mind it was not a matter of ‘if they failed’, they would simply do what the elves of Evermeet do best…..they’d leave and let the rest of the realms, surface and underdark alike, fend for themselves as the lands were destroyed.
Nilan had arranged the meeting with Dlavizz, the High Priest within his temple, and the bard Lilira. Much was discussed. His people had seen the dangers approaching, Dlavizz had stated as much himself, and had spoken on the need to see that the elven magic that was weakening never fail. For if it failed, devastation would soon follow. An offer was made. The bardess, Lilira, had agreed to take the message to the elven queen. An offer of aid. An offer to be sure the elven magic did not fail.
Nilan gazed at the leaves that had just days ago been shaken from the forest trees by the roar of a great dragon. His eyes flashed crimson as he focused on the leaf that flitted from finger to finger in a dexterous dance. Suddenly the dance ended, as the Hand of Vhaeraun closed an ebon fist around the leaf, crushing it between his fingers.
A warning delivered……A warning ignored…..
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