Battles Part 7


In the Eastern Deadlands


The Moon was at its Zenith. The huge battle had been going on for hours. The horrific amount of thorned elder dark power flowing up through the crypt in the Eastern Deadlands suddenly somewhat abated. Istaria began calling to those Gifted from other realms to the place of battle to assist in stopping the black flow of power to the green clouds of the WA above. The numbers in the attacking Gifted grew, as the onslaught became more vicious and terrifying.

Upon their rebirth in their round of battle before the next attack, Lovwyrn, Flameous, and Lunalove heard an ever so faint sound in the ethereal distance. They stepped back from the carnage looking at each other. Something was very wrong. Lovwyrm gave the orders. The entire family of Gifted retreated back from the swirling mass of fighting and death.

Nyrevin, the Goddess of Death and Rebirth, whom had been assisting the Gifted approached the Nimrod Family at the fringe of the engagement. A huge tendril of thorned power slashed down at her turning to dust when it make contact. When the Elder Gifted died at this battle field she was in command. Once the battle commanders were resurrected then they once again took charge. She was able to raise large groups far faster than the Gifted normally expect. When the dead were raised by the Goddess they were resurrected on the fringe of the battle field. They were resurrected so quickly their prior bodies had not faded.

A Divine implacable force, she did not show her true visage underneath her dark cowled grey robes, nor pause in pace until she reached the Nimrod family.

She addressed Lovwyrm, “Istaria has told Galderos the God of War that ye have been given alternative duties elsewhere if ye wish and are released from this place. Now you oh Family of Nimrod must decide to go or to stay. Know ye this, the great heir to the Ancient Dragon Zadora from long ago is dying. To Chiconis ye must fly if you choose to save the little one. The Crystal Guardian there is in need of your help. The Prophecy of Zadora concerning the little hatchling must come to fruit. Istaria has chosen the Nimrod Family to care for the little one till the Guardian's duties allow the hatchling's return. The duties of the Guardian will far surpass the duration of this night into the future. Let there be no doubt Gifted Ones,-this-Great Crystal Guardian will allow the death of all of the Prime and Divine realms for the sake of the one! Therefore decide now! ”

With the mighty beat of Gifted Dragons wings the sixteen rose rapidly knowing time was of the essence. They could clearly hear the voice of Nyrevin shouting, “Fly Drulkar's children Fly!”

“We shall meet at the lair for those who cannot fly.” bellowed Lovwyrm, while Flameous relayed the orders to the bipeds of the family.

Just arriving, William Swann began drawing and releasing his arrows into the tentacle like shoots of dark power. His arrival had been delayed many times with this or that and he was intent on gathering a bit of the glory of this battle for himself. He was Gifted after all. This would be the fight all would discuss in the decades to come and he was determined to be a part of this historical Gifted defense of the lands.

Turning to William Swann, a Gifted ELAR from Hemji, part of the Annatar Guild, Nyrevin shouted, “ William Swann your duties lie elsewhere.” When she realized the young ELAR was ignoring her she advanced to him in a fury.

Trying to ignore her, William tracked the disturbance in the desecrated soil getting closer and closer. The terrible power was about to erupt thru the ground. He knew that if he timed it ever so carefully he could obliterate the whole thing. His arrow tip slowly dropped, as he drew back the Thornwood bow.

Slightly to his right, Nyrevin stopped knowing exactly what he was going to do and why. She also knew Knossos had called for him to go to his plot. Things were getting out of hand there and Istaria had given very specific instruction about what was to be done. The were also some other side issues, but as William Swann was not of one her children, she did not know what they were.

She addressed him emphatically and officially, “William Swann, adopted Gifted child of Wind Dancer who is mate and wife to Skirnir Ouija Glada, member of the Annatar, you are released from these duties and sent home.”
Drawing a symbol in the air, she slammed the butt of her staff on his foot. Startled William released his arrow early at an angle to the ground, as he vanished. He disappeared in a blink of Dryad's wing beat. Skirnir seeing his adopted son disappear, ran over to Nyrevin hopping over the bodies of the Gifted as he ran.

Skirnir irritably snapped at Nyrevin, “Goddess where is my adopted son, I had given him orders to come and fight here.”

Nyrevin slowly looked The Gifted Dwarf up and down before replying, “Istaria contacted me after Knossos contacted her and I sent him home to his plot.”

Skirnir replied, “And Istaria told me he was to fight, nor has Knossos contacted me. You presume much Goddess of Life and Death, to interfere with the affairs of the Gifted. You have a place here and we understand why Istaria called you here. One of the biggest reasons this night has occurred is due to the complacency and laxity of the Divine Realms over the last few hundred years. As far as I am concerned, you and other ever so Divine entities, are just working off a debt OWED.”

“IF you think so much of your importance oh Mortal Gifted one then ask HER yourself!” responded Nyrevin angrily.

“In fact I think I will oh mighty Goddess of Life and Death of Non-Gifted Mortal affairs,” retorted Skirnir sarcastically. He lifted up both arms with a sublime expression of serenity on his face. Suddenly Skirnir seemed to hunch over then holding his hands to his temples he screamed. Hearing the shout of agony of an elder Gifted one, the throng of Gifted and those Gifted newly arrived pulled back.

Whirling he pointed at Nyrevin shouting, “Run fool, You are needed elsewhere! The Dark Elder Gods has disturbed more than they know!”

Nyrevin's eyes began to widen in fear. No longer focusing on the Gifted One called Skirnir, she saw the horrific sight in the grand ethereal distance, as the realms began to merge further. She only had to jump and her feet were in the Divine Reality. Leaving the Gifted behind in the Prime without further thought, she took out a glowing harp and began singing as she ran with her heart racing trying to keep the fear from warping the Divine melody of slumber. She could see the other Divinities running to the same goal. Istaria must never awaken lest the world end as HER dream of life came to a conclusion.

The Embodiment of Magic was beginning to moan and groan in a bed of endless slumber in her dreams of life. The pain was gathering in a nightmare of corruption decimating her dreaming of the love in life. The great balance had finally been disturbed. Her eyelids began to flutter. A resounding whimper throughout the realms became a scream of anguish. The oceans had begun raging. Earthquakes rolled across the lands of the Prime and all the realms connected. Where there was desert it thundered and rained. Where there were swamps heat blistered the land causing spontaneous fires. The silent volcanoes rumbled as before an eruption.

Skirnir drew upon himself the School of the Knight of Creation. He called for a Gifted Half Giant to lift him up. He knew this fight had to come to an immediate end. They the Gifted ones were needed elsewhere. The Embodiment of Magic had granted him a frightening vision. He called out to the Gifted, “The great Mother of us all is beginning to awaken. This battle must END in this place. We are needed elsewhere! Grant me of your own free will oh Gifted ones of all realms and all times all that ye are and share what I have been given.”

The Gifted did not move as the great ropes of evil increased in their power. One by one the Gifted sheathed their weapons and laid their hands on their brothers and sisters next to them. Seven thousand Gifted began to slowly glow with golden flames, as they transferred all that they were to others, who in turn gave others, finally arriving to Skirnir. Empowered by the Gifted Ones and the eternal magic of Istaria he wove the Glyph of Power in the air. The Gjallerhorn appeared in his right hand as he shared his Divine vision. Drawing a great breath he blew the horn of the most ancient of Gods. All that were asleep were awakened. The bindings on the honorable dead were released as the Gates to the Summerlands were opened. The uncorrupted dead and their ancient armies sprang out of their Divine confines with standards raised and horns blowing. The Elder Gods of Light were awakened. They boiled out of their dreams attacking their ancient enemies in the Divine lands. Drulkar, God of Fire, called upon his brethren in the Plane of Fire having only just recently received the plea of a particular hatchling related to himself from days of old. The journey to Istaria would be a long one.
The trials of the Gifted would truly begin this night. For the Gifted there were no further decisions. Now the mortals and their battles would decide the Tapestry of Destiny for all.



The Twilight of the Gods had begun.