UO Second Age

Zeddar nudged his horse foreward, but the animal seemed disinterested. Instead, the beast walked over and munched on some fresh flowers blooming around the rotted stump of a fallen oak tree. Zeddar sighed, and dismounted. He tied the reins of the horse to a long root, and walked through the thick, slightly rolling grass of the open forest.

The trees here were thinner than those around Yew. Here, the forest had flowed down out of the mountains and highland plateaues and had spilled over onto the flat plains, and the trees had grown farther and farther apart as real estate opened up in the lower altitudes. As he walked among the trunks, Zeddar thought about the recent upheaval in his quiet life. He had somehow found himself the inheritor of a vast estate and the title of Baron from a masked stranger he'd never seen before. Then, Ascher comes back, and a completely different man.

Zeddar cursed, and slammed a fist into his palm. It was frustrating how some parts of his previous lives were so clear, so poignant, and others were so dim he could remember only vague impressions and feelings, but no details at all. His memory was like a book that had been pulled too late from a fire. Parts of pages were clear and legible, but they were fragmented and disjointed parts of thoughts. No clear thread runnign through and connecting it all.

Zeddar stopped suddenly, the hairs along his arms and the back of his neck standing on end. He felt a subtle, slow shifting in the natural balance of power around him. Energy was being drawn in somewhere, he could feel it. Somehow, the feeling felt vaguely familiar, and it tickled the back of his mind persistently. A growing sense of dread and forboding had Zeddar creeping from trunk to trunk, making as little noise as possible.

Ahead, through the trees, and in a small hollow in the sparse forest, the air suddenly twisted, and began to shimmer. Through the gateway, several mounted soldiers rode, then came a few figures in capes and robes. And finally, crashing through the shimmering magical portal, four dragons roared into the quiet forest. Zeddar's blood ran cold, but he knelt slowly beside the trunk of the cedar he'd been behind, and he studied these new comers. There was something familiar about the woman on the tall ostard... Something about the way she held herself, and spoke to the dragons. It was more like addressing a friend than a pet.

Suddenly, Zeddar knew, it was Xandy. And there, that man with the golden armor, that had to be the Lord Captain himself. Zeddar watched, and several times started to rise and to meet his fellow guildmates, but something held him in place. That sense of dread had been growing, as had the energy imbalance he'd perceived originally. So, Zeddar watched as one of the party knelt, and with a few strokes of a pickaxe, he brought up a tattered and rusted chest. The man stepped back, spoke some magic words, and the lid of the chest burst open in a flash of fire and a sudden clap of thunder.

And then, Zeddar felt it, the energy that had been building was released as the chest opened. A new shimmering portal formed in the clearing, but this one was very different. Where the first had been silvery blue in color, and very calm and inviting, this new tear in reality was horrendous. It was a seething pit of pure nothingness laced through with flashes of color that barely registered in the human eye. Zeddar squinted his eyes and turned his head, feeling a sudden wave of darkness wash over him. He heard an unmistakable roar, and when he opened his eyes, a Balron stood in the forest clearing.

The monster's black skin shimmered and rippled as the demon fought to break through its summoner's binding spell. Zeddar was sure of it, a necromancer had pulled this lord of hell into this world through the portal the treasure chest had opened. Whoever it was, this Necromancer was powerful. He wasn't operating anywhere nearby, or Zeddar was sure he would have been able to track him. Zeddar rose to go and help his friends, but still some instinct told him to hold his place. When he looked, the Balron was stumbling through the trees, fleeing two of the dragons and a trio of mounted men with swords and spears raised high. They had the situation well in hand.

So, instead, Zeddar waited. And as he watched, the hidden necromancer pulled seven balrons through the magic of the chest to assault the raiding party from White Harbor. Zeddar was both impressed and terrified. That level of power and exertion spoke to a necromancer who was an ancient and a grandmaster at his craft. And it also meant that there was someone in that party that this Necromancer desperately wanted to destroy.

That meant that Baron Zeddar had to find out who that someone was...and keep them alive at all costs.

And then what happened?

Ascher stepped behind a thick, gnarled oak tree and concentrated. He stilled his mind, and pulled the shadows to him. He felt himself fade into the shadows and thanked the Ranger of Yew who had taught him how to hide in broad daylight.

The Collector of Souls, one of the top lieutenants of Hell, sniffed the air as he walked past the oak. Suddenly, the towering balron stopped, and his head swiveled in a slow, complete circle. For a brief moment, it seemed that the monster's baleful eyes had lingered on Ascher, but finally they moved on. The balron could sense that someone was nearby, if it couldn't see them. Ascher slowed his breathing and concentrated on remaining dim.

Finally, the balron threw back its head and roared a dreadful roar, then it stalked off to the northeast, tracking one of the dragons. Each step the monster took shook the ground beneath Ascher's feet. When the rumbling footfalls of the giant demon faded, Ascher stepped out of the shadows and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

The rest of the treasure hunting party was recovering from the ordeal as Xandy resurrected Draco, the last to be brought back to life. Abigail healed herself quickly, then galloped off in search of her two dragons and the balron.

Ascher counted the glowing swords in his pack. Six balrons had attacked them, and the one still ragin in the woods to the North made seven. He'd never before seen a single chest carry that much power that it could pull so many demon lords into the realm of the living. Something else had to be at work.

"Well, we said we wanted some adventure," Xandy said with a weak smile. Her face was pale, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. She looked thoroughly drained and exhausted from casting so many high-order spells in such a short time.

"There can be too much of a good thing," Draco grumbled, as he rubbed his head in slow circles.

In the distance, they all heard a deep bellow that cut off suddenly. Abigail and her dragons had found the last balron and sent it back to hell. Ascher mentally made another mark in his head....that made seven.

"Xandy, there's something else at work here," Ascher said finally, his suspicion becoming too much to contain, "I mean, have you ever heard of one chest summoning four lesser demons and seven, SEVEN, balrons?"

Xandy shook her head slowly, "No...the most I've heard of is three, and even that many are rare. And now that you mention it, I do feel....odd..."

"What do you mean?" Ashcer asked, leaning forward in his saddle.

"At first I brushed it off as just being tired," Xandy said, "But the feeling is growing. It's like I'm being drained. Like something is pulling the life slowly out of me."

Some of the others in the party nodded, saying they felt it too. Ascher frowned and concentrated on himself for a moment. He felt tired, his arms were exhausted from swinging his kryss and holding his shield. But there was something else too....a gnawing feeling. It was almost as if a great leach were attached to him, but instead of blood it was slowly sucking his spirit dry. Now that he felt it, Ascher felt the cold grip of fear in the pit of his stomach.

"I think we need to leave," Ascher said, "And quickly. Something is attacking us, and if we don't go soon, we'll be too weak to fight whatever it is."

Xandy nodded, and held her hands up. She began to speak the words for a gateway spell, but they caught in her throat. She blinked, swallowed hard, and tried again, but the same thing happened. After a fourth unsuccessfull attempt, Xandy slumped forward in her saddle.

"I can't," She panted, "I'm too weak. I have the mana, and the reagents, but I just can't summon the strength to speak the words."

Draco held up his hands and began to speak, but had the same problem. Finally, after several attempts, he shook his head, his face growing pale. The fear in Ascher turned to panick. He pulled out a Recall scroll, and tried to speak the words inscribed in glowing letters on the parchment. He couldn't even utter a syllable. The power was there, just outside his reach, but even straining as hard as he could, Ascher couldn't cast the spell.

Just then, Abigail rode back into the clearing, her two faithful dragons in tow.

"Abby, can you cast a gate?" Xandy asked, her voice strained.

Abigail looked a little confused, but she shrugged, flipped one hand casually out, and cast the spell on the first try. The rest of the party breathed a collective sigh of relief, and rode through the shimmering blue light of the gateway and into the sunshine of Moonglow City.