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This is wrong. Do not bend, do not break.

A voice whispered in his head. It was familiar. Who was speaking to him? The thought jolted him back to reality. Lolth was kissing him. The spider queen of the abyss, the seed of evil that had created the drow.

With a cry of anguish, Tyrael pushed her away. Looking quite surprised, the female drow searched her would-be lover’s blue eyes.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to,” she smiled and her red eyes shined.

“No!” Tyrael yelled in disbelief. This female drow had started the descent by betraying all of elven kind. What had he been thinking?

With a confused look, she opened her mouth only to cry out in pain as the cavalier head butted the evil temptress. Normally such a blow would only anger the female, but in her weakened state, Lolth found the pain blinding.

Her head snapped back and she swooned. Why did it hurt so much? He was just an elf. The spell! The wheels in her mind began to turn. She had to release the spell that was weakening them and scrambling her thoughts. She needed her spells.

Still reeling from the blow, Lolth willed the spell to end prematurely.
Tyrael blinked in shock. The crackling black energy that had trapped him disappeared as quickly as it came. His mind started to shake off the affects of the magic before his sluggish muscles.

As if remembering an old friend, Tyrael jumped. The fight! “Your time is at an end Lolth!” he shouted.

The cavalier drew his arm back to punch his pinned foe.
With a mocking smiled, the drow goddess made a kissing motion and she disappeared. His armored gauntlet smashed into the hard clay ground where her face had been.

“No!” he yelled. He had almost won. The cavalier scrambled to get up but fell back on his rump. Amused laughter filled his ears. He managed to reach a sitting position.

Tyrael rubbed his eyes and found Fellfaril laughing. He was still floating there, not quite touching the ground. The angel shook his head in amazement at the mortal.

“That was some fight! There may be hope for you yet champion,” Fellfaril laughed.

“I…it’s over? She retreated?”

“Of course! You didn’t think you would actually kill her did you? Don’t answer that young one! What’s important, is that you won,” the angel winked.

“I didn’t defeat her!” the cavalier protested.

“I watched you do it! I’m not sure if that wish was a stroke of luck or genius, but you sent her running,” the solar chuckled again.

“I doubt I could have continued the fight after being in that magic net for so long,” Tyrael replied and let himself fall onto his back with his arms sprawled out. “I fear my muscles will forever feel like lead,” the golden haired elf laughed.

“Have you forgotten whose company you are in? A simple matter,” the angel floated towards the warrior. With a simple point of his finger, Tyrael felt a warm glow fight the coldness in his limbs. After a minute he felt perfectly fine.

“I feel much better,” he smiled and jumped up.

“As I said dear champion, it was a simple matter. Many things are within my power, and it seems we just might be seeing each other more often that I thought.”

Tyrael smiled and shook his head in amazement at the angelic hero. He stretched his muscles and retrieved his fallen helm.

“Where to now, oh wise and mighty Fellfaril?” Tyrael grinned.

“Well first, we must remove ourselves from this wretched abomination called the abyss,” the angel smiled. “Come, before Lolth sends even more demons after us. Well really you would be on your own, I am forbidden to directly assist you,” Fellfaril winked and motioned across the featureless plain.

Tyrael saw the demons from the earlier combat. Some were watching and waiting for a moment to strike. He even noticed some flying demons slowly circling around inconspicuously.

“Lead the way, to whatever hell awaits me next,” Tyrael chuckled to himself.

“Oh I don’t think our Lord would send you to the hells. Much more trouble than the abyss,” the angelic warrior’s eyes sparkled and Tyrael just laughed.

“Of course not. I’m ready when you are to leave this filthy place.”

“Patience champion.”

With a flourish, Fellfaril waved one arm in front of him and a shimmering blue portal appeared. Tyrael rolled his eyes and smiled. He couldn’t wait to tell Korrin the kinds of things he has been doing. Was his friend even now, training to keep up with him? Would fighting demons and gods give him the edge, or would the Bladesinger create more powerful magic items to better him in combat? The thought made him smile, only time would tell.

Tyrael smiled to no one in particular and leaped into the portal. Fellfaril
was right behind him.

* *

“Your serious?”

“Of course I am! There are many more tales to tell as well,” Tyrael laughed.
He stood in the laboratory of the one and only, Korrin Moonblade. The king pulled up a stool and sat upon it, looking at the various miscellaneous things on the table in front of him. Many different books were opened and marked to a certain page while spell ingredients laid strewn about. The claw of a cat particularly caught his eye.

“Just a moment,” his friend yelled from a storage closet. Korrin came back holding a large book in his hands. The Bladesinger managed to find space on less crowded table across the room.

“I’m done gathering the needed sources. Thanks again,” his companion smiled. He motioned for Tyrael to follow him out of the chamber. The cavalier obliged and watched his friend grab a blue robe from a coat rack and exchange it with the green one he was wearing.

The king looked at him with a questioning stare.

“The green robe is extra insurance when creating new spells or items. An accident in the past has taught me to be prepared. A spell I was crafting went awry and the Arch mage Xzealor was very angry with me,” Korrin grinned.

“Oh? I’m not sure I understand.”

“The spell exploded in my face. In all honesty I was very surprised that it didn’t work.”

“Why was he mad at you? Was he in the laboratory with you?” Tyrael fixed his blue eyes on his friend.

“No, much worse than that. This was before I had the funds to have my own laboratory,” the Bladesinger smirked mischievously and his green eyes shined.
Tyrael laughed heartily and his companion shrugged. “I paid him for the damages,” Korrin grinned again.

The cavalier shook his head and followed Korrin up the stairs. He closed the door behind him and felt it automatically lock in place. The mayor of Safehaven led him through the richly adorned building until they arrived in a much more comfortable room.

Tyrael plopped down on a luxurious pink couch and felt himself sink in. Korrin took a seat opposite him on a very comfortable looking chair with armrests. The mayor put his feet up and sighed in appreciation.

“Would you care for refreshments? No charge of course,” the mage smiled and leaned back.

“I’m fine. So you’ll come then?”

“To the meeting?”

“Yes. I will send out the official invitations in a tenday.”

“And everyone is going to come?”

“That is the plan.”

“Kel? Brisker?”

“Yes and hopefully. You can never tell with dwarves. I might have to specifically add ‘free ale’ to his invitation,” Tyrael grinned.

“Hah! The stores of the elven kingdom would run dry before you quenched the thirst of that one,” the mayor replied with his eyes closed in relaxation.


“You may be right on that account,” Tyrael smiled and leaned back as well.

“He is a king for a reason. Among dwarves, who knows what that means? The loudest? The longest beard? The list of possibilities goes on,” Korrin mused.

Tyrael chuckled. “In any case, they will be there. Will you?”

“Yes I will go. You pester me more than the merchant’s guild,” Korrin’s voice trailed off.

“You really must work too much my friend. Get some rest.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he answered quietly.

“I’ll let myself out then. And try to get those books back to me as soon as you ‘re done with them. Torrcainan might throw a fit if he finds out,” Tyrael mentioned as he walked away.

“Who cares? You’re the king not him. And besides, the elven library is impossibly vast. He won’t notice.”

Tyrael shook his head and laughed. “I’d rather avoid another lengthy discussion about trusting elven secrets to others.”

“Hey, I’m an elf too. A Prince of the Bronzewood even.”

“Of course, but you are the mayor of Safehaven, a different kingdom.”
“But I’ve known you for many years and we are kin. Besides, Safehaven and the Bronzewood have always and will always remain allies.”

“My point exactly dear friend. But enough of this, I too need some rest,” Tyrael nodded, even though his friend had his eyes peacefully closed. “I know it’s only noon, but I have not been in reverie last night.”

Korrin waved his hand and Tyrael took that as his cue to leave. Not only was Korrin his kin, but they had adventured together for many years. That thought reminded him of the dragon. He was already headed towards the west gate so he figured he would mention the news next time they saw each other.

Earlier that day he had met with Ringo Burrowgaurd, the leader of the new settlement called Shylow. The Halfling was actually very pleasant, and very supportive of an alliance. He laughed when he thought of the size of the creature. Tyrael was as tall as the average human, which meant he towered above the four foot fighter. Of course, they sat at a table, but the cavalier wondered just how Halflings went about their business being so short. He shrugged.

The most interesting part of the early morning was when Ringo told him about the dragon. Ringo had a reputation for being a spokesman for Yondalla, a Halfling deity the same rank as Corellon. In fact, the two divine powers were allies. Ringo was aptly nicknamed “The Prophet.”

When Ringo and a small group of adventurers were attacked by giants on the road to Safehaven, Yondalla protected the caravan by possessing a nearby dragon in the guise of an elven warrior. The warrior defeated the giants and then was released from the divine power. Even before Tyrael heard the elaborate description of their savior, he knew it was Deathwing Blackspitter.
His foe was still out there, watching and waiting. He had yet to make his move on Korrin, most likely because he was always so well prepared and guarded.
Tyrael cursed his own memory. I cannot forget to remind him! I hope he has not forgotten such a dangerous enemy in the midst of this war…


------
Havoc


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The following comments are for "Blades of Destiny3"
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