Second Strike - Part One

[Mentarch]

Flying high and proud in the skies of Aetheria, the dracolich named Guulzhor felt elation and excitement.

It had been so long since the last time he had felt in such a way!

Roaring with pride, he surveyed with his keen, lifeless eyes the city that was his target. He was not overly enthused about this meager trade city (What was it called? Oh yes - Avendell). However, his lord and master Primus had released him on this glorious day to destroy this Avendell and all of its inhabitants.

Yet, Guulzhor the Mighty knew he deserved a more worthy target for his insatiable desire to reap chaos, destruction and death.

After all, why waste his seeming limitless pool of power on small pickings?

Hence, the dracolich made a decision: he would prove to Hierarch Primus his glorious worth by attacking the biggest city of this world - Neversummer City!

Sweeping down with the winds, the dracolich landed with grace before the gates of the capital of the Last Alliance. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he quickly killed the guards and half-celestials on watch at the gates. He also made quite a short work of a ghaele commander.

Then at last came the first of the so-called champions of this world. This is what Guulzhor expected and very much anticipated - for he longed to test his might anew against worthy adversaries.

To his pleasure, the less than half-dozen fools who showed up against him busied themselves more at attacking each other than meeting him head-on. With a dry chuckle (something which, for him, constitutes the same as a bellow of unfettered amusement and hilarity), he bore into the hapless and foolish champions ... again making short work of his victims.

"Is this all there is with those feeble mortals?" He wondered, not without a little measure of delight. Then a dark, pleasing thought occured to him: "Well, then! Why wait for my two brethren to be given the call to fly, when I alone could destroy every single city on this world just on this one night -and so easily at that?"

Then surely he, Guulzhor the Mighty, would reap all the glory and approval of his lord and master!

Gleeful and smug, he effortlessly jumped over the gates of Neversummer City to land in the middle of the city's Mercantile District. Again he swiftly and effortlessly killed anyone unfortunate enough to walk the streets - guards, half-celestials and normal citizens alike.

Then the champions came back, their numbers increased somewhat - nonetheless, the dracolich swifly made short work of the disorganized mortals.

Satisfied and now bursting with confidence, he jumped anew - this time landing in the Greystone District. Again he killed one and all there, citizens and defenders alike.

He then casually sat in the Center Circle of the District, in order to wait.

For he had formulated a most cunning and devious plan: "Let all of those puny champions come to me! I will get rid of them in one easy sweep, thus leaving way for me to destroy all the other cities at my leisure!"

And so more champions came. To the dracolich's cruel delight, the same dance was being enacted as when he attacked the city gates and the Mercantile District: champions carelessly seeking to be the first to strike at him, while at the same time seeking to kill champions from other factions who had come for the same purpose.

So again, Guulzhor effortlessly bore down on the disorganized and divided champions, with the same result: overwhelming carnage.

Then more came - and again would Guulzhor stand gloriously victorious in the Center Circle of the Greystone District.

However, as yet more and more champions arrived to face him in battle, the dracolich noticed that something was gradually changing ...

At first, he dismissed this feeling as nothing more than paranoia on his part. Why should he worry or even be wary? He kept making such easy killings on this night!

But what was happening was that the champions had begun to put aside their factional differences and began working together in a more coherent and organized manner.

It was then that the tides of battle had shifted irrevocably ... in disfavor of the Mighty Guulzhor.

For now, the dracolich was being attacked simultaneously at every level - physically and magically, with arcane as well as divine spells. And where one or two magic weapons or powerful fists did little but scratch him, dozens of such strikes at the same time actually hurt him!

It was then only a matter of time for Guulzhor, and he had realized it at last.

And as the final blows and spell discharges hit him to destroy his immortal, undead, boney shell, his very last thought took the form of an incredulous question followed by an outraged denial of his Fate:

"How? How did they manage to unite? This can not be! This was never supposed to happen! Nooooooooo - ****"

Thus flew -and fell- the dracolich known as Guulzhor the Mighty.

[Mentarch]

At first he had been greatly aggravated by the dracolich's minor disobedience.

Not that it was unexpected, although this immediately after being given the permission to fly had taken him somewhat by surprise.

But seeing through his viewing pool the effortlessness of Guulzhor in dispatching champion after champion, first at the gates of Neversummer City and then in the city's Mercantile District, the aggravation Hierarch Primus felt for his pet dissipated rather quickly ... being gradually replaced with pleasurable satisfaction.

Standing to his side and likewise gazing into the viewing pool with their lifeless eyes, his other two pets followed the progress of their brethren with an obvious mixture of excitement and jealousy. Yet neither said a word.

Then Guulzhor entered the Greystone District on his continued rampage.

Hierarch Primus could naught but feel elated, for everything he had surmized about those so-called champions of Aetheria was being proven true. Their ingrained factious bickering and outright hostility was proving to be their undoing, being incapable of working together in any organized fashion to mount an effective front against the immensely powerful dracolich.

Primus even laughed outright when a couple of those champions decided to exploit the chaos and destruction being wrought by Guulzhor as a diversion to once again partake in this strange ritual of relic raiding, having rightly guessed that those champions dedicated in defending the relic cradle of the Last Alliance would be overwhelmingly occupied by the dracolich.

And so, for at least an instant, Hierarch Primus came to believe that Guulzhor could actually take on each and every city on this night by himself!

But right there and then, the so-called champions did the unexpected, if not actually the unthinkable: they put aside their factious bickering and united as an organized front against Guulzhor the Mighty.

Fuming, Hierarch Primus turned off his viewing pool with a brusque wave of the hand a mere moment before the inevitable fall of the dracolich.

"Guulzhor was ever the least powerful of us three, as well as the most brash one. He should have contented himself with Avendell, as you ordered him." Trelanax the Merciless rumbled, his tone oozing with confidence and certainty. "What just happened to him will not happen to me, or to Obliviox, my Lord and Master Primus." He added with finality.

"Aye, my Lord and Master." Obliviox the Scourge mused in agreement. "Guulzhor made the mistake of being over-confident and of giving time for those foolish mortals to organize - however much unexpected this turn of event might have been. Neither Trelanax nor I would make such an evident tactical mistake."

Hierarch Primus simply nodded in acknowledgement of their words.

"I agree, my pets." He replied at lenght. "But now those foolish champions are buyoed by this victory - nonetheless, the state of things will quickly return to normality and their faction hostilities will renew quickly enough - and I'd wager with greater intensity at that, if only to make up for this abhorent single instance on unity amongst them."

Primus then chuckled coldly at that.

"Yes." He mused with satisfaction. "Let them return to their foolish ways while at the same time lowering their readiness by the too-numerous distractions provided by their factious bickerings. I will give them time to almost forget that two more of you remain on Aetheria, ever ready to fly on my orders." He nodded to himself in affirmation of his reasoning.

"Hence, you two will have to be patient evermore." Primus added with decisiveness. "A sevenday from tonight, the two of you will fly!"

The dracoliches bowed their heads in acceptance of their Master's pronouncement, barely containing their eagerness and anticipation.

"Sending the two of them at the same time might turn out to be an excercise in overkill somewhat," Primus tought to himself with dark pleasure, "but I must make sure that those foolish champions never think of uniting again, let alone being given the chance to organize."

"... and in the meantime," Primus went on in his thoughts, "I must prepare for my fall-back plannifications. Blade and Commander Leona should have nearly completed their preparations and should be ready to act on my orders at a moment's notice. In fact, Blade has already begun his disruptions and diversions, while Leona is finishing the consolidation of her complete hold over the Avendell Watch. Then, there is also Mistress Ataxia and her rebel forces, standing at the ready. And of course, others more remain hidden, ready to strike at my orders. Yes ... despite this set-back brought about by the fall of Guulzhor, my Plan remains whole and the ultimate victory will be mine in the end."

Chaos, destruction and death will indeed be sown throughout Aetheria in a sevenday hence ... and in the meantime as well as beyond after that, if necessary.