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Primogenitors Fallen from Grace

In the world of Dystoria

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Primogenitors

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I laughed with Leopulus as we discussed our very different perspectives of the universe. He came to this plane twenty years after me at my request. I needed a time dragon to secure the seals on the Oblivion Catalyst. His perspective was so fixated on preserving the temporal order. An Immortal being couldn't comprehend the perspective of the mere mortals I was grooming to inherent Dystoria. I explained to him, perhaps for the sixteenth time that mortals spend their lives trying to improve the world to leave a legacy. Mortals have a perspective of past, present, and future, but their knowledge isn't deep. They learn from the past, live in the present, and look to the future. I was trying to mold his view to lead a fledgling nation named Avalion, though I doubt the nation will last longer than a century. 

Our conversation was cut short by Myran, a wiry fellow that worshipped the Drow god, Elendar. "A-Arbiter," he stammered, clearly out of breath, "there's... a man. He's demanding we swear fealty." I furrowed my brow and made my way past him, holding up a finger to Leopulus, indicating that he should wait a moment while I dealt with the situation. 

At the mouth of our cavern was a man in a cloak and holding a silvered scythe. I'd be lying if I said I recognized anything about the man, though I knew every denizen in the world. "Arbiter!" His voice was loud and rough. "The Veiled One demands you and your people swear loyalty to him." I could feel my face turn into a glare before I could even open my mouth. 

A small voice could be heard in my hesitation. A small Drow girl named Pherya, who had accompanied her father, looked defiantly at the stranger and yelled "We're nobody's servants! The Arbiter wouldn't allow it." My eyes widened instantly. She was right, but I knew she spoke out of turn. 

The figure turned to Pherya and she screamed, his arm pulsing black. I recognized the clerical magic used to inflict wounds. I raced forward and he leapt back. My priority was Pherya, however, and she cried into my arm as I channeled my draconic gift of healing into her. 

"Three days," he declared. "In three days, my master will come. We expect good news." He vanished in a black mist, leaving the cave deafeningly silent, except for the weeping of the little girl. I had healed her, but she was obviously frightened as she hugged me as tightly as she could. I hugged her back as her father, a young Drow man, approached. 

His voice trembled and I could hear in his voice that he was fighting back tears. "What do we do now?" I let out a sigh as I lifted Pherya up and handed her to her father. 

Clearing my throat, I spoke firmly to comfort them, as was my self-imposed job. "I'm sorry. I was hoping to make sure peace reigned here. I hoped this world would be free of the war and senseless killing that's plagued every other plane." I used my magic to open a door to my Demiplane. 

"What are you going to do now?" 

The question caused me to stop in my tracks. It was a good question. I had the feeling I couldn't use diplomacy now. I shook my head. I knew what I was doing to do. "I'm going to bring war and senseless killing to this plane." I continued into the door. 

The demiplane was once a luxurious resting place for my family even though it was only 30 feet in each dimension. It was designed for a family to live in, with a king and twin bed, a fireplace, a small bookshelf filled with leather-bound books, various surfaces for preparing food, and storage areas adorning one corner of this room. I had the storage areas enchanted years before to replenish themselves. The walls are decorated with framed pictures of my wife and daughter, with a third face that seems to be different in almost every picture. My eyes couldn't help but be drawn to what was once the centerpiece, but now was just a burned-out picture frame. 

I shook my head. That wasn't why I was here. I walked to the recliner, remembering old memories of holding my daughter in it. I smiled painfully and reached for the sword hanging above the recliner. The sword was red-bladed with draconic motifs adorning it. As I touched it, I heard his all-too-familiar voice in my mind. "Crallia," he started. I pulled back my hand in recoil. Just hearing my name was like a gut punch. I hadn't heard it in decades. "You know the people need you to continue as the Arbiter." 

I let out a long sigh and shook my head, speaking telepathically. "Right now, Azrael, they don't need a leader. They need a savior. I don't know what dark force approaches, but I know it was strong enough to imbue a cleric." There was a long silence. "I know we have to protect what she gave her life for, but if we don't fight for them..." I trailed off. Azrael was at my side when I waged war against a god's followers. He knew what I was thinking without finishing. 

His voice came firm, "Then let's take care of this. Quickly." I smiled and nodded, picking him up and attaching the scabbard to my waist. I gave one last look to the burned picture that once proudly displayed the sDglTuoc SakpvsEho, whose name has been lost to mortal memory, leaving me alone with it. I looked at the pictures of Nadia, Claudia, and me and resolved myself once more. I left the demiplane, walking through the small crowd of people. They tried speaking to me, but my mind was preoccupied by the sound of the Deviser, Nadia, who had used a Sending spell. 

"Claudia and I have been informed. En route to you. Don't go alone. We do this together or not at all." I simply smiled and smirked. 

Dear reader, if you're reading this, I likely never returned from this mission. I wrote this while waiting for my wife and daughter and sent it to those I left behind in the cave. I know not what awaited me nor my fate, but remember this: We are stronger together than each of us is individually.

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