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“You’re sure this thing does what you say it does?” Eziel asked, carefully inspecting the fist sized stone resting in the palm of his dark-skinned hand. It glimmered fragments of light, as if reflecting some nonexistent source in the darkness around them. Upon its center was a band of strange etchings which seemed to pulse no matter which way they were facing.

“Of course. Why would I go through the effort of procuring it if it wasn’t as I claim?” The second figure was even darker than the dark elf before him, though it wasn’t his flesh that made him dark. It was an unnatural shadow which cloaked him, drowning out even the darkvison Eziel had come to rely upon living in the underdark.

“You still haven’t told my why you got it for me. What’s in it for you?” Eziel studied the silhouette before him, unable to make out the slightest detail. Had it not been for the months of conversation the two had shared he wouldn’t have wasted another moment in the mysterious figure’s presence. As it was, the figure had earned a hint of his trust, enough to hear him out anyway. The trusting never lived long in the underdark. He wasn’t about to wager his life on this being he knew absolutely nothing about.

“My intentions do nothing but aid you. By giving you this stone, this artifact, you will be able to bring your entire race into the sunlight. It’ll lift the curse which has plagued your people for so long. And if you learn to control it, you’ll be neigh unstoppable, raising your status beyond that of your ruling caste. I’ve provided the tool. It’s up to you to use it. Whether you do or not makes no difference to me. I gain simply by the artifact being here and not where it was.”

The sound of a crossbow releasing broke the calm. Before Eziel could react a sharp pain erupted in his chest. He glanced at the protruding bolt, seeing the blood begin to seep around the shaft. His knees grew weak and he collapsed, watching the glowing stone roll from his grasp. A pair of scaled legs approached and snatched up the artifact. He tried to keep his eyes open to see who had killed him but it was no use. He drifted into the eternal slumber, never to wake again.

“It was as you said.” Eziel’s murderer said. Her voice was harsh yet melodious. “I have the prize. What’s to stop me from killing you too?”

A faint chuckle escaped the unnaturally dark figure. “Many have tried. All have failed. But I appreciate your cautious nature. It will do you well in the coming storm. I recommend you leave this place before the dark elves learn of your presence. They don’t take kindly to those who steal power from them.”

As if on queue, shouts echoed in the distance, growing rapidly closer. Alesteria the Green glanced the way they were coming, the way she’d taken to get here. She’d have to find another exit if she was to get the stone away from them. To her surprise, her guide was already gone, seemingly vanished in the darkness. She could narrowly feel the magic he’d used to escape. If only her own magic would work in such a way.

Refusing to wait a moment longer, she broke into a sprint, darting down corridors and under overhangs, using her sense of smell to find the surface. It was a hard search, being so far underground. There were hazards of all kinds, but so long as she kept ahead of them she could perhaps get away.

Judging from the hurried sounds behind her, her kill had been discovered and that meant the dark elves had picked up her trail. If only they were her only concern. The underdark housed all kinds of dark and dangerous creatures. In her trueform they wouldn’t be as menacing, but the caverns weren’t always big enough to house her. This smaller shell made it easier to navigate, but even that couldn’t protect her if she came across some of the magic users of the underdark. It was said some had the power to invade one’s mind, making them a prisoner inside their own head, leaving their husk to do the bidding of their captor. Alesteria had heard tale of a single being finding ways to take over an entire populace with little more than a thought. That was something she never wanted to experience.

Catching the slightest scent of fresh air, Alesteria turned right and started up a winding ramp of stone. She could see a speck of daylight at the top. The shouts and footsteps were gaining on her. If she delayed longer than a few seconds they’d be within bow range. Seeing little option, she ran and leapt over the ledge. Weightlessness caught her for the briefest moment before her trueform broke through free of its humanoid prison and massive wings sprouted to catch her. She flapped vigorously, gaining altitude with each buffet. Arrows, bolts, and stones flew threw the air around her. Some bounced harmlessly off her scaled hide but others struck home. She struggled to keep her wings flapping. If she could make it to the top she’d be free. Then she could tend the wounds.

The opening grew as she neared. Just a little further. Pain shot from her side. She risked a moment to see what had hit her. A clawed bolt protruded from between her scales but that wasn’t the worst of it. A chain was fixed to the backside, anchored to what appeared to be some kind of ballista. The dark elves around it were cranking a wheel, pulling the chain taut. If she continued to climb it would be tight in a matter of moments. From there it would either rip itself from her side or yank her back into the chasm, neither was a good outlook.

The bolt jerked hard, threatening to shatter bone and tear scale. Alesteria roared in pain, fighting against the restraining bolt. She saw another ballista on the other side taking aim. There was no way she’d be able to fight against two of them. Clenching her teeth, she pulled against the impaled bolt, waiting for the second to launce. When it did, she let her wing fold, dropping rapidly. The loose bolt sailed overhead, imbedding itself in the far wall. What happen next was as much a blessing as a curse. As she fell, she wasn’t able to get her wings to slow her descent before the anchored chain became taut again. It ripped the bolt from her flesh, freeing her at the cost of a lethal wound. A howl of pain erupted from her snout, drowned only by anger.

Alesteria let loose a spray of rancid gas which began to envelope the winding chasm. Dark elves ran for shelter in a desperate attempt to escape the burning poison. She flapped her wings as hard as she could, gaining altitude once again. Her strength was fading but she had to reach the top or she never would.

It felt like an eternity but finally she broke through the hole dislodging chunks of stone as her large form passed through the narrow opening. Unable to fly any further, she slammed into the ground, heaving from the exertion. Alesteria knew she was going to die. She had but one hope for survival. Sucking as much air as her deflated lungs could hold, she roared for her brood to come to her. If they could make it before nightfall, she might yet be saved, though her injuries were likely to permanently cripple her long before then.

Using the last of her magic, Alesteria took her humanoid shape. She couldn’t move as far or as quickly, but if her brood were to find her, they’d be able to carry her to safety, and with luck get the Eye of Sulis far away from the dark elves.

***

A spark of energy appeared in the air, witnessed only by a lone canary perched upon a nearby branch. The spark began to grow, pulsing a purple and red energy that darted around like lightning. The spark began to spread, wider and taller, reaching into the heavens long after the lower point had reached the leaf covered forest floor. A void of darkness filled the space within the rift, broken only by silvery fluid that spread like smoke, thinning and mixing with the others around it. In a matter of moments the opening was complete, standing nearly forty foot high and half that wide.

A hoof pressed from beyond the surface, breaking through to display the red scales that covered the muscular leg attached. Finding purchase in the dirt and leaves, the massive creature pressed through, ducking to fit through the opening between worlds.

Baelathron the Cruel, General of the Eighth Demon Legion took his first steps into a new realm. He breathed deep, sucking in what little sulfur had come through the portal with him.  His scale plated chest heaved a time or two, allowing his lungs to grow accustomed to the mostly pollutant free air which burned and crackled around his flaming hair and hot skin. His four thick legs moved in unison, carrying him forward.

Hearing the chirp of the confused canary, the archdemon snatched the small creature out of the air before it could escape. He brought it to his black, pupil-less eyes studying the tiny thing trapped within his grasp.  It squeaked and fluttered, trying to break free.

Baelathron let out a deep guttural chuckle watching the bird struggle against his hold. “Resistance is futile, little thing. Nothing will survive the coming storm.” The canary chirped one final time before bursting into flame and turning to ash almost instantly. The archdemon turned back toward the portal and marched through, sprinkling the bird’s dust as he went.

The surface was still for but a moment. A moment far too short for what was to follow.

Demon after demon rushed through the portal, invading this new world. Some were small, narrowly larger than a child, carried by fleshy wings of skin and bone. Others were stout and large, resembling orcs but for their horns, wings, and hooves. There were vicious looking demons with small spiked horns and thin triangle tipped tails that walked upright and greatly resembled humans. Like the others they also had bat-like wings sprouting from their bare backs. Huge reptilian-like monstrosities walking on four legs with thick armored torsos and hulking arms carried weapons of flame and shadow. Ringed horns grew from the crown of their heads, wrapping around to protect the sides of their faces, like their general, though considerable smaller than the behemoth that was Baelathron. Compared to a human they were massive. And lastly, an assortment of demons quite unlike the others came through, hissing commands at those before them. Several were humanoid in all ways, save for their various skin colors and textures. Some had blackened feathered wings with smoke rolling from their eyes while others were portly and dressed in gold and gems. There were insect covered monstrosities and beastly creatures, as well as huge serpents armored in bone.

They came in swarms, the forest burning and breaking in their wake. Wood charred as they passed. The air became rancid, waving from the growing heat. The demons marched in every direction, following the commands of their lieutenants, only a few remaining behind to guard the portal.

***

One by one, artifacts came into the world, their presence called by the first. If the rift was to be sealed, they would each be needed. And as one found its way, a worthy hero came along to claim it.

Dolus Fang, called to many but in the end it settled on a soul it could manipulate and control.

Likewise, Corin’s Tear, imprisoned in shadow, found a lightbearer to liberate it.

The Arrows of Celnuntos came into this world not through calling but were rather carried from the remnants of a lost world. Once here, they were giving to the first person able to use them.

Ragnaros’ Fist sough a wielder of strength and victory, presenting itself to only the strongest of the land.

And lastly, the Crutch of Kahlee required a practitioner of magics and strategy.

Together, these artifacts brought a semblance of balance against the demon horde invading the realm from beyond the rift.

***

These artifact wielders were called to the keep of Lord Barius D’Averon where they were introduced to a Duke Tarset by the name of Meaius. Being a warden of time for the god Ozmodius, Meaius provided them what knowledge he could about the demon onslaught that came before. Unfortunately, being a locked point in history, he couldn’t travel there himself, but he was able to send the heroes, by aid of their artifacts to the last demon war.

The world around them began to unmake itself. It began with the the fortress of Outpost, the population retreated, then the stones returned to the earth, untouched. Time reversed in rapid speed. The logs and lumber returned to the trees it had been cut from until the land was untouched. The ocean swallowed the world around them, the island of Taldora disappearing as if it had never been . Everything was consumed outside their little bubble. Fish zoomed by as time continued to rewind. The ocean receded and a barren and vast landmass of soil and sand stretched on for as far as the eye could see. There were no mountains, no trees, nothing to signify anything had ever happened in this featureless landscape. There was then a spark and the landmass itself was unmade.

The heroes witnessed an entity more vast and grant than any they could possibly hope to imagine. They were trapped in a cosmos of everything and nothing. Time was meaningless. There was no future nor past. No beginning nor end. They were everything and they were nothing.

Then, just as insanity was about to claim their minds, an energy washed over them and they found themselves in a barren land vastly different from what they knew. The world was sundered. It was hot, dry, and uncomfortable. Anything that could burn had long turned to ash, the smoldering remains of hidden minerals all that remained. Bones were scattered in all directions, as if something had wiped out the population in a single wave. What had by evidence once been beautiful land had been long ago destroyed.

Just as they started to get their bearings, a roar reverberated through the earth and a horde of demons charged them. They fought with all their might, using the power of their artifacts to hold off the beings bent of their destruction, though even the such power seemed fruitless against the onslaught. Nearly defeated, hope found them.

A veteran of the last demon war and possibly the last surviving mortal of the old world came to their rescue. He fought back the demons and got the heroes to what little safety remained in such a desolate place.

In a small cavern, safe from the baking sun and the roaming demons, Kashien Torcavious offered the heroes what refreshment he could. He listened to their tale and came to understand their presence here. It was then he explained how he’d volunteered to hold back the demons while the rest of the mortal races could escape into the new world. He told them what the demon wars were like, about the unstoppable might of a full invasion. The only survival the mortal races could find was to flee to a new world and leave the old on, this one behind.

Eventually the heroes asked how they’d created a new world, or more importantly how they’d kept the demons in the old one. Kashien recounted a ritual the heroes of his age had used, a ritual which was supposed to have sealed the realm from all travel, effectively imprisoning those in it but keeping all others out. But their very presence was proof the seal had failed. The only hope of keeping the demons from invading the new world was to perform the ritual again, hopefully before too much damage could be done.

Unfortunately, the spell book which contained the sealing ritual had been lost when Kaladurm, a nearby city, fell. If the book had survived, it was likely in the possession of Xerallahmech (Zer-all-uh-mech), an archdemon general who ruled over that part of the world. Anything of value seemed to find its way into his possession.

But rather than rely on hope, Kashien volunteered to perform a scrying spell in hopes of locating the book. He recalled the sealing ritual requiring a fair amount of silverthread, a rare vine which was commonly used to keep corruption out of spellwork until the weave was ready to be cast. Having seen some not long ago, he sent the heroes to collect it which he went to work locating the spell book.

The heroes set out to gather the silverthread. They were ambushed at every turn but managed to fight their way through to claim the prize. However, things took a turn for the worse when they returned to Kashien’s shelter to find him exhausted and next to death. He informed them that he had found the spell book but it was being heavily guarded by both magic and might. The containment spells nearly killed him through the scrying spell but he was confident if he were to attempt to break the protections in person, he could do it. But that brought them to a new problem, they would have to infiltrate the ruined city of Kaladurm and deal with any demons they encountered. Such a feat was not going to be easy and it was unlikely any of them would survive if the alarm was sounded.

Decided to test fate in hopes of saving their world, the heroes, escorted by a weakened Kashien, set out for Kaladurm. They infiltrated the outer edge of the once beautiful city and made their way to its heart, where the keep once stood. All that remained was piled stone in the vague shape of a once building. The heroes were quick to silence any demons they encountered and they eventualy made their way into the bowels of the ruined fortress where they found what remained of the vault. As if the demons had been waiting for them, they were attacked. Kashien, seeing his chance used the battle as a distraction to slip by and begin dispelling the wards.

Drawn by the commotion, the demon general Xerallahmech engaged the heroes but was ultimately defeated. As the final demon guards fell, the wards were broken. The heroes rushed in to claim the spell book. With it in their grasp, they began their retreat. Safely out of Kaladurm, Kashien began to give some advise on the ritual but his message was cut short. The heroes found themselves back at Lord Barius D’Averon’s keep, as if they’d never left. Only this time they had the spell book and the silverthread to perform the ritual of sealing.

It took some time to translate the ritual. The heroes determined that it had to be performed at dusk, 3 days shy of a full moon. Moreover, they had to find the mother rift and seal it at its source.

Scouts located the demon rift and the heroes went to work eliminating as many as they could in hopes of thinning the herd before their focus was needed on the ritual.

At dusk the heroes fought their way to the mother rift. They suffered losses, both in companions and in their artifacts. All hope seemed lost for a time as the artifacts were needed to perform the ritual but several of them had fallen into enemy hands. It took some effort but the heroes managed to fight their way back, reclaiming their artifacts and beginning the ritual.

They fought wave after wave, slowly making progress. It took them a while to learn to work as a team and to use the abilities of their artifacts but they slowly got the hang of it. Just before the ritual was to be completed and the rift sealed, an archdemon made his appearance from the rift. The battle was long and hard but the heroes were victorious. The sealed the rift and defeated the archdemon and his present minions.

As it was the rift was sealed, ending the demon invasion and rendering the artifacts powerless.