The wood elf smirked to himself as no doubt the High Elven clerics of Tunare would be finishing their daily ceremony at the conclusion of the each day surrounded by their marble halls and monstrous statues all in honor of the Mother of All. Azifar always felt that the tall trees and the animals were much more true to Tunare’s image then the lifeless stone statues created by the High Elven clerics. He often shared these views with his wife, Nandaine, but true to the High Elven ideals and pride she rarely saw it in such ways and of course caused a great deal of frustration between the two of them.
"Nandaine…" Azifar said out loud as if simply speaking her name would some how bring her closer to him. The distant hooting of an owl was his only reply as he again took a deep cleaning sigh.
Looking around at the old druid monuments Azifar still gazed in awe at the powerful magic used in its creation. Massive stone pillars supporting even larger stones laid on top of them all in perfect alignment with the many stars and constellations of the night's sky. These ruins were very old indeed, as they were here long before even the first elves steeped foot upon the island of Faydwer.
Though vines and grand oaks had taken root and thrived among the ancient stones the powerful magic that had created the monument to Tunare also kept them in perfect order. The many druids of the elves spend countless years among the ruins studying the ancient symbols carved into the stones and contemplated the alignment of the pillars with the many constellations in the sky trying to discern some hidden truth left behind by its mysterious creators.
The Azifar long ago lost count of the many hours spent here staring and dreaming of the bright lights in the sky, contemplating their beauty and meaning. The druids had finished their studies at the ruins as they believed their meanings and symbols were all known to them. In their devotion to the knowledge of Tunare they have continued on studying other relics of Tunare scattered throughout Faydwer which was to the delight of Azifar. The wood elf cherished the time he had alone with Tunare in all of her forms and these ruins were by far his most treasured place to do just that.
Though the elves had many thousands of years ago claimed the island of Faydwer as their own there are still many artifacts left from a time long before even the elves were more than a dream that still hold great power and knowledge. Azifar cared little for these quests for knowledge, as he knew the answers were all around him in the trees, animals and even the stars. Azifar had always known that if you really wanted to learn the secrets of Tunare in all of her forms then simply ask her as she was all around you talking if one but take the time to listen. This got a chuckle from him as he taunted these observations with the prideful High Elves surrounded in their lavishly adorned palaces of marble.
His thoughts were interrupted by the distant cries of pain. Jumping from his stone perch the wood elf silently raced through the forest as the sounds of battle silenced all the harmony of the night. Stopping on a ridge Azifar surveyed the events transpiring below him with a deep scowl. Large hulking monsters vaguely humanoid with massive frames and deep blue skin grunted and howled as they chopped and bashed at a small company of dwarves which had camped for the night in woods of Lesser Faydark. Already three mangled corpses lay dismembered on the forest floor as the horde of beasts moved in on the remaining two dwarves desperately fighting for their lives.
"Orcs…" Azifar murmured to himself in disgust knowing what fate soon would befall the Dwarves as these murderous beasts were a cancer to forest and ancient enemies of the Elves.
Though Elves have little love for Dwarves Azifar was reluctant to allow anyone to fall to such a grisly fate. Orcs often used the bones of their victims in horrific ceremonies to enslave even their disembodied spirits to serve their murders to further their vile ways. After a quick scan of the situation the wood elf knew that the chances of these two remaining Dwarves survival was very slim indeed as already one of the survivors was limping badly and the other had an arm hanging lifelessly limp. Despite the odds Azifar knew he could never turn away from a battle even as hopeless as this appeared with an enemy as vile as Orcs drew his bow and dashed down the slope.
Grunting in a blood lusted frenzy the Orcs charged the remaining Dwarves. Though horribly wounded the sturdy warriors were not without spirit and deftly dodged and blocked the wild swings of the Orcs and felled two more of the beasts as Azifar reached the large bolder overlooking the grizzly scene. Drawing his first arrow Azifar took aim at the horde of beasts still surrounding the two remaining Dwarves and took a deep breath offering a prayer to Tunare. With a gurgling howl of agony the Orc closest the Dwarves fell to the ground grunting and squealing clutching the arrow protruding from its chest. Just as suddenly another Orc fell to the ground gargling, feebly grasping the arrow in its throat followed by another howling with an arrow through its spine.
Though two more fell suddenly lifeless the blood lusted Orcs hardly acknowledge the silent death cutting through their ranks and only had the smell of the wounded Dwarves and the single minded hunger for their flesh continued to hammer on their near crippled bodies. Azifar knew that even if he could slay an Orc with each of the two score of arrows in his quiver there would still be more of these vile creatures still standing and the Dwarves lifeless corpses. Then Azifar found the answer far off to the left and standing near a large boulder took aim and fired. The shot though way beyond the range of even the finely crafted Elven Trueshot Bow lived up to its name pierced the heavily armored chest of the Orc High Shaman and blasted it to the ground.
Suddenly as if awakening from a dream the Orcs shook their head and shrieked in horror as the unholy voice of their dark god lay broken on the ground in a pool of blood. Without their unholy guidance and enchantments the bloodlust of the horde of monsters quickly vanished. The Dwarves grasping this last chance of survival began their own battle chant and charged the despair stricken Orcs falling two of them before they could even turn back to the battle at hand.
A small flicker of hope burned in Azifar’s eyes that maybe the two Dwarves may live to see another sunrise was just as suddenly snuffed out as a dark power washed over his body. The Wood Elf’s arms suddenly lost strength and his bow felt the weight of a grand oak tree fell from his hands. His knees quickly followed and suddenly Azifar fell to the ground stricken as the very strength was being robbed from his body. Gasping with barely the strength to take a breath Azifar looked with dread as the strangely animated body of the Orc Shaman stood up chanting and pointing with a dark blood soaked staff with a skull tied with dried entrails took a horrific step towards him.
Cursing at his body for refusing to obey him, Azifar desperately tried to call upon the power of Tunare to give him the strength to destroy this abomination. To his horror time began to slow and the undead Orc Shaman continued its approach. With labored breaths even Azifar’s sight was blurred and sweat poured from his body with the exertion of simply sitting upright. Fighting through the panic Azifar could feel the abomination was closing fast and desperately tried to think of a plan as the Orc’s vile stench filled the air all around him.
With a growl of defiance, Azifar reached down and bit hard into his own arm, hot blood rushed into his mouth as the pain and agony fought through the numbing enchantments of the Orc Shaman. Feebly Azifar rolled to his feet and drew his twin Ebony Blades as a sudden blast knocked him from his feet and slamming him into the nearby tree. Waves of agony washed over the stunned Wood Elf but at least some feeling was returning to his body as his legs could hold some of his weight. With an unholy wail the undead creature struck out again blasting Azifar with another burst of dark energy throwing him through the air landing fifteen feet down the hillside.
Blinded with his own blood Azifar feebly looked around seeing the vile creature closing quickly when suddenly a bright light surrounded the undead creature as it shrieked out in unholy agony. To the Wood Elf’s surprise it seems that one of the surviving Dwarves was a cleric as the distant chanting of Brell Serilis's name washed over the sounds of battle. Though it bought some much needed time the Undead Orc was hardly scathed and continued its assault racking with craw like hands. Slashing out Azfiar cut into the beast and the vile creature’s arm fell to the ground dismembered. Stunned in horror Azifar watched as the Orc reached down grasping the arm and regenerated it back into its dead body through some dark sorcery made whole once again.
Fighting through the panic Azifar searched for some way to destroy this monster and turned his eyes upon the vile blood soaked staff the creature still held. With a cry to Tunare, Azifar whirled into action slicing instead at the skull atop the unholy staff and was rocketed to the ground as the skull burst in a fiery explosion. Writhing in agony the Undead Orc Priest was immersed in the hungry flames that quickly consumed its rotting body.
Laying in agony Azifar called up on the divine powers of Tunare as a soothing blue light eased away some of the pain allowing him to regain his feet and slowly making his way down to the two surviving Dwarves. Many Orcs fled when seeing their Shaman fall while a scattered few still fused with bloodlust continued to batter the Dwarves but after the fiery explosion and destruction of they spiritual leader the remaining Orcs fled into the forest grunting in terror. Though horribly bleeding and with gorges of flesh torn from their bodies the two Dwarves still stood their ground with an indomitable spirit.
"Xard?" Azfiar asked tentatively as he approached the two Dwarves still wary of their savior.
"Aye it be me and you sure be taking you time getting here! One would think you be knowing an army of Orcs be trampling through Lesser Faydark would be attracting your attention much sooner!" The fiery Dwarf replied though very happy to see his old friend.
"Was not even sure you were needing my help seeing that there were only three score Orcs hardly worthy of a warrior of the Syndicate." Azifar taunted while grasping the old dwarf by the arm laughing the whole time.
"This here be Kryl Syndicate cleric of Brell Serilis and being the man you be thanking for saving your scrawny hide from that big stinking corpse of an Orc you be playing with not so nice I might be adding." Xard said with a hearty laugh introducing the second surviving Dwarf though already in deep mediation to this god summoning healing powers and in excruciatingly obvious pain.
"I am deeply sorry I did not arrive sooner to help before your other friends fell in battle" Azifar gestured to the three fallen Dwarven corpses laying among the piles of Orc bodies.
"Aye they be good lads and it be sad as they be working for Lord Dragons as well though not Syndicate but aye good lads they had been." Xard explained with a long face but instantly cheered up while saying aloud an ancient warrior prayer to the great Dwarven God Brell Serilis that three brave warriors were soon to be greeting him in the great halls of the afterlife.
"Xard what has you and your companions so far out from Kaladim your Dwarven City and why are you here in Lesser Faydark?" Azifar’s face quickly turned to a look of concern as Xard looked again back into the Wood Elf’s eyes.
"Well Azifar this be a very important trip indeed as Lord Dragons himself has sent for me to be finding you because there be some very dark times ahead indeed. Come my friend let me tell you my tale." Xard began as Azifar looked on in grave interest, as it seems this night has just begun…
Long Live the Syndicate!
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