That’s a broad question that requires a bit of an explanation.

I’m sure you’ve all heard that Athas used to be a green planet. Oceans and forests and vast plains covered the world beneath a blue sun. This was known as the Blue Age, and the world was at peace.

Something happened…history is unclear on this. But the Sun turned yellow, the oceans receded,  and the great beings that watched and protected our world became silent. Oh, I could go into the whole philosophical aspect and theories that mention that The Grey appeared at this time, but overall, that is irrelevant to the story.

This was known as the Green Age. This is the first that we know of our written history, and this is also the first known instance of the power of The Way. It was during this time that a great being was born. His name was Rajaat, and he was a member of a group known as the Pyreen. These beings are one with the primal spirits of the world. They are guardians, healers. And Rajaat was the greatest among them.

Many centuries passed, for it is known that the Pyreen are ageless. Rajaat began searching for these great guardians that once protected the world, for he foresaw a time when they would be needed. He confined himself in something called the Pristine Tower. It was here that he learned how to gather the energies of the world and create Magic. He called to him several students, teaching them to use magic to better themselves and the peoples of the world. Then, he faded from history for a time. Some say he ventured into the Grey looking for our lost gods.

One of Rajaat’s students, some say his greatest student, found a way to twist magic, using life-force to make his magics more powerful. He, along with his closest companions (known as the Champions of Rajaat) began using this defiling magic to wreak untold atrocities upon the planet. Some of the Champions rebelled…oh yes. Myself and Wyan were among them. We were the most fortunate of our companions, though…Borys did horrible things to the rest of us.

They began a war of Genocide…cleansing what they thought of as the impure races from the world. Borys told us it was Rajaat’s will. Some of the champions went along with the cleansing, to our shame, out of fear. Borys of Ebe is a powerful foe. As the land became defiled from the Cleansing Wars, Wyan and I began to formulate a plan that would warn Rajaat of the evils that his champions were performing. Wyan and I performed a ritual that would let us contact our lord, but we were somehow discovered.

(Wyan chimes in at this point, “I still think it was that evil bitch Uyness)

As punishment, Borys beheaded us, then cursed us to the form you see now. But not before our warning awakened Rajaat.

Borys knew he was returning, so he had the rest of the champions change him, transforming him to that dreadful Dragon. They, in turn, were partially transformed with the promise that the more powerful they became, the closer they would come to being Dragons.

However, they did not foresee the danger of this transformation. Borys was driven mad with the pain of his change, destroying cities and countryside. The rest of the champions gathered themselves into the city-states, protecting themselves from the Dragon’s wrath.

It was then that Rajaat returned, changed. It is my theory that he found the world’s ancient guardians, and they made him like they were. For 100 years, Rajaat and the Dragon fought. The Dragon used his foul magics to defile the planet, weakening Rajaat. It was at this time that the sun changed from yellow to red.

The hundred year battle between the Dragon and Rajaat ended when Borys regained his sanity. Borys knew he would never destroy Rajaat, so he gathered the champions and, together, they bound Rajaat in a place outside of time and space. Unable to return, the world, already dealt its death-blow, began to whither and rot. Now, the Dragon demands a levy of 1000 slaves from each city-state from the remaining champions, now known as the Sorcerer Kings. This levy is to maintain the wards on Rajaat’s prison, preventing his escape.

The pools will continue to spawn my daughters, and will be the place of my rebirth should I die. And, my children will continue to maintain the pool until they are called.”

Another entry, dated several hundred years ago, mentions the theft of the Eye by one of Abalach Re’s daughters.

A later entry, one that is quite recent, is as follows;

“I felt a flicker of the Eye recently. It lasted but a few moments, but I was able to determine that it was almost directly south of me, though I’m not entirely sure where. With the Eye in hand, I can begin my final transformation.”

An even more recent journal entry:

“I sensed it again, and it was moving. This time, I was prepared. I now know that the Eye is somewhere within the Black Spine Mountains.”

Even later:

“I obliterated the little town, but was unable to find the Eye. I sense the hand of one of my wayward daughters in this one. Somehow, she has hidden the Eye from me again. I was able to wring a name out of one of the wretches living there…Allkirk. I will find this upstart and I will torture the pathetic fool until he begs to tell me the location.”

This final entry is dated several months ago:

“Allkirk has proven troublesome. I believe that he does not know the location of the Eye, but he did reveal that he was able to bind the Eye again, trapping it. I must acknowledge the ingenuity of my daughter and Allkirk in using another primordial to hide the location of the Eye. At least I know now that I am looking for a sword.

Luckily, I have found some clueless mercenaries who are willing to look for the final Orb. With it, I hope to gather enough information to complete Kalak’s failed ritual. And, if I fail, there is always the Eye. I will hide the other three, for now.”

Mela frowned, “Though he is smelly, I must admit that the mul is both amusing and extremely useful. I think we should head up into the city and start looking for where they are keeping him. Then, he’ll owe us for rescuing him.”

“And how do you suppose to do that?” Nanda asked. “Right now, the Draji army is sweeping into the city, killing everyone in their path. Fortunately, due to your efforts, the majority of the citizens are hidden within basements and the aqueducts. The creatures you brought,” she nodded to Kratas, “are harrying the enemy, but they are few, and the Draji are many. Going out there now would be a mistake; Tectuktitlay would gain not one, but likely all of you.”

A new voice spoke as a small panel slid away from one wall, “She is correct. If Tectuktitlay follows tradition, a celebration will occur tonight. He will likely perform the sacrifices at moonrise. Then, he will occupy the palace. They will soon wonder where we are all hidden and come looking for us.”

The shrouded form of the Grand Vizier stepped through the secret wall, alone. Behind her, the sound of water was louder, and something else…hammers, the sounds of large blocks of stone being moved.

Nanda frowned, giving the Grand Vizier a troubled look, “I currently am not able to determine where they are keeping the prisoners. However, if the storm clears, I will see what I can find for you.”

The young girl whispered, “I will help find him…he saved my life.”

The Grand Vizier sneered slightly, then replied, “Yes yes…save the mul. However, I have an additional proposal for you, one that I think you are suited for.”

Moving to the center of the small room, she pulled out a rolled scroll. Bending down, she unrolled it, revealing a map of the palace.

“Tectuktitlay will want to pillage the palace, taking everything of value. He will likely spend a few days here before returning to Draj, leaving one of his Templars to rule here as regent. So that leaves a narrow opportunity for us.”

Pressing her hand over the map, she looked up at the group of them, “I want to hire you to kill the Sorcerer King.”

"Tectuktitlay has always coveted this city," she began. "Over the years, we have had to fight off numerous attacks from him and his army. Always, we were able to fight off his invasions."

Her eyes dart to the young girl. With that glance, Kratas could tell that she was in full character, fully invested in pretending to be her mother.

"He was always the weakest of the Sorcerer Kings. His greed, his insecurity, always forces him to fall back or make serious mistakes. And this time, he made the biggest mistake of them all."

A hateful sneer crossed her face, "This is MY city!"

She again glanced at the young girl, "Leave us, slave."

The girl looked at Nanda, who nodded toward the stairs, whispering, "Go on, little one. Return when the storm abates."

The girl nodded, rushing up the stairs.

Once she was sure the child was out of earshot, the Vizier’s voice softened, "There isn't much in the treasury. Mother drained the coffers at every opportunity; she was wasteful and she was a hedonist. But, what is in the treasury is yours. I only ask that you defeat Tectuktitlay, and that when he is dead, you assist me in making this city prosperous."

A look of fear crossed her face as she looked over at Nanda, "And to help me keep this city when Mother returns."

Dryder arched an eyebrow, his mouth twisted as he asked, “Which sorcerer king are you asking us to kill?”

The Vizier frowned, her arrogance again returning to the fore, “Fool, you know of whom I speak…the weak-willed despot who just attacked my city.”

Before Dryder could reply, a call from the nearby stairway to the surface interrupted the meeting.

 “The storm is gone. The enemy army is gathering near the palace walls.”

The building’s roof provided a clear view of the activity on the palace wall, all while giving the gathering slaves and Unclean plenty of cover from prying eyes. Above, Tectuktitlay had already begun his speech, his voice magically amplified to boom over the city.

“Citizens of Raam. Know that I am your new ruler. Those of you who surrender to my army will be spared, allowed to live as slaves until such time that you earn your freedom. If you bring me your former ruler, you will be rewarded and granted freedom. Those of you who continue to resist me will be given to my mother and father, Ral and Guthay.”

Behind them, the shrouded form of the Grand Vizier hissed with anger, “The idiot still thinks he’s the child of the moons. A ridiculous concept that fools only his weak-minded sycophants.”

They continued to watch, noticing a group of guards drag a large man to the edge of the wall. Several slaves heaved a makeshift altar before the king.

Tectuktitlay then drew a long obsidian dagger from his belt.

“This citizen bravely fought, standing alone against my soldiers and then myself, so that he could protect those weaker than himself. His bravery is admirable, so I am allowing him the honor to be the first sacrifice to Ral and Guthay. See what happens to those who will resist me.”

The guards slammed the man onto the altar, holding his arms out to his sides. Even from this distance, they could all see the man struggling to free himself. Calling out a prayer to the moons, Tectuktitlay plunged his dagger into the man’s chest, ripping upward. As the crowd on the roof gasped, the King reached into the man’s chest, ripping out his heart. Holding the still beating heart up to the rising moons, he gave a long shout of triumph before tossing the heart into a nearby brazier. As the army below cheered, the guards shoved the man’s body from the altar, letting it fall to the ground beneath the wall.

As the body fell, Katrie could see that it was Gundrek.

Katrie gave a small cry of anguish, echoed by several people on the roof. They, too, had seen who it was. An old man, one of the Unclean, waved his hand at a group of slaves, pointing down to Gundrek’s body

“Ah, your Mul. Though he was a fool, I am sorry that your friend is dead,” the Grand Vizier actually sounded sincere.

The old man gave a disgusted sound, glaring at the Grand Vizier before looking at Katrie.

“He was your friend?” the man asked. Katrie nodded.

 “He saved my family. He protected my daughter, not caring if we were slaves and Unclean. He did it at risk to himself, and he suffered the consequences for it. My debt to him cannot be easily repaid. Whatever you need, I will encourage my people to give you.”

Behind him, the people on the roof were bowing their heads in sorrow. Below, a small group of Unclean were sneaking out to gather Gundrek’s body.

“His tale will be told. His sacrifice will be remembered. My people will honor him every day, and we will help you fight this menace,” the old man, despite the rags he wore, looked noble, regal, as he made his pledge.

Katrie heard Mela’s voice beside her, “One must fall to defeat the Moon King, but their death shall make them a legend.”

Katrie looked at her friend, sadness in her eyes, “I told you, knowing the future is dangerous.”

Already, the King had begun more sacrifices, and it was pretty clear that this would go on for several more hours. As they watched, Dryder walked up behind them, quiet anger smoldering in his voice, “We need to get below. There are plans we need to discuss.”

The Vizier, noticing that the group of them were moving back inside, made as if to follow.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dryder’s voice was cold, “We need to discuss this among ourselves, and I would prefer not having you interfering.”

The Vizier gave a knowing smirk, then responded, “Very well. We will discuss this more tomorrow. But, understand that this is a narrow window of opportunity here.”

With that, she moved into the building, descending the darkened stairs.

The small cavern was illuminated by several smoky torches. Nanda carefully guided the group between the pallets, campsites, and people milling about in the small area.

Several families were there; slaves, Unclean, those nobles who were able to escape. Even a small group of the Githzerai Kratas had brought into the city were resting in one dark corner of the cave. Despite the cramped quarters, the entire area was cool, moist, and almost comfortable.

On one side of the cavern, Gundrek's body lay in state. The slaves and Unclean had built a small shrine, placing gifts, flowers, even some valuables around his body. As Kratas, Mela, and the rest of the group settled in, they watched another slave approach the shrine, kneeling down to bow her head before placing a small wrapped package on the floor next to him.

“They have never had anyone protect or defend them like this,” the old man, who they learned was named Tradis, was sitting on the floor, quietly stirring a pot of a pleasant smelling soup. "Always, we are ignored, beaten...even killed. When the evacuation plans were made to leave the city when we discovered the army was approaching, no one even mentioned the Unclean or the slaves. Your friend cared, though. Now, my people revere him as a savior.”

As Tradis spoke, another person approached the shrine, briefly bowing before it. This time, instead of leaving her package at the shrine, she moved over to Nanda, handing her a wrapped bundle. You hear her whisper, "It is all I have. Please, use it to bring him back to us.”

Nanda carefully unwrapped the bundle. Within were herbs, incense, even gold.

You see Tradis smile, and a gleam of fire and mischievousness glints in his eyes, “One thing about being an Unclean...no one notices you. I've had some of my people go to some of the noble houses...those that are left, anyway.”

Mela recognized the herbs, “You’re planning on raising him, aren’t you?”

Nanda nodded, “The people need someone to believe in. They think he will protect them, and they have rallied behind him. Though most of the slaves and Unclean are non-combatants, I think you will find they have talents that make them quite valuable.”

Tradis grinned again, “Those hammers and such you hear? Those are my people damming the aqueducts. They’ve redirected a lot of clean water that only we can access. And the rest of the water going to the wells up in the city will cause Draj’s army to feel pretty uncomfortable over the next few days.”

Kratas actually chuckled at this, nodding his head at the ingenuity of the old man, “As soon as they figure it out, though, they will sweep the aqueducts.”

Mela moved over to Nanda, “Let me take the herbs; I am familiar with the ritual. He’s our friend, so I’d like to take the responsibility for bringing him back. Katrie and I can do this.”

Nanda smiled, carefully handing the bundle to Mela. Together, Mela, Nanda and Katrie moved to Gundrek’s body. Slowly, they began setting up the ritual, drawing the required patterns around and on the body.

The entire cavern was quiet as Mela and Katrie performed the ritual. For hours, their voices quietly rose and fell, bringing an odd comfort to the families and children watching.

As dawn broke on the following day, Gundrek sat up. He looked haggard, exhausted. But his wounds were closed, and a quiet, smoldering anger could be felt coming from him.

One by one, Dryder, Kratas, even Kharne, approached him, clasping his shoulder, clapping him on the back. Katrie hugged him fiercely, and Mela leaned down to give him a kiss on his cheek. The slaves and Unclean each reached out to touch him as he walked by, quietly murmuring their gratitude.

Nanda was quite helpful in gaining a small bit of privacy for the group, gently shooing onlookers away. Together, they sat in a dark corner, sipping soup and talking amongst each other.

Dryder was the first to speak, “I think we should pack up and leave. The city is lost, and I doubt there is anything we can do to save it.”

Kratas nodded his head, “I don’t know if we are strong enough to defeat Tectuktitlay. We’d have to work our way into the palace and somehow find him. He’d have his personal bodyguards with him. I agree with Dryder; this is too dangerous.”

“So you’re planning on leaving this city to that madman?” Katrie sounded disgusted. Mela, beside her, looked equally disgusted.

Kharne shrugged. He was new to the party, but was well aware of what the Sorcerer Kings were capable of, “I say we go for it. We have a rare chance here. The lady said he was the weakest.”

Dryder responded, “She is a known liar! She could be telling us this to lure us into a false sense of security. I mean, come on! He killed our strongest warrior! The way I see it, this is a win-win proposition for her, and a lose-lose proposition for us. If we win, she gets her city back and then she can attack us after we are weakened from the battle, eliminating two rivals. If we lose, she does the same to Tectuktitlay. I just don’t see how we can defeat him.”

Gundrek, quiet this entire conversation, finally spoke, “I will do it. With or without you, I will find a way to kill him. Not just for these people, but because I owe him.”

The entire group was quiet, then Kratas spoke, “I know this is all about revenge, Gundrek, and that’s something I understand and appreciate. But are you sure you’re thinking clearly? He killed you!”

“Yes, but I was alone. I think we can defeat him if I have you all by my side.”

Dryder finally nodded, “Ok…but I want the Vizier to be there with us. I don’t trust her.”

Two hours later, the Grand Vizier finally arrived, escorted by a small group of guards. She was visibly interested in the Githzerai, and when she approached the group, she was noticeably startled to see Gundrek alive.

“You brought back your mul! Well, that was certainly unexpected. But, I commend you for your unusual thinking here. If I didn’t expect this, I’m pretty sure that Tectuktitlay won’t either.”

Gundrek growled, his large hands gripping his hammer. Katrie placed her hand on his shoulder, calming him.

She gave the floor of the cavern a quick look of distaste, then settled down among the group. Reaching into her robe, she pulled out the rolled map.

“So, have you had the opportunity to discuss my proposal?”

Dryder sat across from her, his voice still cold, “I want to know why you’re asking us to help you. Forgive me, but I can’t help but think you have an ulterior motive. That, and I just don’t trust you.”

She arched an eyebrow, “When have I ever been anything but honest with you? Every promise to you I’ve made, I’ve honored. When I promised a meeting to set a council? I delivered. When you asked for your family’s killer, I practically dropped her in your lap.

The reason I’m asking you is that you’ve already shown how resourceful you are. You killed a Sorcerer Queen! And, I realize you are correct.

This city is on the verge of ruin. Since I was a child, I was groomed to be my mother’s decoy. So, I was taught to rule, to BE my mother. And when she “died,” I was forced to become ruler. You were able to present a reasonable plan to bring this city under control, as well as a potential to make it prosperous. Free the slaves, set up a ruling council, and work as a society to rebuild this nation. This will rally the people. And, when Mother returns, I will have an entire city behind me.

So, is there an ulterior motive? Yes, absolutely. But, if I wanted you killed, I would have let Mallah kill you weeks ago. And whether you believe me or not, I actually care about this city.”

“Mallah?” Mela asked.

“My bodyguard. She is one of Mother’s more…sane…abominations.”

Kratas leaned forward, “What do you mean?”

She sighed, “Mother’s promiscuity is no secret. The fact is, each of her dalliances served a purpose; each one bore her a daughter. Some of them are human, like Nanda and I. Others are…twisted, deformed.”

“Do you know why she was doing this?” Kratas asked.

She shook her head, “No. But she was willing to run this city into the ground while she birthed these monstrosities. I’ve heard many of the other Sorcerer Kings’ envoys claim that she is the weakest ruler. Maybe its familial pride, but I think she’s actually the most devious and dangerous. Recently, she’s ramped up her plans, which, I believe, is where you came to know her.”

Kratas was quiet; he very well remembered Abalach Re’s manipulations, and the fierce battle that nearly cost them all their lives.

“Now,” she began, “shall we discuss my plan?”

Unrolling the scroll, the group was pleased to see a surprisingly detailed map of the palace and what looked like a vault.

“Beneath the palace is Mother’s vault. This is where she keeps her library, her treasures (or what’s left of them), and where she births her children.

On the north end of the vault is a stairway that leads up to a panel behind the throne room,” she pointed at a small area of the map. “Here is where you will emerge to attack Tectuktitlay.”

Dryder interrupted, “And just where will you be? Wouldn’t it be beneficial for a ruler to be at the forefront to attack their enemy? It would show the people that you are willing to defend them.”

She smirked, “Who says I won’t be in the fight? I and a number of troops will attack the palace from here,” again she points to the map. “While Tectuktitlay’s troops are distracted, you will emerge from the vault and attack him from behind.”

Dryder had to admit that the plan had merit.

“How do you know that he hasn’t found the vault already?” Kratas asked.

She smiled wickedly, reaching into her robe and pulling out an elaborate silver key, “Because only two people have access to the vault. Myself, and Mallah.

Now, I must warn you. Within the vault are some of Mother’s most dangerous and insane monstrosities. They will not hesitate to attack you on sight. Also down here, Mallah makes her home; I think she likes to be close to her sisters,” she shivered.

“How do we get there? And when will we know to attack?” Gundrek asked.

“There is a tunnel here in the aqueducts that will get you to the vault. Mother intended it as an escape route in case Raam was attacked. And, I will begin my attack the day after tomorrow, one hour after dawn. You will need to listen for us.”

“Very well then,” Dryder nodded. “We’ll leave immediately. That will give us plenty of time to make it through the vault and to rest up before the attack.”

She smiled, standing up, “One hour after dawn on the day after tomorrow, then.”

The tunnel emerged into a small cave. Across from them, they could just make out the corner of a large structure. The dark marble glistened in their torchlight.

“She didn’t happen to say how to get in, did she?” Kharne asked.

“She likely thinks we are “resourceful” enough to figure it out ourselves,” Mela responded archly as she ran her hands along the wall.

Katrie quietly walked along the edge of the wall while the rest of the party searched. Her keen eyes traced each stone, each seam, until she saw what she was looking for.

“Here it is,” she called.

As the door slid open, Dryder shook his head, “How do you do that?”

Kratas carefully wiped blood from the edge of the ruined circle he was studying. Behind him, he could hear Mela and Gundrek bickering.

“Ouch, woman! Just sew it up and move on with it,” Gundrek was roaring.

“Oh, quit being such a baby. This is nothing compared to having your heart cut out,” Kratas heard a slap, likely Mela smacking Gundrek on the back of his head.

The library itself was quite large. A large, glowing orb illuminated one side of the room, and a large table with a candelabra shed a pale light on the other side.

As soon as they had entered the room, the queen’s daughters had attacked. Two of them were barely recognizable as human, much less as women. Both were almost 7 feet tall with long, spindly arms. Both had fearsome strength, and Kratas shivered as he remembered one of them climbing the book shelves, then leaping and crawling along the ceiling before dropping in the middle of their group, claws and teeth flailing.

Two others looked almost human, both lovely. Except for the long, serrated bone blades where their hands should be. And still two more shocked the party when they suddenly turned the party’s spells and abilities against the party.

The last daughter they encountered still gave Kratas chills. He recalled her emerging from the southern room, covered in blood. It dripped from her nose, mouth, eyes, and ears, even from her skin. What was most frightening about her, though, was that she could spit the blood. Kratas was forced to eject the creature into a pocket dimension when it somehow used its blood to dominate Dryder.

Mela spoke from behind him, “It’s another teleportation circle, isn’t it?”

Kratas nodded, smiling. The more of these he found, the more mobile the group was. Kratas believed that these teleportation circles would be key in defeating the Sorcerer Kings.

At the table, Kratas heard Katrie exclaim with glee, “Kratas, it’s a ritual that actually CURES defilement!”

Kratas again smiled. Despite the fearsome battle, they had found a wealth of information down here. Though they had not yet found the treasury, Kratas was confident that even if there was nothing in it, the knowledge of thousands of years within this library was worth more than any material wealth.

Moving over to one shelf, he let his eyes roam over the books. Many of them were labeled in a flowing, very legible script. He assumed these were likely written by Abalach Re herself.

Grabbing a few, Kratas spent several minutes flipping through some of the pages. Finding something that caught his interest, he called out to Kharne.

“Have you heard of something called Life-shaping?”

Kharne moved closer, cautiously saying, “Yes.”

The Halflings were notoriously close-lipped when it came to life-shaping. They were able to use natural materials to create artifacts and items of surprising power. Kharne had seen many life-shaped weapons, but had never used one.

“This book describes how Abalach Re spied on the halflings,” Kratas continued. “She learned what she could of their magics and then twisted it, creating a version of life-shaping that utilized defiling magic.”

Kratas continued perusing the book when he suddenly gasped, a startled “Oh!” escaping his lips.

Dryder looked up from the book he was thumbing through, “What is it?”

Kratas looked up at Dryder with wide eyes, “This describes a life-shaping ritual she was researching. Essentially, she would be able to bind a primordial entity to a life-shaped artifact. As long as this item existed, she theorizes in here, then the ritual caster cannot be killed permanently.”

All eyes turned to Dryder and the sword he was carrying.

“You think that it’s the eye, don’t you,” he asked, pulling out the blade that Allkirk had created for him.

“It makes sense,” Kratas said. “She attacked Kiris Dahn looking for that eye. Allkirk secreted it away, binding it inside of that blade to keep it hidden from her. What if he was trying to find a way to destroy it?”

Dryder was quiet for a moment, then put down the book he was reading, “Let’s gather the books you think are useful so that we can come back for them. We still need to finish searching this vault.”

The group gathered their weapons, preparing to venture further into the Queen’s vaults.

DM’s Notes: The group was a little shocked that I killed Gundrek like this. His player and I had worked it out weeks in advance that this would happen as a role-playing prerequisite for his Epic Destiny, which is going to be Unyielding Sentinel. Considering the nature of Athas, I figure that doing it in a brutal and shocking fashion very much fit in with the theme. Then, I allowed what was essentially a free Raise Dead to bring him back.

Now that the party is almost level 16, I will be incorporating their epic destinies into the storyline.

The day is now the 27th day of Morrow, in the Season of High Sun, in the Year of Guthay’s Defiance, 190th King's Age. In the skies above, the comet known as the Messenger can be seen.

Turning a corner, hoping that his companions had turned here as well, Gundrek was nearly trampled by a group of people running in the opposite direction. Rubbing the sand from his eyes, he noticed that the majority of them were either slaves or Unclean. Pushing his way forward, he pulled out his Kraghammer.

Ahead, he could see shapes approaching in the blowing sand. He could hear laughter and screams of terror as he approached.

There were three of them, enemy soldiers, laughing as they surrounded a young girl. One of the soldiers was pulling out a pair of shackles. Nearby, he could hear more laughter and screams as more soldiers were gathering prisoners.

Remembering his time as a slave, Gundrek felt that old rage well up within him. Growling, he rushed the soldiers, his hammer slamming into the one with the shackles. The force of his rage exploded outward, forcing all three soldiers to be blown backward away from the girl.

Moving to stand between the soldiers and the girl, Gundrek shouted a curse at them.

As the soldiers stood, a deep voice from behind them ordered, “Stop! I will deal with this.”

The man who approached from the storm was tall. The sand seemed to blow around him, leaving him untouched. His upper torso was bare, bronzed and muscled, and his lower body was covered with an elaborate skirt of interlocking scales. His head was covered by a huge feathered head-dress. On one hip was a long obsidian dagger. As the man moved closer, he smiled down at Gundrek, revealing a mouthful of incredibly sharp looking teeth.

A feeling of dread flowed over Gundrek; he knew who this was. He was standing before Tectuktitlay, the Moon King, ruler of Draj.

Briefly looking behind him, he growled down to the girl, “Run. Get the others, whoever you can, and run! Don’t look back. I will give you as much time as I can.”

The girl nodded, her eyes wide, and scrambled away. Gundrek, nodding with satisfaction, turned back to the sorcerer king. Hefting his hammer, he settled into a fighting stance.

The king, seeing his opponent prepare to fight, chuckled quietly.

The two of them circled each other for a moment; Gundrek trying to look for a weakness, and Tectuktitlay arrogantly waiting. With a shout, Gundrek charged, swinging his hammer in a wide arc.

Moving with an almost inhuman speed, the King dodged the attack. Slipping away, he pointed at Gundrek. A bolt of white light shot down from the heavens, striking Gundrek.

Feeling a strange weakness wash over him, Gundrek stumbled. Shaking his head, he let his rage give him strength, pushing away the magical weakness that the Sorcerer King had inflicted.

In a blur, Gundrek again rushed. This time, his hammer connected with flesh, and Tectuktitlay gave a brief grunt of pain and surprise. The king warily stepped away, reaching down to draw his obsidian dagger.

Again the two circled each other. Around them, the soldiers gathered to watch. Gundrek attacked again, but received a long gash on his side as the sorcerer king dodged away. With each attempt to attack the king, Gundrek received a new wound.

Again, Gundrek shouted, swinging his hammer in an overhead arc. Tectuctitlay, sensing that the attack would hit, raised his hand. Suddenly, one of the nearby soldiers was there to take the blow. Hearing bones crack, Gundrek quickly pulled his hammer back, only to feel a stab of pain as the obsidian dagger slipped between his ribs.

Crumpling to the ground, Gundrek gasped for breath. As he turned to look down the street, he saw the young girl watching, her hand over her mouth, before bolting down an alley.

As Gundrek’s vision began to fade, he heard the sorcerer king say, “Take him.”