Personae Dramatis

Epilogues: Plans Made, and Players Revealed

In the deepest recess of the great fortress Abysm in an ocean that dominates the 88th layer of the Abyss, the Realm called Gaping Maw, sat the Sibilant Beast, Demogorgon, the Prince of Demons, the First Tanar'ri.

This dreaded being, a paragon of chaos, of madness, and evil is actually two beings. A fact known to only a handful of creatures throughout the Multiverse. One head is Aameul while the other is Hethradiah. Two of the multiverse's darkest souls, bound together for a seeming eternity. The heads brooded and plotted, as they frequently did.

The prophecy was a lie! Eleven millennia of plotting and planning, for naught! Hethradiah raged.

Not necessarily brother, misread possibly this prophecy was...but not necessarily wrong. Countered Aameul.

How so!? The Wolf-Spider is free! We now have yet another foe to covet what is ours! Hethradiah mentally shouted.

Demons and dark forces have whispered of this Green Mage. It is we who set him upon this path. Think brother, it will take time for the Queen of Chaos to gather her slaves and minions. And of course the Prince of the Undead and the Dark Prince will vie for favored positions. In this time, powers throughout the Multiverse will align against her. The prophecy only said that the Green Mage would be the Wolf-Spider's downfall. Not that the Wolf-Spider would not rise again. Aameul explained.

So you believe we could gain from this? Hethradiah asked.

Indeed brother. Indeed...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a place that was a non-place, the Green Magi stood next to Prometheus. Across from them were two figures. The most eye-catching was a huge frog-like humanoid. It was dull, brownish-green in color, and stood over 20' tall with the rippling muscles of a titan. Its hide was branded with glowing golden and red runes in abyssal and draconic and it had massive bat-like wings. This was Lord-General Xanzu, vassal of the Prince of Demons. Next to him, was a graceful yet muscular red humanoid, a singular babau demon. Like Xanzu he had multiple glowing brands in abyssal and draconic. This figure's right arm was crafted from highly enchanted adamantite. This was Lord-Captain Yemnon.

"Little Mage. It is good to see you again. Even though the circumstances are grim. For the Sibilant Beast is displeased at your failure to stop the Wolf-Spider's escape." Xanzu stated matter-of-factly. "However, the Sibilant Beast wants to let you know that not all is lost." Xanzu continued.

"How? And what do you mean Xanzu? The Wolf-Spider is free." The Green Mage asked.

"It will take time for the Spyder-Fiends to gather their forces and secure their allies. It is also said that the Wolf-Spider was greatly taxed by his long imprisonment. The Sibilant Beast is willing to offer you and your assassins a second chance to fulfill your end of the pact." Xanzu explained.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a realm of pure anarchy there exists a people who are able to impose order upon the chaos by means of their very will. To actually form pockets of sanity in the realm of the insane. This race is a race of exiles. Refugees from slavery, rebellion and a genocidal civil war. They are one of two races descended from the rebel Gith. The warrior-woman who brought down an empire. They also claim kinship to the sorcerer and mentalist Zerthimon.

In an ancient fortress-monastery far in the wilds of this Maelstrom of chaos a group of advanced students study the ways of the mind, body and spirit. They maintain secrecy from the outside multiverse. All are called students, yet are in reality masters of the martial arts as well as the science of psionics. The seven great masters sit in a circle deep in meditation. Suddenly, all seven "wake" from their meditations with a start.

One looks to the eldest, and speaks in the guttural githzerai tongue: "Could it truly be?"

The eldest student, named Ta'lon, answers with obvious concern in his voice: "It would appear so. I must consult with the Master." At this pronouncement Ta'lon levitates effortlessly to the upper levels of the tower.

Here Ta'lon gently lands upon a floating platform. As soon as his feet touch down a globe of softly glowing white light manifests from thin air and grows to a twelve foot diameter sphere. Ta'lon takes a knee and lowers his head "Master. The news we have received is most dire. It is said that the spyder-fiends have succeeded in releasing Miska the Wolf-Spider. Is this true?"

The globe flares briefly into a blinding light. When Ta'lon is able to see again the globe is gone and he beholds his master. A seven foot tall humanoid, with skin as jet black as polished obsidian. The figure is completely hairless and unclad save for a pair of golden bracers upon its wrist. The figure has the chiseled, graceful musculature of a dancer or a master swordsmen and is hermaphroditic, androgynous and beautiful, in the way a statue is beautiful. But its most unique feature is its glowing white-on-white eyes.

Ta'lon is an old man, even by githzerai standards. He has spent decades in service to the Monastery and has been here since he was but a boy. But he knows he looks upon a truly ancient and immortal being. A scion of a fallen empire that once ruled worlds and dimensions for millennia, this is Qaadej, Wind-Duke of the Vale of Aaqa and General of the armies of the Vaati. The very "Wandering Duke" who helped craft the Rod of Law and the one who wounded Miska the Wolf-Spider oh so long ago.

"Yes, my student. My ancient enemy has been freed. I thought that if the last piece of the rod of Law was hidden here with me that this day would never come to pass. I was wrong." Qaadej answers in a beautiful and melodic voice. Not quite male, not quite female. Qaadej then presents its right hand palm up and within appears a piece of dark, gray metal. Like the tip of a broken staff or rod - and it is indeed that, the seventh piece of the Rod of Law.

Qaadej recites the inscription from the original fully assembled artifact in the ancient vaati tongue: "Though heaven falls, let justice be done. Behold! Law is king" as he reflects on painful memories from an age long ago.