The Deepholme seemed surreal to some. Activity buzzed with everyday life, as if nothing had ever changed. To some, the realization lingered hidden in the back of their mind; it did change. Everyone was ordered to act as if life has always been this way, and so all obeyed. It was not a bad life for the Ilythiiri elves, especially if you were a male, whom now shared an equal standing in their society, including the privilege of having a male Prime’Arc. Three weeks ago, the last of the old dark elf houses fell into ruin. Those who did not surrender or die, fled to the caves closer to the surface.
For Prime’Arc Don’Kallard, life was good in the Deepholme, by his standards and his measure. He had want for almost nothing, and lacked but for one thing, his son. He took great relief that the Demon Balfurous did not linger as much as he had feared. On occasion the demon would cause a minor problem related to destruction or death, but primarily it would wander, deeper and deeper, and on more frequent occasions it was not spotted for many cycles. The Prime’Arc who fancied himself a master of behavior, knew that it was not wandering; it was searching.
* * * * *
While searching the depths of the Deepholme, Balfurous happend upon a Nagarep. The society of Morlens within, although powerful in their own habitat, found that they are no challenge for an Abyssal Lord. A brief and bloody battle ensued, and Balfurous eventually disengaged after subjugating many of them with his mark. Pleased by his latest crop, he gave them their commands and then continued his search…
* * * * *
The long ago Sultan, Pasha Pelledour awoke in the bed of his traveling wagon, covered in sweat and shaking from the shock of it all, another prophetic dream, or perhaps only a nightmare. His caravan was halfway through the rift and would be arriving in Travance in many days. His dream was about the meeting they were to have with the Church of Visagalis, it was shrouded with violence and blood and so he did not understand. Joshua X insisted that this meeting was paramount to their plans, and after this dream, Pasha Pelledour realized just how much faith he had put into the strangers words. Sometimes his dreams where not literal, sometimes they were figurative, sometimes they were merely suggestive, and sometimes they were wrong. There was no turning back in Pasha Pelledour’s mind. They had come this far and they would see this through, for there was still much to be done.
