Shadows of the Wolf - Dur'Thak

[Fatherchaos]

Another hastily written note is left behind. The slashing script seems deeper, as if written angrily.

Chit,

You should have the leafer I left with Nix. If the sodding mephit didn't get it to you, I'll have words with the bleeding Imp.

Know that you are walking a dark path that many turns ago twisted my worms. Sleep, will not be something you can take easily. Stick with those you know you could trust prior, but do not trust your orbs on them, trust your worms to their rigs.

If the deep dweller that's marked you can bind a Marilith, then you may have a blood on you laughing her spire climb.

You may wish to seek burg-shadows that give slings the laugh. No magic can penetrate the cave of the Rift to my knowledge, and there is another place twisted on this prime that Xoases slings. Hawk will know of these places. Stick with him. I will seek what darks I can, but I know nothing of this key or the mert-bashers running a black one on you.

You may wish to seek the Blood Bard, do so only with Hawk. His worms have hit the blinds enough that he can be trusted. Do not release the key.

And again, do not show me this key you speak of. Best the abyss not catch a skeg through my orbs.

[Fatherchaos]

Dur’Thak walks forward silently, positioning himself to peer over one of the many steep cliff faces in the Firesteep Mountains. Dropping to his stomach, he slides himself to view the deadly lava and movements of the firey Kobolds far below.. The molten rock, bubbling and stirring violently below stir his emotions strangely. The acrid smell, the heat, the ashen air, all entrance the Tiefling and offer a faint feeling of comfort and contentment. As with most things in Dur’Thak’s life, the feeling did not hold long. His abyssal-tainted mind quickly brought him out of the trance, knowing that to be still is to be dead. Inaction had always been a sickness he could not tolerate. On queue, the familiar paranoia and rage slowly replace the briefly peaceful contemplations. With a hiss he observes another Kobold patrol searching his faint trail. Obviously, the Kobolds were not satisfied that one of their own had accidentally fallen into a molten pit with a bit of rope and a large rock tied about the leg. Dur’Thak chuckled, finding such simple traps a pleasure to observe in action. Even as he chuckled and crept deeper into the mountains, slipping silently from stone to stone, he felt faintly disgusted with his own actions. He paused again, momentarily reflecting on his life. Hissing silently again, he chided himself wordlessly for pausing, there was no time to pay heed to such worthless thoughts.
   
  If he were back in the Hive, such a pause would have meant his death.
   
  Finding another precarious location, Dur’Thak quietly set a weak wedge trap to hold a boulder in place. If the Kobold’s didn’t trip the wire and pull the wedge, it would give out soon enough and send the boulder bounding down the path. Cleverly hiding his tracks with the gore of his pursuers.
   
  Content that his path would be fatal to all but the lucky, he chanted a few verses of magic and shifted into a Pixie. How he hated the form ... but it had proven useful enough to make an exception.
   
  Flying off quietly, he sought out the mountain peak he had visited on rare occasions. Surrounded on all sides by a sheer cliff, not much would care to venture there. It had proven to be the perfect spot a few times in the past to reflect.
   
  Pulling out his worn old journal, Dur’Thak runs his scarred hands across the burnt leather. “A prime-century of darks”  Dur’thak thought to himself. He observes the book, flipping through a few pages casually. He pauses to careful observe his maps of the outlands and his research on the Fiends and Celestials, particularly, methods to enhance the strength of their essence.
   
  “So much cant to keep barred from the orbsssss ‘o ‘eh jinkerssss.” Dur’thak hisses to himself. Slowly, he lifts another book. Bound in a strange red and black leather, resembling poorly cured skin, the book is marked with a series of obviously Fiendish runes. Wards perhaps.
   
  Dur’Thak speaks in tongues, watching contentedly as the book folds slowly open to the first page. “Not ‘eh Mimir’ssss rattling box, but it will ssssserve.”
   
  [FONT="]A fresh quill, fashioned from metal to function doubly as a stiletto if need be, is dipped into a faintly glowing ink. The words fill the page with a fiery vigor, and fade to the blackened symbols of the writings of the Baatezu. Dur’Thak hisses as he does so, obviously not overly pleased.[/FONT]
“Dra jong yv dra rrord vyn dra rodaj Coodag' yk ryd dra kaog yv dra dyk kramv rryyrak Y’j ky ryryrk vyn, ry'aran, Y ror ryd jari yd’k avvyryarri. Arar yv dryk Ocikkom kko'r ror conami kdorj dy dryrg myga drai jy . . . Ky z'rr 'kamakk ynjan . . . k'nkykav'm yrmi yr krynyrk jong orj rroyryrk dra Vrynka.”

“Dra yra *Known* dy za ok Zarrono ky'krd oyj yr rodrryrk o va' kmaozyrk kykk. Rrord kyak drod o kornaj cyyg yv cmorg jongk 'ok . . nadnyaraj . . . ci o va' Jny'.  Yd 'y'mj kaaz dra Cmykrdaj Mykrdank gakd kdydrraj yr dra jong drod dra cyyg roj caar dogar dymm yd roj caar kyra raonmi dyy myrk. Raran dn'kd o mykrdan dy ordyyr, arar o Cmyyji romy. Y kodraj 'ydr o va' ydrank dy rodrr o kgak yr dra cyyg, arar yv 'a 'ana 'onraj dy gaak y'n ynck kdydrraj vnyz yd’k maovk. Knyzank 'okda ky z'rr rrord yr drayn nykk . . .Y’z yr oknaazard 'ydr dra J'onrak drod drayn gyrj yk vyn dra zogak. Omm dra koza, 'a vy'rj o cyji yv yra yv dra jaakank, kgyrraj ci dra cmyyj rny'k, nyddyrk cao'dyv'mmi yr dra zy'rdoyrk kokd Jomordron. Ryd z'rr 'ok dy ca vy'rj vnyz dra nyd-cok, kora yrmi drod kra jyj ryd ronni dra cyyg yv jongk.  Dra nyk yrmi kyd caddan 'rar dra kyjjyrk knyzak vy'rj drai kdik’j cok yv kyza cmykrdaj mykrdan. Y’ra ryd kaar ky z'rr 'okdaj avvynd yr omm zi dyrgk. . . yvv dra raoj, c'nr dra cok, orj kad dy kodryrk. Yv drai roj o naom coj cmyyj 'yngyrk drayn krojy'k . . .drai’j rora omm caar kdik’j. Y kryvdaj dy dra 'zcanr'mg vyn o dyrg dy ync ocy'd. . . orj zong drayn kodradyr cok-kyd 'ydr dra monkakd cy'mjank Y ry'mj myvd. Yv dra mykrdan’k kyyrk dy nyka, cakd ryd zoga yd’k zyc yv jykkyrk y'd vnyz dra cyddyz yv o zy'rdoyr aoki. 'okdaj dyrgk . . . Kry'mj rora z'kd jy'cma kdik’j dra kyjjyrk mykrdan.”

“Drod nyk yv ry'nka maj modan dy rodrryrk o kgak yr kmaozyrk kyk rozaj G'rmod. Ci dra 'onjk, 'a ro'krd dra cang 'ydry'd kaagyrk dra nogan. Kaazk ra’k caar n'rryrk o cmorg yra d'ykd dra yra gry'r ok Kiinor vyn o d'nr yn d'y. 'a roj dra cang, ocy'd dy kr'aaga ryz myga o kgok, drar dra kyjjyrk knyzank drod kdoiaj dykkyja d'nraj ronjraoj yr 'k. Zarrono’k kyd dra 'nyrk cangk n'rryrk ran nykk. C'rrr yv 'rrarja ronjraojk omm, ry'mjr’d rodrr o zong zyrg yv drai 'ana 'ana kyrar zycyk yr R'nkd. Y’z ryd d'ykkaj vyn Kiinor, c'd Y’z 'ydr ryz yr dryk. Rakd nyk, 'a gaak dra ronjraojk y'd.  Kyjjyrk cangk. Y’j kdik draz omm yv Y ry'mj kad o'oi 'ydr yd. Drayn cnygar-kmooj-kdyni kkymmyrk cyra-cyk krynaj za o dnyk dy dra cnyrg caokd. Rakd dyza dryka knyzank dryrg drai’na kyyrk dy k'mm dra romy yr za, Y’mm ryrg draz, kdnoykrd dy dra cyyg. Y’mm ryd ky corg vyn ori karark-cy'rj kyk.”

J'n’Drog ko'kak vyn o myrk zyzard, rykkyrk jongmi dy namaoka dra orkan drod roj c'ymd 'k 'ydryr ryzkamv. Ra kdock 'ymjmi od dra kny'rj raon ryzkamv dy namaoka ryk vn'kdnodyyr.

“’Ry'nka draka jongk ona ryd dra krojy' yv o kroja 'rar n'rryrk dra 'onjk rakd dy dra Gyroy’k narard nyk. Kyza dyrgk corg, kra vyrommi kyd ran dokda yr dra krojy' kmora. Y 'onraj ran dra knyra yv k'rr o kgyr, dy koyr vnyz dra r'ykkyrk dy orydran cok yk … rykdmi. Mydr, yn makkan. Ry', kra rok dra jong yr dra cmorg kodrk. Y dnyaj, c'd kyza yjao-kydk z'kd rora dy rodrr cmak dy vyrj dra knyrran.  Kra’k ary'kr 'ynzk dy gaak vnyz dra maovmakk-dnaa c'd kyzadryrk yr za … jyj ryd 'ord ran dy ky ryryrk dyy jaakmi yr dryk.” J'n’Drog rr'rgmak, “ry'nka, kra’j cong dra koza ocy'd za kyyrk vyn o jaak jyk dy dra Ocikk.”

“Y omky 'yk-'okkaj 'ydr Maa vyn o dyrg yn d'y. Yd 'ok … kyyj dy kaa ran omyra kdymm. Yd rok caar o d'nr yn d'y kyrra 'a naommi dnojaj rrord. Ry'nka, kra’k kyd za n'rryrk ryra 'onjk yv r'nkd drod kra’k ryd d'ykkaj vyn kryrk, yn arar ran cnorrr. Drar okoyr, dra rryd’k ojjmaj caiyrj dra ryra dy gaak vnyarj 'ydr o Dyavmyrk. Nrirr, Gyroy, orj ran z'rr omm rora dra koza cmak yr dra 'ynzk dy dn'kd dryk cok. Drar okoyr, ok z'rr ok Y 'onr draz yv zi ‘gyrj’ – Y’ra raran d'nraj kdok yr dryka 'ryz Y’ra vamd ona 'yndr dra rrord.”

J'n’Drog krn'kk od ryk y'r naomygodyyr, kdymm dryrgyrk zykd knyzank dy ca caiyrj dra ocymydi dy 'rjankdorj o kmorady'rraj. “Akkaryommi yra drod ord'ommi ky'krd dy gaak vnyz maonryrk drod vyarjk, arar ‘myrkk, ona ryd dy ca dn'kdaj. Knyzank z'kd morg dra kraan dy k'nryra.“

“Okoyr Y vyrj zikamv myygyrk corg dy dra knyzan’k nykk, om'oik n'mak yv vy'n orj vyrak vyn draz. Vy'rj o knaar-cyccya 'ry roj ro'krd o kgak yr o modrmi cok. Ra jyjr’d kkymm orj o va' yv 'k vy'rj y'd drod dra kyk roza vnyz dra rora raon Rmyrd. Rana’k dra jyramakk zyzyn, dnorgk ry'mj ca vy'rj yv kyza myzkyrk cang, kykkycmi r'zor, maojyrk y'd yv dra rora. Yrkyja rydryrk ry'mj ca raonj. C'd dra kyjjyrk knyzak z'kd roj dy ky rodrr o kgak yv 'rod 'y'mj ryd rrorka, maoryrk dra zyryrk dy kymydr yn kad kdik’j. Ry'nka Y ror’d doga dy dra cmyrjk yr o ‘ny’k rrorra yr Rakk'kk. Ky Y kodraj ovdan dra myzkan, 'ryma dra ydran knyzak kyd kaani yr o rora.”

“My, orj dra dyavmyrk ro'krd o kgak yv dra cang n'rryrk dra nykk 'ryma dra knyza-kyjk jnorg dra knoym-jongk. Kanra draz nykrd. Yv iy' 'ord dy r'rd jongk, mykdar dy o ‘ny’kko'r. Yd’k o kyvd yv dra r'nka. Ry'nka 'ok zi y'r vo'md modan vyn dryrgyrk draz rokocma yv nykkyrk vyn oridryrk. Y gakd or aia yr dra kmyrkan, orj 'rar dra knyza kyjk kry'aj 'k drai 'ard rongi yr dra kmyrkk. Ry'mj rora kdik’j draz omm okoyr! Kdorjyrk ci o rora, rakd dy o ky'anv'm kmyrkan, orj vyrkankoyrdyrk dra 'ryma dyza. Knaod 'oi dy rodrr o zong .. commi kyjk. Rakd dyrg Y’mm z'kd 'yk-'ok 'ydr dra kmyrkan ci zikamv. Kaazk ra’k dogar dy ca o kryvdan. Zykrd rora o 'oi dy rodrr kyza jongk vnyz ryz vyn zi y'r nakaonrr. Myygk myga dra kyj zykrd ca ocma dy ramk za cnyrk vyndr dra cmyyj yr o ryrdnymmaj zorran, yrra ra kdnoykrdark ryk kmyrkk.”

“Mokd rrord yv omm .. Gyroy zoi rora ro'krd o kgak yr 'ri Y’ra gakd ran od kryr’k markdr. K'akk kra ro'krd rrord vnyz dra yra gry'r ok Ocyynr drod dra kmorak ona rrorkyrk, jykokkaonyrk. Y’ra gry'r vyn o d'nr yn d'y ry'. Arani kyrra dra yra gry'r ok Kyrdron 'ok karraj. ‘ry'nka Y 'y'mjr’d damm ran. Ry naokyr dy vymm ran cnoyr-roka 'ydr dra 'yndrmakk jongk yr dryk dy'rraj-yra. Ry' drana’k ry ryjyrk yd.”

“Y ror yrmi d'zcma drod kra’mm rora 'ynzk ary'kr dy 'rjankdorj 'ri Y’z ky rongi yr drod jong. 'ri Y gakd kdok yr ran. Y’ra yrmi gakd rmyka 'ydr o va' knyzak, ror’d kdorj draz zykd dyrgk. Dra cmakyrk kzamm orj ojjma-ryra’j 'ynzk. Kra kry'mj rora dra roka dy cyrj dra 'ynzk dy.”

“Ry' Nrirr rok za rokakdn'rg ok o knyzan. Y dry'krd kra roj dra kraan zyna dror zykd. Yv yrmi Kajjnyr 'ana kdymm kodryrk ocy'd ra’j ca ocma dy zoga rnikdom yv myzcy yr omm dryk krnaaj.”

J'n’Drog rykkak orknymi, orj cakyrk dy kyzkmi ky'n ryzkamv yrdy ryk nakaonrr. Ky von o'oi 'ydr ry jykdnordyyrk, ra 'y'mj rora o caddan rrorra yv ryzyrk dy danzk 'ydr ry' dy arrorra ryzkamv. Dnorkz'dodyyr ra dry'krd, zykrd ca o kmo'kycma zaork kyrar 'rod ra ko' narardmi 'ydr dra Gycymjk orj Kycmyrk.

// Translation from Infernal:

“The dark of the chant for the hated Baatezu is not the peak
of the top shelf choices I’d go vining for, however, I can not deny it’s
efficiency. Even if this Abyssal spawn can barely stand to think like they do .
. . So much useless order . . . purposeful only in scoring dark and chaining
the Fhorge.”  
  “The one *Known* to me as Jennara sought aid in catching a few gleaming pips. Chant goes that a sacred book of black darks was . . retrieved . . . by a few Drow.  It would seem the Blighted Lighters kept stitched on the dark that the book had been taken till it had been gone nearly too long. Never trust a lighter to action, even a Bloody halo. I pathed with a few others to catch a skeg on the book, even if we were warned to keep our orbs stitched from it’s leafs. Primers waste so much chant on their rigs . . .I’m in agreement with the Dwarves that their kind is for the mazes. All the same, we found a body of one of the deepers, skinned by the blood crows, rotting beautifully in the mountains past Dalanthar. Not much was to be found from the rot-bag, save only that she did not carry the book of darks.  The rig only got better when the sodding primes found they styx’d bag of some blighted lighter. I’ve not seen so much wasted effort in all my ticks. . . off the head, burn the bag, and get to pathing. If they had a real bad blood working their shadows . . .they’d have all been styx’d. I shifted to the Umberhulk for a tick to orb about. . . and mark their pathetic bag-pit with the largest boulders I could lift. If the lighter’s going to rise, best not make it’s job of digging out from the bottom of a mountain easy. Wasted ticks . . . Should have just double styx’d the sodding lighter.”
 
  “That rig of course led later to catching a skeg on gleaming pip named Kuhlat. By the wards, we caught the berk without seeking the raker. Seems he’s been running a black one twixt the one known as Pyyran for a turn or two. We had the berk, about to squeeze him like a skag, then the sodding primers that stayed topside turned hardhead on us. Jennara’s got the wrong berks running her rigs. Bunch of unhende hardheads all, couldn’t catch a jark jink if they were were given mibix in Curst. I’m not twigged for Pyyran, but I’m with him on this. Next rig, we keep the hardheads out.  Sodding berks. I’d styx them all if I could get away with it. Their broken-slaad-story spilling bone-box scored me a trip to the brick beast. Next time those primers think they’re going to pull the halo on me, I’ll nick them, straight to the book. I’ll not go back for any sevens-bound pip.”
 
  Dur’Thak pauses for a long moment, hissing darkly to release the anger that had built up within himself. He stabs wildly at the ground near himself to release his frustration.
 
  “’Course these darks are not the shadow of a shade when running the wards next to the Kinai’s recent rig. Some ticks back, she finally got her taste on the shadow plane. I warned her the price of such a skin, to gain from the quipping to another bag is … costly. Loth, or lesser. Now, she has the dark on the black paths. I tried, but some idea-pots just have to catch blex to find the grinner.  She’s enough worms to keep from the leafless-tree but something in me … did not want her to go vining too deeply on this.” Dur’Thak chuckles, “course, she’d bark the same about me going for a deep dip to the Abyss.”
 
  “I also wig-wagged with Lee for a tick or two. It was … good to see her alive still. It has been a turn or two since we really traded chant. Course, she’s got me running hive wards of curst that she’s not twigged for shivs, or even her branch. Then again, the chit’s addled beyond the cove to keep friend with a Tiefling. Rhynn, Kinai, and her much all have the same blex in the worms to trust this bag. Then again, as much as I warn them of my ‘kind’ – I’ve never turned stag on those whom I’ve felt are worth the chant.”
 
  Dur’Thak shrugs at his own realization, still thinking most primers to be beyond the ability to understand a planetouched. “Especially one that actually sought to keep from learning that fiends, even ‘lings, are not to be trusted. Primers just lack the sneer to survive.“
 
  “Again I find myself looking back to the primer’s rigs, always rules of four and fives for them. Found a green-bobbie who had caught a skeg on a lathly bag. He didn’t spill and a few of us found out that the pip came from the cave near Hlint. Here’s the diceless mimir, tracks could be found of some limping berk, possibly human, leading out of the cave. Inside nothing could be heard. But the sodding primes just had to go catch a skeg of what would not change, leaving the moving to soloth or get styx’d. Course I can’t take to the blinds on a ‘ri’s chance in Nessuss. So I pathed after the limper, while the other primes got peery in a cave.”
 
  “Lo, and the tiefling caught a skeg of the berk running the rigs while the prime-sods drank the grail-darks. Serve them right. If you want to hunt darks, listen to a ‘ri’spawn. It’s a gift of the curse. Course was my own fault later for thinking them capable of rigging for anything. I kept an eye on the slinger, and when the prime sods showed up they went narky on the slings. Could have styx’d them all again! Standing by a cave, next to a powerful slinger, and fingerpainting the whole time. Great way to catch a mark .. bally sods. Next tick I’ll just wig-wag with the slinger by myself. Seems he’s taken to be a shifter. Might have a way to catch some darks from him for my own research. Looks like the sod might be able to help me bring forth the blood in a controlled manner, once he straightens his slings.”
 
  “Last chant of all .. Kinai may have caught a skeg on why I’ve kept her at shiv’s length. Guess she caught chant from the one known as Abiorn that the planes are changing, disappearing. I’ve known for a turn or two now. Every since the one known as Sinthar was penned. ‘course I wouldn’t tell her. No reason to fill her brain-cage with the worthless darks on this touched-one. Now there’s no hiding it.”
 
  “I can only tumble that she’ll have worms enough to understand why I’m so narky on that dark. Why I kept stag on her. I’ve only kept close with a few primes, can’t stand them most ticks. The blexing smell and addle-cove’d worms. She should have the cage to bind the worms to.”
 
  “Now Rhynn has me cagestruck as a primer. I thought she had the sneer more than most. If only Geddrin were still pathing about he’d be able to make crystal of limbo on all this screed.”
 
  Dur’Thak hisses angrily, and begins to simply pour himself into his research. So far away with no distractions, he would have a better chance of coming to terms with how to enhance himself. Transmutation he thought, might be a plausible means given what he saw recently with the Kobolds and Goblins.
 

[Fatherchaos]

Dur'Thak crouches low behind a scorched rock, eying his prey. The two  remaining Harpies shriek and search about wildly, attempting to locate what had killed one of their own. The charred remains and burnt foliage indicate only an assault by fire. A large concentrated fire.

Having caught a faint smell of brimstone and an intangible feeling of hate, one of the Harpies ventures towards Dur'Thak's position. Darkness falls about her suddenly. She calls to her comerade as second burst of fire erupts, incenerating everything within instantly. Her call for aid is cut short.

Dur'Thak hisses and lashes his tail with a strange sense of satisfaction. Stepping out from behind the rock he releases the Abyssal darkness. The last Harpy sees only a strangely armored man. Thinking it has the upper hand begins the feathered monstrosity begins to sing. So many males had fallen to her sweet lullaby that the thought of anyone resisting it was ludicrous.

Dur'Thak played the part well, lowering his weapon and staring trancelike to the source of the song. Terrible though it was upon his ears. He walks forward slowly, observing the Harpy relax in her victory. He was close enough to smell her breath now, hot and sickly. In one swift motion followed by a burst of feathers, Dur'Thak mercilessly attacks the Harpy. Surprise and a century of familiarity with his favored weapon work a deadly art. Moments later Dur'Thak stands over the Harpy collecting the best specimen feathers he can.

Leaving behind all the treasure the creatures had gathered Dur'Thak slides into the shadows creeping off towards his next mark. Jinx was of little concern now as This was one of many incidents left in his trail of carnage. Always a creature bearing some magical property or useful essence.

Many hours of stalking later, as the sun began to fade, Dur'Thak caught a glimpse of a woman wandering the forest. An elf no less. He stood silently, watching. The black desire in him boiled, urging him to charge with his blade drawn. Dur'Thak gritted his teeth, fighting with the inner hunger that had gained considerably in strength since the fall of Blood. Afterall, what was left to be concerned for if Arborea would be forever lost. Even if he could not return, the knowledge of it's presence and his efforts to protect it at all costs had given him comfort. Above all things it had kept him sane, even after the trip to the Abyss.

Dur'Thak hissed slightly, louder than he had intended, and slinked off in the opposite direction. He did not want to bring harm to any innocents, even if they were prime-borns. A few more days of unseen travel passed, carrying him towards his next target.

All this effort was after all because of those he cared for. It was only a matter of time before the Abyss would take him, centuries perhaps, but no mater the length of time the road would have an end. Dur'Thak knew of this far too well as he spent most of his life preparing for that moment. In his twisted mind, aiding those he had come to unwittingly respect and care for would offer some comfort in the end.

All of this because Hawklen had thought of approaching the fiends for assistance. To find a way to help Kinai by damning himself. "Primers," Dur'Thak thought to himself, "'ey lack 'eh wormssss 'eeded 'eh deal 'it 'eh lowerssss." Seeking a Baatezu or an Abyssal was certainly nothing but a path for only those who wanted to loose everything and gain little. Dur'Thak knew that only one type of fiend could truely be dealt with, if any could be dealt with at all.

That was one of the many reasons he had been gathering and slaughtering so much. The thought of approaching a Loth had occurred to him, far more than he liked. But there were other methods, more cunning options still left open to him.

He could not kill Zoraje outright, for that would kill Kinai, but the mind of any fiend touched had ways of looking past the obvious.

Dur'Thak paused sadly, thinking of Geddrin and Neppak'yo. His two closest friends on the prime, one lost and the other dead. He had outlived them, as he had many others. Both in years and in luck. Of those he respected and considered a friend only a fraction remained. And he had no intentions of finding more. The thoughts of his remaining friends, the very few outside of Kinai and Hawklen made him pause longer than he had intended.

"Rules of three" Dur'Thak reminded himself, regaining his composure. He chuckled to himself as he eyed a Dark Treant alone in the distance. "'eh damed ssssaving 'eh addled." Dur'Thak eyed the tree carefully. He knew that his spells were nearly spent, that it would be much more wise to regain his spells and rest his sword arm. Dur'thak was not known for being patient, however.

Quietly he flamed his weapons with a runestone, and placed his remaining wards about himself. After completing the intricacies required for a spell of Haste, Dur'Thak charged after the blighted Treant.

Time was of the essence after all.

[Fatherchaos]

Dur'Thak remains motionless, his breath nearly still. Anyone observing him might think of him a corpse. Such was his goal. It took a very long time to train himself to sleep so motionless and it often proved less restful than he desired, if rest was in fact attainable. Many reagents had been gathered and brought back to one of his hideaways in  the firey mountains. A faint shrill sound wakes him with a start. A few vials he had passed out observering are knocked over, spilling their contents to the ground. Dur'Thak hissed loudly, forgetting the sound that woke him. Hours of work had now be wasted because he was not careful. Dur'Thak pounds his fist against the hidden cave's wall in his rage. The rage and hunger had grown considerably, and Dur'Thak felt as if he was loosing control. "Focusssss" he scolded himself through gritted teeth.

As he silently seethes, he hears the shrill sound a second time. Such an oddity was too much for the paranoid Tiefling. Quickly gathering all his gear he then crept silently to the entrance of the cave. Recovering the thorny brush, Dur'Thak looked about one last time to ensure that there were no eyes observing him.

With a few magical incantations he flies off from the cave entrance. Mostly allowing the small pixie form to be blown about by the updrafts. In a few hours the spell would expire and he would be back on land.

[Fatherchaos]

"N'makkkk yv Drnaa, Mo' yv ykkykkkkydakkkk . . ." J'n'Drog z'ddank dy ryzkamv, narya'yrk o zok ra roj koyrkdogyrkmi rnaodaj o va' iaonk oky.

"Myrk rora Y caar dnokkaj yr dryk knyza. Iad Y rora kny'r zyna okond vnyz draka knyza-cynrk dror arar drai ror yzokyra. Ok Y rora om'oik kkymmaj, dra knaodakd arazi yk yra'k y'r cok. Ojjmaj-nyd-n'rryrk 'rrarja cok od drod. Vyn o d'nr Y roj vy'krd vyn ryrdnym okoyrkd dra Ocikk. Om'oik jy Y vaam yd rno'myrk 'ydryr, c'd Y roj d'zcmaj dy dra jong drod Y roj kyzary' koyraj ryrdnym."

J'n'Drog rr'rgmak, o rymmy' akknakkyyr yv ryk yrran d'nzyym.

"Yd 'y'mj kaaz ry'aran drod ok om'oik, zi 'ynzk ona zi knaodakd 'aograkk. 'ydry'd kykrd yv nad'nryrk dy dra y'dmorjk, Y vamm dy dra cmaogan'k kdik'okraj rrord. Y roj mykd zi vyr'k, orj dra Ocikk 'ok . . . yk . . . kaamyrk dra zong-zyrg yr zi roka."

"Yd yk ci dra voyrdakd m'rg yv o Doron'ny yr Rakk'k drod Y yncaj zikamv d'nryrk dy dra my'ank. O ra' vyr'k orj o dyk-kramv gaakan dy zong ry'. O rrorra."

"Y 'ymm oyj draka knyzank vyn o dyrg."

J'n'Drog rykkak orknymi, kdymm ryzyrk dy danzk 'ydr ryk y'r 'ynjk.

"Rm'amakk ok drai ona, yd yk cakd drai nazoyr kryamjaj vnyz dra morraj dn'a rrord yv dra nyrk. Knyzank z'kd jyr'd rora dra roka raajaj vyn dra kdika yv dra ranka caiyrj. Drai'j ky vyn o kkyna-rmyzc ryryrk dy naorr Kykym."

"Or 'rkaar knydardyn kanrokk. . . Dra rani k'nkyka yv dra rad'yng. Omdry'kr Y r'akdyyr zi y'r Ojoz'k kyrgrakk. Oz Y d'ykkaj dy ramk draka knyzank caro'ka Y jakyna dy jy ky? Yn oz Y z'kd vmykkyrk dra Vrynka caro'ka Y raaj dy gaak zi cmorg-'ynzk zongaj dymm Y oz vnaa."

"O jong dy 'ryrr Y 'ymm ryd aokymi d'zcma. K'na ok zyjnyrk zonrr, Y'j rodrr dra vynkd kyndom corg dy 'rana Y camyrk. Omdry'kr. . . Y rora jaryjaj dy dnoyr Rakk'k kko'rmyrkk" J'n'Drog my'ank ryk raoj kojmi vyn o zyzard, yr r'ayd ryrdazkmodyyr.

"Y'ra zongaj zi 'ynzk dy dnoyr Rakk'k kko'rmyrkk, orj dra yra yv Gyroy, dymm drai ror k'nryra dryk knyza orj caiyrj. Dry'kr . . . Y . . ."

J'n'Drog rmykak ryk cyyg, ommy'yrk dra kmy'yrk n'rak dy voja orj kdonak od yd vyn o myrk 'ryma.

Dny'cmaj, c'd kyza'rod ryrdard, ra nadynak dy ryk k'zzyryrk dy'an orj ryrdyr'ak ryk nakaonrr yr dra akkarra yv o cayrk. Dniyrk ok aran dy 'rmyrg dra kydarri cad'aar dra krikyrom orj dra ryr-krikyrom. Dra krojy'i raoj yv dra Ocikkom ry'man knordaj ci Ozonyk 'ok knyryjyrk kyza rani 'kav'm yrkykrdk.

-------------
Translation from Infernal:"Rulessss of Three, Law of oppossssitessss . . ." Dur'Thak mutters to himself, reviewing a map he had painstakingly created a few years ago.

"Long have I been trapped on this prime. Yet I have grown more apart from these prime-borns than even they can imagine. As I have always spilled, the greatest enemy is one's own bag. Addled-rot-running unhende bag at that. For a turn I had fought for control against the Abyss. Always do I feel it crawling within, but I had tumbled to the dark that I had somehow gained control."

Dur'Thak chuckles, a hollow expression of his inner turmoil.

"It would seem however that as always, my worms are my greatest weakness. Without sight of returning to the outlands, I fell to the bleaker's styxwashed chant. I had lost my focus, and the Abyss was . . . is . . . peeling the jark-jink in my cage."

"It is by the faintest luck of a Tanar'ri in Nessus that I orbed myself turning to the lowers. A new focus and a top-shelf keeper to mark now. A chance."

"I will aid these primers for a tick."

Dur'Thak hisses angrily, still coming to terms with his own words.

"Clueless as they are, it is best they remain shielded from the lanned true chant of the ring. Primers just don't have the cage needed for the stype of the verse beyond. They'd go for a spire-climb vining to reach Sigil."

"An unseen protector perhaps. . . The very purpose of the network. Although I question my own Adam's sickness. Am I twigged to help these primers because I desire to do so? Or am I just flipping the Fhorge because I need to keep my black-worms marked till I am free."

"A dark to which I will not easily tumble. Sure as modrons march, I'd catch the first portal back to where I belong. Although. . . I have decided to train Nepp's spawnlings" Dur'Thak lowers his head sadly for a moment, in queit contemplation.

"I've marked my worms to train Nepp's spawnlings, and the one of Kinai, till they can survive this prime and beyond. Though . . . I . . ."

Dur'Thak closes his book, allowing the glowing runes to fade and stares at it for a long while.

Troubled, but somewhat content, he retires to his summoning tower and continues his research on the essence of a being. Trying as ever to unlock the potency between the physical and the non-physical. The shadowy head of the Abyssal howler granted by Amaris was providing some very useful insights.

[Fatherchaos]

J'n'Drog nakdk jaak yr dra jakand k'nny'rjyrk O'jynyo. Ryk 'zcanr'mg vynz m'zcanyrk k'yvdmi drny'kr dra ryd korjk. Ok om'oik, ra zyrak caiyrj kykrd 'rjan cydr zokyr orj rod'nom ocymydi. Ovdan o myrk Dnag ra kaddmak r'yadmi caraodr o nyrg rmyvv vora. Yr dra jykdorra ra vaamk dra k'cdma rycnodyyrk drny'kr dra nyrg yv o vammy' dnoraman.  Ryk ocikkom d'nraj 'zcanr'mg zyrj r'yrgmi ryrkyjank dra yrjyryj'om yr dra jykdorra ok vnyarj, vya, yn vyyj. J'n'Drog jyjr'd narykryga dra dnoraman, 'ry 'rvynd'rodami drar jyj ryd koyr dra knydardyyrk yv o vnyarj.

J'n'Drog dogak o kmy' kdak, cakyrryrk dy kdomg dra 'oi'onj yrjyryj'om, vaamyrk dra r'rkan yv dra yrkodyocma 'zcanr'mg. Dra kkamm voymk, akro'kdaj vnyz ry'nk yv zoyrdoyryrk dra kroka, z'kd ok J'n'Drog cakyrk dy yrrnaoka ryk kdomgyrk kora. Ryk rakd vyydvomm 'ok drod yv o vozymyon kyvdmi kojjaj orj raorymi 'ynr cyyd. J'n'Drog ko'kak o zyzard, kdonyrk yrdy dra jykdorra od dra dnoraman. Dra 'zcanr'mg'k vyanra r'rkan ry' nakmoraj ci J'n'Drog'k y'r Ocikkom jakynak. Vnyz r'rkan dy kyzadryrk jongan.

Ra ko'kak, kmy'mi zy'dryrk dra 'ynj "vyr'k" yran orj yran okoyr yr Ocikkom, dra yrmi 'ynj ra gry'k yr ryk 'rodyra' dyrk'a. Yrvanrom roj myrk kanraj yd'k k'nkyka, c'd yvdar ro'kaj yrmi zyna vn'kdnodyyr.

J'n'Drog rmykak ryk aiak, cnaodryrk jaakmi, drar kmokrak norjyzmi od dra oyn. Vyr'k orj jakyna najynardaj, ok om'oik ryk yrmi 'aokyr okoyrkd ryzkamv.

Kaddmyrk yrdy dra krojy'k, J'n'Drog k'mmk vyndr ryk ra' r'ymm orj zy'nrom. Dra n'rak vmokr kmykrdmi 'ydr or aanya kmy', orgry'majkyrk drayn zokdan, ok dra cyyg vymjk ykar dy dra rakd oroymocma azkdi koka.

"Y rora vy'rj kymora yr oryyjyrk dra knyzak. Jaak yr dra jakdrk yv ori'rana Y kong zi ynck vyn o dyrg. Yd 'y'mj kaaz drod zi cok karkak o rn'am d'ykd 'kyr dryka Y *know* ok o vnyarj yr kyza zorran. Y yncaj Gyroy ok Y 'ok kodryrk ocy'd, kodranyrk dra modakd kad yv akkarrak dy navyra. Y gra' ran nyk ok kyyr ok zi 'ynzk d'nraj yr ran. Ovdanomm, Y roj vmaj zi y'r ryza von makk knakonaj. Kra 'okr'd d'ykkaj vyn dra rrord, 'rod knyza yn ny'rjan 'y'mj ca. K'nknykaj Y zongaj zi 'ynzk ok Y jyj."

"Ori dyrg, kra'k kyra nyk'a yr ran rykk. Dogyrk dra yra *known* ok Ro'gmar'k k'jjar jykokkaonorra jongan dror Y'j dryrg kra 'y'mj. Yvv dy dra ry'myrk 'yrjk kra kkymmaj drod ra zykrd rora caar ryryrk vyn. Yv ra rok z'zkaj dy Korjazyry'z, drar cakd yv m'rg. Ra'mm ryd nad'nr oridryrk makk dror Kyokaj caiyrj arar dra kronk ynck yv dra vodaj. Kra rmyrkk dy ryka orj jakkoyn ok yra. Yd yk kyyj drod Y rora ryd ommy'aj zikamv dy doga dy dra kyrg-ojoz vyn ori zyna knyzank yn Y'j ca kaamaj yr dra cok myga Y 'ok 'rar Y mykd dra ydrank. Yrmi yra ykdyyr vyn dra cokk 'odrryrk o jny'ryrk kdik-k'yzzan . . . zyra yr."

"Y Ojoz'j 'ydr ran o cyd dy kaa yv kra ry'mj kdorj vyn rankamv. O va' joik yv kymard dnoram, cakd ryzkori Y'ra aran roj 'ydr ori knyza, orj 'a vy'rj y'nkamv nyydaj yr O'jynyo."

"Drod 'ok ary'kr vyn dryk cok dy d'zcma drod kra ry'mj k'nryra yr ran y'r yr kymarra. Ky Y mavd ran drana yr O'jynyo dy kaa yv kra ry'mj ry' kdorj dy 'orjan vyn o d'nr ok Y roj. Y'mm rora Ryk gaak ynck yr ran cydan dy zoga randoyr dra kko'rmyrk jyakr'd kdik ydkamv. Yv raaj ca Y'mm kaa yv kra ror ca noykaj 'ydr dra ynkroraj kko'rmyrkk yv orydran."

"'kamakk kko'ryrk ... Y'j cong drod knyzank ona rydryrk zyna dror Myz-Myz'k yv Y 'okr'd rokaj ci ky zori yv drayn gyrj."

"Y 'ymm vyrj zi 'oi yvv dryk c'nk 'rar Y rora knakonaj orj kaomaj dra mokd d'y nykk Y'ra kad rrord drod Y 'y'mj vyrykr. Dra Kyndom dy dra Ocikk orj Oncynao zoi rora mykd drayn orrryn yr dra kryvd . . . c'd Y'mm vyrj o 'oi dy cmydg corg dy dra y'dmorjk yv Y rora dy doga omm dra rrorra yv o Doron'ny yr Rakk'k."

J'n'Drog nad'nrk dy ryk nakaonrr, zongyrk o va' zyryn jykryranyak yr ry' dy rrorka yra'k krikyrom vynz kanzorardmi 'rar yrv'kaj 'ydr dra knykan akkarrak. Ryk nakaonrr 'ok von vnyz ryzkmada, c'd dra knyknakk 'ok ary'kr dy cnyrk o nona kzyma dy ryk ryjjar vora.
Translation from infernal.

Dur'Thak rests deep in the desert surrounding Audiria. His Umberhulk form lumbering swiftly through the hot sands. As always, he moves beyond sight under both magic and natural ability. After a long Trek he settles quietly beneath a rock cliff face. In the distance he feels the subtle vibrations through the rock of a fellow traveler.  His abyssal turned Umberhulk mind quickly considers the individual in the distance as friend, foe, or food. Dur'Thak didn't recognize the traveler, who unfortunately then did not gain the protections of a friend.

Dur'Thak takes a slow step, beginning to stalk the wayward individual, feeling the hunger of the insatiable Umberhulk. The spell fails, exhausted from hours of maintaining the shape, just as Dur'Thak begins to increase his stalking pace. His next footfall was that of a familiar softly padded and heavily worn boot. Dur'Thak pauses a moment, staring into the distance at the traveler. The Umberhulk's fierce hunger now replaced by Dur'Thak's own Abyssal desires. From hunger to something darker.

He pauses, slowly mouthing the word "focus" over and over again in Abyssal, the only word he knows in his 'native' tongue. Infernal had long served it's purpose, but often caused only more frustration.

Dur'Thak closes his eyes, breathing deeply, then slashes randomly at the air. Focus and desire redirected, as always his only weapon against himself.

Settling into the shadows, Dur'Thak pulls forth his new quill and journal. The runes flash slightly with an eerie glow, acknowledging their master, as the book folds open to the next available empty page.

"I have found solace in avoiding the primes. Deep in the depths of anywhere I park my orbs for a tick. It would seem that my bag senses a cruel twist upon those I *know* as a friend in some manner. I orbed Kinai as I was pathing about, gathering the latest set of essences to refine. I knew her rig as soon as my worms turned on her. Afterall, I had fled my own home far less prepared. She wasn't twigged for the chant, what prime or rounder would be. Surprised I marked my worms as I did."

"Any tick, she's gone rogue on her cogs. Taking the one *known* as Hawklen's sudden disappearance darker than I'd think she would. Off to the howling winds she spilled that he might have been vining for. If he has jumped to Pandemonium, then best of luck. He'll not return anything less than Xoased beyond even the sharp orbs of the fated. She clings to hope and despair as one. It is good that I have not allowed myself to take to the sick-adam for any more primers or I'd be peeled in the bag like I was when I lost the others. Only one option for the bags watching a drowning styx-swimmer . . . move on."

"I Adam'd with her a bit to see if she could stand for herself. A few days of silent travel, best company I've ever had with any prime, and we found ourself rooted in Audiria."

"That was enough for this bag to tumble that she could survive on her own in silence. So I left her there in Audiria to see if she could now stand to wander for a turn as I had. I'll have Nix keep orbs on her biter to make certain the spawnling doesn't styx itself. If need be I'll see if she can be raised with the orphaned spawnlings of another."

"Useless spawning ... I'd bark that primers are nothing more than Lim-Lim's if I wasn't caged by so many of their kind."

"I will find my way off this burg when I have prepared and sealed the last two rigs I've set chant that I would finish. The Portal to the Abyss and Arborea may have lost their anchor in the shift . . . but I'll find a way to blitz back to the outlands if I have to take all the chance of a Tanar'ri in Nessus."

Dur'Thak returns to his research, marking a few minor discoveries in how to change one's physical form permanently when infused with the proper essences. His research was far from complete, but the progress was enough to bring a rare smile to his hidden face.

[Fatherchaos]

Dur'Thak rose slightly, peering over the edge of the cliff. Below he could see the shuffling of the Kobold minions. He had avoided them for some time in the firey mountains - content in his solitude and research. Few creatures could reach the very peaks, and even less could bore through solid rock. Dur'Thak felt glad for a moment that his Umberhulk form had additional uses besides tearing smaller creatures apart.

After all, that was the point of it. To see what additional uses lay hidden behind the surface. Dur'thak thought of this for a moment, remembering how he had survived almost completely off his summons for the last few years. Dur'Thak wasn't quite sure, but he believed he had developed a taste for Celestials - at least their dogs. Something about them was . . sweeter and intoxicating.

It was a clever way to survive. Summon an unwary creature to eat and put them down with an ice storm to also produce water.

In time Dur'Thak's research had turned inward and he found himself reflecting for many months on what he was. All of this circled around his failed attempt to return to his true home in the planes. To seek the Outlands he felt that he so loved by means of the wooded realms of his planer born Elvish kind. Only to find himself cast into the Abyss.

Slowly his question turned inward. No longer did he care for what he was, he was a type of fiend, even if the least of the lessers, and that would never change. He instead questioned who polluted who - the Elf or the Abyss. He had asked the question once before aloud to another before he was torn from his beloved and hated Arborea. He had contemplated the question many times of since. "Am I Demon or am I Elf."

Carefully scribed in Elvish on the front of his black fiendish rune laden book was a simple passage with the conclusions of his long solitude.

"It is the Elf who taints the Abyss."

Dur'Thak looked down at the Kobolds once more. Cloaking himself in invisibility he began the slow descent back to the cities. He had done this before. Always when questions lingered too deep in his mind did he come to the fiery mountains. Each time he returned more slowly and more hateful than before. But this time he returned fully at peace with what he was.

He would find a way to purge himself of his love for Arborea, of the Elf taint, of all that made him weak amongst his own 'kind.'

But first he would need to head back to his home and bathe. He never did perfect a good alchemical soap and ice storms rarely left much more than what was needed to drink.

Dur'Thak chuckled at the thought. Strangely enough the smell of a filthy Tiefling reminded him of roast lizard.

[Fatherchaos]

A warm breeze settles over him carrying the whispers of an ancient forest. His eyes are closed, but he feels a sense of safety, of home.
   
   His eyes open slowly, adjusting to the soft light and shadow of the forest. Gone is that horrible and unnatural blazing orb in the sky. Instead, the land about him is bathed in the natural ambiance of the outer planes. Natural to him anyways. He reaches out to feel the tall grass and ferns growing everywhere. Everything feels familiar, feels safe.
   
   But there is a constant nagging feeling, as if standing in a large patch of utopia in the middle of an unseen war. That uncomfortable feeling that walls will fall and leave everything in ruins. But that feeling passes and once again the calm whispers of the forest return.
   
   In the distance he notices a deeper shadow, apparently cast by a great and magnificent oak. It feels inviting.
   
   As he approaches, the gentle musical voice of an Elven woman calls out.
   
   "Kothanos, you have returned! My dear son."
   
   His heart races.
   
   'Mother?' He thinks to himself as another voice speaks.
   
   "Yes Mother! I brought the wild berries you asked for, and the clay for the hum-ono-clueless."
   
   The mother laughs softly.
   
   He lower his head, sad and angry. The ambient light about the forest fades slightly. As it does he remembers what it is that he hears. Memories. Everything is an echo of things that once were. As he remembers he hears a sinister voice call, as if commanding from somewhere deeper in the dense foliage and ancient trees.
   
   "Focusssss."
   
   He cringes at the sound, even as the light to the forest returns a bit brighter than before. 'Another memory perhaps? From how long ago,' he wonders.
   
   A cacophony of dark whispers races over him, tearing at his feeling of safety, casting doubt and rage upon him, sinking the land around him into a deep darkness. The whispers claw at him like venomous knives, but there is no pain.
   
   "Focusssss!" He hears the sinister voice call again, commanding the whispers to recede. The light again returns to the forest, the song of the warm breeze carrying the ancient thoughts of the trees returns.
   
   The whispers seemed to have a direction though. As if they came at him and retreated from some darker place still. Steeling himself, he follows where he felt that the dark whispers came from. 'Answers perhaps?' He thinks to himself.
   
   Soon he finds a young elven boy, apparently holding a large lizard. The young boy looks up and smiles at him. His eyes are strange though, a deep red, and seem to hold a dark intelligence to them.
   
   "You've come?" The elven boy asks, smirking and showing what appears to be little fangs.
   
   It is then that he notices that the boy seems entrapped by a great many brambles and roots. As if the forest is surrounding and protecting the boy. No, not protecting. Many of the roots that seem to have been near the boy the longest have withered. The forest is holding the boy hostage.
   
   "So, why are you here?" the boy asks innocently, as he continues to pet the lizard.
   
   He remains silent.
   
   "You know, mother told me to keep this safe. Told us, I think." as the boy points to the forest surrounding him. Just then he releases the lizard. But, it is not a lizard. It is attached to the boy. A leathery tail, attached to the elven boy.
   
   "She taught us to focus remember? So why are you here?" the boy asks again, venom thick in his voice and the innocent look in his eyes disappearing.
   
   "Goblin got your tongue? Abishii got your tongue?" The boy pauses. "No, the Abyss has your tongue." He lowers his head and plays with the black branches at his feet.
   
  "You know, I can never reach them? The trees over there. They hold me in place, yet I can never touch them. Always black, always withered." The boys head remains lowered, obviously sad and alone. He whimpers, "I haven't even done anything wrong yet and the council planned to send us away."
   
   "Mother does not think that Kothanos still lives, yet she knows that we still endure. Because it still exists." The boy does not raise his head.
   
   In the distance, another memory calls out, the sinister voice, speaking in the harsh tongue of the Baatezu. "GET AWAY FROM HER!" The voice is carried on a powerful blast of scorching wind and blackness, ringing with the sound of a powerful blade, but eventually passes.
   
   "Will you take the echos away? Let me go?" The boy asks, pleadingly, lifting his head.
   
   He thinks that releasing the boy is the wrong thing to do. The red eyes seem to hold some deep Abyss to them. Yes, releasing the boy would be wrong.
   
   "Focus." Is heard over the forest once again followed by the soft crying whisper of a young woman and the sickening crack of chitin, "Dur'thak, no. . ."
   
   The forest seems to grow angry, and tall. The brambles lash at the boy to bind him in place. He does not scream. The woman continues to speak, but her voice fades in the distance. The last sound seems to be skeletal feet.
   
   "He did this to us you know?" the boy says, lashing his tail around in what appears to be a pointing gesture. "Can't allow one of his kin to live in weakness."
   
   "I am tired." The boy says, changing subjects again. His eyes now blue as the clearest sky. His tail and fangs are gone, but darkness crawls over him. "Please let me rest, will you end this? I am tired."
   
   "Yesssss." he says. The horrific voice again!
   
   No. It is his voice.
   
   He reaches for a blade, he feels daggers in his hand. He raises his hand to see. Not daggers. A talon, made of a darkness that stands out against the shadows.
   
   "It isssss the elf who taintssss the Abyssss." He says.
   
   "It is the Abyss who finally released the boy," the elven boy responds.
   
   "Ressssst now, Kothanosssss, and be no more" he says. The darkness on the boy recedes, like a gate opening to expose a heart.
   
   "I forgive you." The elven boy says. He winks with a final comment. "Don't let mother know, she'll be mad."
   
   The talon falls and darkness and fire spread, consuming the forest.
   
   Where the boy once stood, shackled in brambles and bound in darkness, now exists a tree as perfect as Arborea could create. A small patch of perfection, bathed in light.
   
   However, the forrest around him has changed. The ambient light is gone, replaced by dancing fires, withered trees, and towering razorvine. A horrific forest befitting only fiends.
   
   For him a road appears, leading away from the magnificent tree, and deeper into the darkness. The road seems to descend more than anything, apparently to what appears to be a black bastion in the distance. It is long, but he feels like a walk.
   
   It is then that Dur'Thak awakes to a chattering imp.
   
   "Master, Nix brings a note! No stink primer-chit, for you." Nix starts to open the letter to give to Dur'Thak, but he is wise to Nix already, knows that the impetuous imp already read the note. He waits patiently in the darkness for Nix to finish his acting.
   
   Dur'Thak sits up to read the note, rolling partially out of his bed.
   
   "Master and Nix go find Seras today, yes? Nix miss Noonee-Manoom."
   
   Dur'Thak does't seem to take notice, lost in thought as he reads.
   

[Fatherchaos]

Dur'Thak sits alone in his summoning tower, observing Kinai's home like a shadowy guardian. He rarely faced that direction, as he found the setting sun of the prime to be rather irritating. The whole thought of a planet rotating around a blazing orb in an empty vastness just never felt natural to him.

Kinai's house had been rather empty of late though. Except for a few visitors which he initially thought to be thieves. In preparing his spells for combat he realized they were simply visitors to an empty shell of a home. He had so wanted them to be thieves, to unleash his wrath on them as he had a burgler in the past. Not that the once home of Hawklen and Kinai really needed protection. Dur'Thak just needed a focus to direct his ever present rage.

"Focusss" Dur'Thak spoke to himself, trying to find purpose in the word. He mouthed it once more soundlessly as he recalled a large boulder by a lake, when he first taught Kinai how to keep her "wormssss caged in 'eh brain cage, 'ere 'eh barmiessss can't blex yer rigssss." He knew how lost she had been and taught her to hold herself together when it felt like something was trying to tear oneself apart from the inside.

"Waurzi'th" he said in Dwarven, pausing a long while to remember his lost friend Geddrin. He remembered only camaraderie and a strange feeling of acceptance. As if appearances did not matter as much as hard work and the amount of Goblins and Giants that could be skewered in a good night of battle, followed by a round of gorging on smoked meats and thick bitter ale.

"Oestyla" he said again in drow continuing to search for the meaning the word once held. He spent a moment thinking of Neppak'yo's grave, and the blood-lust he hungered with for some time after realizing that the word Neppak'yo would soon be read by Skall. Many dead things were "re-penned back to the dusssstiesss" in the years it took for him to calm.

"Oenyyla" he said in elven, strangely thinking of Anna'lee and the sense of confusion he felt when he first arrived on the prime material. He tried to recall when he first ventured with her to slay a rat-man in the Hlint sewers, but the deed meant little to him. If she hadn't reminded him long ago he would have forgotten entirely. He barked orders to her and the others to take control of the hunting party. After all, what would the primes know of deep and shadows.

Dur'Thak paused a moment, then spoke aloud in the dark tongue of the Baatezu.

"Vyr'k" he said. No, the Baatezuen meaning went much further and deeper than what the simple translation offered. There was a feeling of revulsion, of being forced by a some power he could not resist, like when the Dragon named Ozlo summoned him. He recalled thinking that he had blitzed a portal, but realized he had been running down a street that was not bound on all sides. Such was the wisdom of a young Tiefling surviving in Sigil. His thoughts slowly turned to rage as his Abyssal nature fought against the order the Baatezu language was formed from. As it did he though of the Blood Bard, as he had called Ozymandias, and his missing friend Rhynn. The first person he had really ever 'befriended.' He thought of how angry and jealous he was of the two. Of the knowledge Ozymandias had that he desired.

Dur'Thak chuckled in grim satisfaction. One of the most powerful persons known to the prime, was not a primer. The thought only served to re-enforce his belief that primers would always be as the name implies, clueless.

However, the satisfaction was short lived as he realized that his closest friends were gone, dead, or missing.

It took a moment to refocus, but he brought his sight back to Kinai's empty home. It was then that he began to feel regret for what he had done.

It was hard for him to accept what he was, but his last trip out to the fiery mountains let him look deep into the Abyss that tainted him. He knew what plans had formed in his mind and did not want to risk his last friend in his paranoid conflagrations.

He had to hurt Kinai so that she would no longer care for him as much, sever that bond somewhat so that if it came to it she would not feel regret. It wasn't that hard to do, he just had to let his Abyssal mind run rampant with words and minor illusions. It was strange to watch the cantrips display his own memories and twisted visages of Sigil. It did not even appear that he had started to push her away. At least not until she tackled him to the ground.

Dur'Thak rubbed his jaw and remembered the pain in his back. For such a small frame, she was stronger than most Giants. Aside from the pain, he remembered how hard it was to resist his own paranoid nature and not pull his blade on her.

But it was done. He had set her free of her affliction for him, had erected enough of a wall between them that there would be no regret.

And now she was apparently gone.

"Rulesss of Three" Dur'Thak said absently, turning away from Kinai's home to darken the windows.

He had preparations to make and no time to spend on weakness, and learning the Abyssal tongue will take time and perseverance.

[Fatherchaos]

Dur'Thak sits silently in the tree tops of an Elven city on Voltrex. Throughout the trees birds chirp and animals skitter about, except where he resides. His presence has created a tiny void in the expansive forests. Whether it is his Abyssal taint or his obvious signs of agitation, he has not been able to determine. But even the most curious of animals seem to give him the distance potential prey might to a foreign predator.

The ever present calm surrounding the Tower of Nature is a wondrous thing to behold and even more so to feel. However, it grates on every nerve and sense of self preservation the addled Tiefling has come to live by over his many years. Such complacence can only lead to destruction. After all, to survive one must always be on guard - enemies lurk everywhere, especially from within one's own self. In moments of peace one must be even more aware and prepared. Afterall, so many allowed themselves to succumb to the illusion of safety. If any knew of their presence or purpose a fight would have meant only slaughter.

Primers just never understand.

Dur'Thak writes cryptically in the Infernal language, obviously concerned if he is being observed.

"I find myself where I thought that I would never be again; In the shadow of the Elves and their Councils. Though I come here by the will of my own cage and bag and not because of the barmy birdcage I fled.

I had considered that perhaps the many turns have had my worms hit the blinds, so I listened to catch the true cant spilled from the bone-box of a top-shelf blood.

And I remain correct.

A simple statement put all my worms counting portals to the styx. "We know what is best." Niasa, Council of Elders, Orders of the Fallen Tree, rising sapling, and sprinting rabbit - no matter the name the thought factions take they remain the same. Planer or Primer, their worms rot with the short orbs of the Hardheads.

If it wasn't for the leather-headed cages of these councils I would still be amongst the planes 'twixt I belong.

I remain deeply torqued that these primers presume to keep a piece of me. A sample, and the deep stype, have been taken."

Dur'Thak hisses darkly, retribution obviously on his mind.

"The piece of me is to be destroyed once I give this burg the laugh. Best mark the turn for a tick soon. Their limited primer cages seek to lann my lineage. What lineage does a xoased Tiefer truly carry?

Such limited worms.

I must mark that my face has been orbed, a sample taken, and my 'lineage' amongst the leafers provided. I would not pass this bit to my most trusted Adams, yet it was a . . . necessary cost. All things worthy cost more than the reward. Too bad I didn't have a tick to prepare the jark-jink on this.

I do find myself laughing in the Lady's shadow on the rig I have begun here. Of all bags, I would consider myself the least . . . willing to aid the leafers here. Though . . . there is some semblance of a kip I once kept chained too as a spawnling."

Dur'Thak looks up into the tree tops, his constant tail lashing slows until he is almost perfectly still. To any observing him it might appear as if he had slowly petrified. Were it not for his eyes slowly scanning the trees and light rays above him, he would seem almost devoid of life.

A few last cryptic lines are written before he closes his black bound book and reactivates it's protective wards.

"Arborea is gone, and I've lost the keepers on why this bag continues these rigs.

The greatest enemy is from within . . . From within the bag . . . from within . . . from within the Niasa and the Councils that bark the barrakin? Fools all be the clueless."

Dur'Thak sits motionless in the trees, a deep sadness evident in his otherwise ill-tempered nature. After a long time, Dur'Thak finally turns his attention to something carefully tucked within one of the plates of his chest armor. The remains of what would have appeared to be a very large leaf.

After a short while Dur'Thak begins his descent from the trees. He moves with an shadowy elven grace as he quietly slips down the tree to the platform below. His prickly manners return like a warrior lifting a shield to protect himself as he begins to walk the length of the platforms in contemplation. As he walks he avoids coming too closely to anyone, altering his path regularly.  The stares and incredulous looks of the native Elves go un-noticed, lost in thought as he is.