View source for Baldir BW XXXVII

The frenzied sea whirled, bubbled and crashed from below where Baldir floated to the horizon, where the broiling waters smashed against the towering cliffs of a distant volcanic island.  Frequently, the sky for miles around was torn apart by blue-white light that streaked in all directions, chaotically.  The massed, black, purple and grey clouds swirled, built and crashed into one another, releasing vast blasts of energy: electricity, heat, light and a thunderous cacophony.  Baldir was not sure where the cloud stopped, and the great ash plume began but the fiery rim of the caldera, from which spewed forth great streams of lava, was stark against the darkness.  There too, Baldir saw another bright crimson glow – a serpent, at rest, part in lava and part on rock, watching the storm.  Below, the sea raged, and great peeks of salt water rose and smashed together to create huge plumes of water, like vast, chaotically interspersed stalactites reaching to the sky. Baldir’s eyes were drawn to a point closer to the island where a great whirlpool, flattened all such pinnacles – stretched at the edges, pulled along and downwards in a never-ending spiral.  The dark depths were revealed by the gaping, black ‘eye’ at the centre of the maelstrom.  The warrior-priest was convinced this was a mockery of Odin – the eye all-consuming, not all seeing…   

Close to the edge of this gigantic maelstrom, and immediately below Baldir’s imagined vantage, was a pillar of rock that towered above the watery tumult and pointed up at the sky accusingly.  On the sea-encased stack stood two female figures, illuminated by the white-blue lightning flash and the distant fiery-orange of the volcano. 

“You wished to look upon it my child?” asked a tall, slender, pale woman adorned in grey silk that, in places, clung to her form and, in others, billowed wildly in the wind. The fine silk of her dress, in part, glistened and shimmered and, elsewhere, was dull and lifeless. She appeared ethereal, not quite part of her surroundings, like morning mist that obscured vision but remained just out of reach, insubstantial.  Her grey-white hair too was ill-defined, blending into its storm ravaged surroundings, although it was occasionally illuminated starkly by the flashes of lightning that shot across the dark, threatening sky.  As Baldir watched, the lady turned to address her companion revealing the hideously disfigured half of her face: black, as though burnt and rotten, what was left of her skin was stretched thinly over strong, prominent bones into a hideous grimace of pure hatred.     

“Yes, Lady, it is quite spectacular,” agreed the darkly clad female elf that stood next to the grim, wraithlike vision. Much shorter in stature but far more beautiful, the elf looked on – seemingly mesmerised by the churning sea.  Her deep, charcoal-black eyes mirrored the depth of the maelstrom on which she gazed.  Her strong cheekbones and jawline accentuated the intensity of her gaze and gave her the appearance of possessing a keen, sharp intellect.  But there was more – something of pure evil was inside her very soul.  Her long, black hair was neatly plaited and, despite the howling gale, hung simply down her spine. She wore a heavy, sable cloak – secured at the shoulder to her dark-purple studded-leather armour.  Onto her short, pleated, leather skirt was sewn strips of metal which momentarily reflected the lightning, which reminded Baldir of a fish fleetingly escaping the surface of a dark river. She wore gloves, thick tights and high hard boots, all of which were black.  

“Can you hear Ulva call to it?” the wraithlike female asked returning her gaze to the sky.
The elf paused briefly and looked down to the sea, before answering, “Yes my Lady, she is part of me now.”

“Good, you will need her …This is from where our power will be unleashed on the Prime; however, for now, it is too distant from the Eastern Realm for it to be of significance. That’s why he is here.” Again, the ‘grey entity’ tilted the dark side of her face towards the elf as she nodded to the distant volcano.

“The Serpent? He draws power from your realm, though he is not so aligned.”

“Yet…” the grey mist paused cryptically before floating nearer to the elf and answering more directly, “My father has reached out across the outer Planes to summon all who would aid in the destruction of the Prime to come to us.”

“How so, my Lady?”

“Access to the Prime from Niflheim, and other lower realms, can be made through the mighty Olhydra’s domain. My father has struck a deal, which suits her, for now at least.”
Silence pervaded while the elf seemed to think; Baldir could almost hear her consulting with her own inner demons. Finally, she asked, “Then to where do you mean to have it moved?”

“To Crag Ûn, my dear. To enable us and our allies to bring to the Prime those that would help us secure our future, nearer to those that would thwart us.”

“Is there a Gate there?”

“Not yet, but my father has spoken to the dwarves who reside under the Mountain and played on their fears of the third born.  They have already built a tower to forewarn them of the coming of other planar creatures from the sea.  They will welcome our assistance, at least until it is too late.” 

“And its movement would prevent those from Celestia to continue to arrive?”
Seemingly taken aback, the wraithlike figure appeared less certain, “It may, temporarily,” she replied, before turning again to face the volcanic island, “we may need to place something even more powerful in the dwarven hall once we have achieved our first task.”

“Of more power than the vast depths?” mused the elf, looking up at the grey figure swirling nearer to her.

“Hmm,” answered the ghost-form, considering how to explain better, “it is not just the elemental power of which I speak.”  
The elf seemed not to grasp the wraith’s subtlety and she gave voice to her more immediate concern, “So, we can return my love to the Prime and ensure that he sees the folly of our continued support for all that should disgust us…”

“Exactly, my daughter,” the answer was too hasty thought Baldir, as if it were not a given, “but, for now, we need to focus on assisting the lower planes.”
The elf pressed, sensing some obfuscation, “They would strike down those who came from Lunia first?”

“Yes,” the spirit concurred, “then we control the seas – as you have always wished.  You will build your dominion on the Prime there, on that island.”

“And its name?”

“In my tongue the place where fire and ash meet water and steam is known as Nagrad.”   

“So be it; we shall build a city there, from which we shall control the seas.”

“Yes, you will.  The first-born son of the half-gnome King will help.  They are skilled in many crafts.”

“Thank you.”

The females looked on in silence for a moment, each lost in their own treacherous thoughts; finally, the grey, spirit-form spoke, “Ulva speaks to him; can you feel it?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Then it came, darkening the sky even more, crackling with lightning and wreathed in hail-bearing cloud, the monster that Baldir had heard stories of, Milai’s torturer, the bane of her fleet and murderer of countless thousands of sea elves – Tun Mi Lung.