Fawn Post-Yarlug

BWXXXIV - Fawn’s Vision in the Astral Room

- 2nd Age?

- in which Demogorgan trades the Negative Ring for a permanent alliance with the Derro of House of Yarl and permanent access to the gate.

Amongst the hiss of white noise and the crackling discharge of electricity, Fawn just about makes out two disembodied voices. The first is a growling, snarling, guttural sound that seems to comprise two slightly different pitches into a single, albeit discordant, voice. The second sounds old, hesitant – as deep as time itself but without the surety of the next dawn.

“So, Lord Yarl, you are the keeper of the Gate – for which we would pay handsomely to access,” the growl began (Demogorgan?).

“Of course you would,” stammered the older voice (presumably Yarl), trying to be confident, “what guarantee do I have that you will not subjugate us in the same way as you have others in Everinstar?”

“There are no guarantees,” the first voice cackled alarmingly, “save my word.” Once the laughing stopped the same discordant sound broke the hissing background noise, “Of course, the Sylvan elves will not look kindly on your ‘betrayal’,” it smirked, “then again, they have threatened to remove the Gate from you…” Another brief pause was swallowed up in a loud crack of thunder, before the voices continued, “Action precipitated merely for keeping from them intelligence you gained about events in the East.” Then provokingly, “Intelligence, I provided…” (refers to failure to tell them about visions of Gildorian's death)

“They have,” concurred Yarl, hastily, as if prodded into saying something to stop the pain.

Sensing victory and continuing to goad, the snarling voice niggled, “Then they are no friends of yours..?”

“No longer,” agreed Yarl again, “they have lorded over us for too long.” Then, as if to itself, Yarl’s voice whined, “The Arch Mage (Lastar) entrusted us – not them – with this Gate.”

“And you guard it well – as he expected,” soothed the first voice, becoming gentler and harmonious, “You have already denied it to my most hated foe (Orcus), for which I thank you.”

In a more confident tone, Yarl challenged unexpectedly, “What makes you think we will do any different for you?”

“I have something that I believe will be of great interest to you,” the voice continued to mollify.

“And that is?” Yarl tested.

“A Ring;” the first voice became more excited and less harmonious again, “not any old trinket and not like that handed out by the Mage so the dwarves could trifle with workings of the Inner Planes.” The whistling, howling pause in conversation proved that the voice had Yarl’s interest, “No, this is a Ring worth having!” it exalted, “It was Balem’s Ring, overlooked at his death in Aarda by the Arch Devil and subsequently by his folk. A Ring I discovered in his grave, deep under the Minas.”

“Really?” asked Yarl incredulously.

Unperturbed, the snarl continued, “I wondered why his folk were so keen to join with their dwarven cousins to defend the House of Hamar. I thought it was all for the Earth Ring, but even they knew of the greater power that existed in the Rings not surrendered to the Mage.”

“I know of it.” Yarl said almost to himself.

“I thought you would. Does it not interest you?” asked the voice, harmony restored.

Still disbelieving Yarl asked, “You are willing to give me the Ring in return for what exactly?”

“I need free movement of my people across the Prime.”

“You are in retreat, I understand,” Yarl clearly knew the situation well, “Maedus and the Vikrain are held against you, I doubt if you can use Locklastar without convincing the Deities of the Underworld of your need…But why not use Zundar, you have the Ring…”

The lie was not well concealed, “That would be far less expedient, my friend…”

“So, you not only need my Gate, you need me to use the Ring for you,” chuckled Yarl, sensing the prize was close at hand.

“Only your folk have the power it would seem,” conceded the sneering tone.

“Or shall we say, your creatures do not have the necessary attributes…” considered Yarl, before challenging again, “I want more than the Ring if I am to help you.”

Realising it was backed into a corner, there was no use threatening now, “Ask and I shall give – where I am able.”

“I am old, so I ask for my people, not myself.”

“Although you will take the Ring?” chided the voice.

“Yes, I know most of its workings, though I will ensure my offspring have the same knowledge.” Recovered Yarl, “What I meant is, Prince of Demons, I expect no trickery in this accord. My folk will help you provided they benefit in kind and for eternity. In other words, they receive your help in all their endeavours on the Prime.”

“And I receive the same in return?”

“Yes,” Yarl agreed hastily.

“Then we have a bargain my friend.”