Yaels Death

Fingers stroked the hair one last time to be sure, Yes the Beard looked good he decided.  He was pleased with the sharply defined edge and neatly trimmed follicles, They added a certain image he was proud of.  He had certain standards to maintain after all.

He turned to look out of his office window, Several dozen lights flashed in the clouds below him indicating more new arrivals to his domain.  They would be processed by one of his Rangels and put to work somewhere within his vast organization.  The Spires were lit and his will was in the process of being distributed, today looked like it was going to be a good day.

With his beard primed he adjusted his robes and turned to walk towards his desk, as he did documents, files and folders started to materialize on it, Arranged in neat orderly rows, stacked for the efficiency of space and color coded for ease of inspection.  He sat in the plush leather-backed chair and shuffled it forwards into the small nook molded into the desk, everything was within arms reach.  He picked up his gold Quill, dipped it in ink and began to write.

Somebody knocked on his door and he raised an eyebrow of curious inquisition, This was unusual and ominous.  Good news never followed such a timid knock.  He put his quill down, took a deep breath, exhaled and leaned back in the chair.

"Enter"  he commanded, his voice reverberated the very fabric of the Universe as if amplified by hidden speakers in the walls.

The door opened slowly and a small face peered inside, It was one of his Rangels.  This one had a smaller halo than the others, obviously, a new entrant tasked with delivering the unsatisfactory news.

"My Lord, We are sorry to be disturbing you, We must reports to ye a Paladin in your divine domain has been slain."  He began as he drifted towards the desk on silent feet, the door slowly closed behind him.

"So?  Send him for processing like any other new arrival, Why do ye trouble me with this mundane event?"

"My Lord, We are unable a request for revivifying was received."

"So send him back then!"

"My Lord, You asked to be informed any time an artifact was detected, The gem used to revivify him has been touched by another God"  

It started somewhere deep down and quickly gathered momentum until a flash second later he was stood, hair and beard aglow with divine energy, his fists clenched and every celestial muscle in his avatar tensed ready for immediate action.

"Whom?"  he demanded in the deep baritone of a God enraged

"It was her again my Lord, she has sent another and they try now to revivify one of your Paladins. We have him on Hold."

Thunder cracked in the room, lighting flashed from his eye sockets and every glass goblet, window and decoration shattered.  The sudden change in air pressure resulted in explosive decompression to most of the office. Scrolls and documents fluttered through the air, some with tendrils of smoke and fire licking at the edges.

He roared his outrage and fury at being defied again, he chose at the last instant not to smite the cowering Rangel before him.  instead, he turned his desk to granite so he could smash it to dust with his mighty fists, laced with red-hot fury.  When he had finished with his desk he smote the office and every object in it.  When he had concluded this, he calmly adjusted his robes, picked a few bits of ceiling out of his beard and sat in his chair again.  When the dust had settled, his Rangel was barely visible, debris and detritus littered around him up to his waist and he was covered in a thick ash.  The top of the building was missing and they were perched atop a slender spire jutting out of the clouds.

"This news vexes you, my Lord?"

"Yes! I am deeply Vexed, This cannot be permitted, she was told like the rest of us, She risks exposing, nay inviting Armageddon when the Betrayers realize we have ....Betrayed them and we are not playing by the rules they will start an open war, This is folly, she knows this but her mortal soul corrupts her wisdom."

"Yes my Lord, What is your will?"

"We shall send her a surprise, Allow the Paladin to Return, Insert a Blessed Vestige into his soul, Bond him with it, So that I may steer his destiny.  She is not the only one who can send champions past the divine lattice gate.  What was the name of this Champion?"

"Yael of Malgarth" My Lord

"I Shall speak with him alone"

He waved his hand and he was stood in a dark void like space where the sound was flat.  A spotlight came on, ****hold person, surgery for Yael, divine spanner fitted with vestige etc.***

"Yael, I am your God, Zivilin, you are joining my ranks at an opportune time and I welcome you as a Brother to my halls.  However, some of us must be sacrificed if all are to be saved.  You have the opportunity here and now to choose, to choose something greater and nobler than you have been before.  My task for thee is to protect all life in Faerun from the demon lord who seeks dominion over your lands, eradicate his undead scourge and any who stand with them.  However, be warned The Demon is not your ultimate goal.  In the end, you must defeat a God who is beyond redemption, One whom we banished eons ago.  On your world he is known as Krishan the Deathbringer, beware for his eyes are everywhere and once you cross back to your plane of existence, past the Divine lattice gate, my ability to intercede on your behalf is reduced.  You will have to rely on those you trust to keep you safe and hidden from his gaze.  Once his minions detect your presence then his Knights will come for you and we are not ready for open war yet.  So be stealthy, be smart and be safe.  I need you to build an army in secret, Allie those whom you trust and can see truth and honor within, forge me a blade that together we can use to pierce through the darkness that looms over your world and all others.//

Yael is taken off hold and his soul rushes back to the mortal plane, with a gasp of air his eyes flicker open to see stars and forest around him. Everything hurts, his muscles are sore, his bones ache, his lungs are burning with fire and the only human reaction is a rapid series of coughs and curling into a fetal position.  He is weak and drained by his ordeal.