Xeron

Artwork by the talented Sparkaflame101

Among the foilage and dank undergrowth of the marshlands beyond the shadowed Veil lay the graves of dragons uncounted and uncountable. It is within that unhallowed lair of coalesced filth and shadow and plague where our story begins. In the aftermath of the Great War with the shadows that sought to overpower the Elder Gods - the infinite and omnipotent Dragon Gods that first heralded light and beauty and power into a young and yawning Universe - chaos ensued. Brigades of dragons freshly birthed to the war cause fell like flies and morale fell with it. A disciple of the Shadowbinder's leading General, LightHeart, a young Mirror named Xeron crawled her way from the wreckage of the Battle of Morden's Keep. Time passed and over the weeks following that slaughter, she learned much under the tutelage of the Grand General LightHeart before she left to manage her own lair. Electing to not follow directly in her master's footsteps, she instead turned her focus to furthering her own ends and mastering the skills of combat she'd honed across battlefields all along the world's edge.
Combat controlled her and with time she learned to control it as well, sensing opponent's attacks before they could decide on an attack to begin with. She learned to carry herself with such stealth and attack with such high cunning and ferocity that not even the greatest of shadows could gain advantage. Twice she had been honored by the Shadowbinder as well as the other Elder Gods in secret ceremonies atop mountains inaccessible save for special invitation. It was during one of those rare and hushed events that she was first invited to serve as one of the Shadowbinder's personal guard - one of the elite, a Shadowmancer. She had displayed such knowledge, understanding, and flawless execution on the fields of battle during the Great War that she had been selected to serve in a minor capacity as one of the Mother of Shadow's personal entourage. Gleefully, she accepted, and was immediately tasked with the protection of the Elder God as she went South to the Lairs of Nyarlothotep nestled deep in the heart of the world. The passageways were locked away from the peering world of the living and only the oldest and wisest of Gods knew the whispers that would grant them access. Nyarlothotep was an ancient and disgusting creature, it was true; a loathsome and foul hideousness and true image of everything that a merciful world must hide. But his powers were great and it was known that if the shadows were to ever gather from more than the furtive little fleeting things they were now, something with old Nyar's power must become an ally. The problem was, though, that Nyar did not allow any into his domain unless their souls and beings were enveloped in shadow itself. As the Shadowbinder, she was the embodiment of pure and utter darkness, but Xeron had much immersion to do before her mortal scent was masked to the point where Nyar would not feel hostility. It took weeks in preparation, but at long last Xeron had shed the frail odor of mortal beings and the Mother was sure that Nyar would raise no arms in her presence.

The caverns were dank and perilous, a sheet of impenetrable blackness shrouded well away from the world of the sane and the careful. Here it is that Nyarlothotep, that grotesque beast from the netherworld goaded and taunted the feebler gods of the earth and the land and the sea and sky and where he at length spoke with the Shadowbinder and her pupil. She told him of the great dangers that awaited all of reality should the shadows be permitted to grow at their present rate and he, in turn, replied with coldness when he declined to take up arms beside her. "Pointless," he called it. "Pointless and uneventful." Xeron could see the frustration in the Elder God's stare in those moments when self-control seemed many dragon-lengths away. "If you would be so kind, Nyar, you might even find a good fight somewhere. You must be so terribly bored down here, what with the cobwebs and the fossils." She let her eyes travel to the corners of that dusty meeting chamber where thick spiderwebs hung from the ceiling and piles of what Xeron would hope she'd never know crumbled against the corners of the floor. Nyar scowled and seemed to drift off in thought, but not for more than a moment. When he snapped to, his gaze was firmer than before.

"No."

Shadowbinder breathed in exasperation. "Is there anything we could do to change your mind? I'll even offer my own apprentice as to assist you in your goings-on for not more than 3 moons time." Xeron tensed, but steadied herself when she saw the Shadowbinder steeled as well. She cursed herself for allowing her services to be passed around like a toy, but she knew better than to argue.

"And what use would this thing be of to me?" Nyarlothotep cackled. "She's just a little youngling; methinks she's got the scent of a child about her." Xeron felt a coldness sweep the room and before she could think, Nyarlothotep was behind her with a serrated claw held tight to her throat. She grit her fangs and turned her head to meet the demon's eyes. They were a foggy red and she struggled to find pupils, so she focused on the space between them and spoke. "I am Xeron, Warrior of the Shadowbinder, Veteran of the Great War, and disciple of General LightHeart herself. I was trained by the Heart master before she ventured onto her own and since then I tracked, fought, and killed things much colder and many times deadlier than you." Xeron could feel the weight of Nyarlothotep's stare but she refused to buckle. If she backed away now, he'd think her a coward - or worse. He might even try to attack her, knowing his reputation. She felt her wings unhinge from their sockets and her eyes dilate. Her fangs gleamed despite the dimly lit lair and her claws unseathed. She felt a suddenness from Nyarlothotep and before she could grasp it, he had disappeared again. She blinked, confused, before Shadowbinder's tail tapped her knowingly on the shoulder. She turned round and saw, reclined as he was originally, the maniacal demon himself seated once again on his makeshift throne.

"I do like her, Shades, I do. She's got charisma and that 'wow' factor - reminds me of you a little before you got all formal and boring. I'll accept as long as she works directly beside me when war comes." Shadowbinder bowed her head approvingly and Xeron felt part of her soul leave her body. For a moment, she half-thought she saw Nyarlothotep smile. But in a moment, his scowl had returned and then in another moment she was back on the mountain top in the distant East with the Shadowbinder at her side.

"What was that?" Xeron asked.

"That was him accepting us and then promptly throwing us out," Shadowbinder laughed. "But at least he accepted. I just hope he doesn't underestimate what we're up against."

Xeron thought for a moment. "But...but if he knew we were coming to him, wouldn't he know it'd have been a desperate move? Wouldn't he realize we genuinely need assistance? I don't think he's the kind to take that lightly."

"He doesn't have much love or appreciation for our kind, young one," said Shadowbinder. "He is an egoist. He is already underestimating our ability and is probably doing the same for our enemies. But, he's powerful and I can't deny that. He has the strength to overpower even the Tidelord in a bout and believe me, you haven't seen the Tidelord in a bout."

To be continued...