1.10 The Dread Reed of Verdical

Part I: The Search for Dagaal
Chapter 1.10: The Dread Reed of Verdical

I’m not going to lie, my last conversation with Gwar made me angry. And, if we’re being honest here, I’ll admit I was a bit afraid too. OK, I was a lot afraid – the prospect that Dagaal might be on Terra was terrifying! After all, that dagger was created with but one purpose: to destroy ME!

Gwar’s refusal to help me find it, and his coy attitude about it, only further served to convince me that the big lummox either had the weapon or else knew who did – regardless, I was certain he was in on Baal-Zebub’s plans concerning it.

I fretted about this problem for months – locking myself inside The Cauldron, pondering my next move, and filled with a mix of emotions. Anger? Check. Anxiety? Check. Fear? Depression? Frustration? Check, check, and check.

Quite frankly, I was a mess. I drank — but even the finest reds from my private blood vineyards in Western Gor didn’t help. I sacrificed scores of servants in my experiments — but I just couldn’t stay focused and most of the time botched the results. I even tried changing my wardrobe – but I just didn’t look good in pink and could hear my servants laughing behind my back.

For a long time, then, I just stayed in my chambers and slept – one of the good things about being a god is that you can do that for months or even years at a time if you want to. Eventually, though, I realized it was time for action.

One evening I was standing on one of my balconies at The Cauldron – looking out over the lands of Kra. From my vantage point, high upon the side of the volcano, I could see the bleak, barren landscape stretching out before me. The petrified forest below was a twisted maze of ash-covered trees, remnants of a long-ago volcanic explosion that had left the land scarred and lifeless. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur, and the sky was perpetually overcast, casting a gloomy pall over the desolate terrain – filling me with happiness and setting my mind to thinking.

That’s when I came up with yet another plan. I knew that somewhere, someone besides Gwar was eventually going to see Dagaal or perhaps had already seen it – after all, Gwar was a fool and usually all too happy to show off his prized possessions or run his mouth about things he should be keeping secret. In fact, I was confident the stupid brute was almost certainly using Dagaal while I was still stuck in Illusia being tortured by Baal-Zebub – that meant he’d have used Dagaal in the wars between the Drokka and Derkka. And my guess is that he was probably still using it over in Hyperborea too. Naturally, he didn’t tell me about it during our last vision meeting because he surely thought he was pulling a fast one on me, but in the battle of brains vs. brawn, he never had a chance.

I know what you’re thinking – if Gwar really did have Dagaal with him in Hyperborea right now, why not go over and confront him? Ah, friend, if only it was that easy. Sure, it’s fine for you to suggest that – it’s not YOUR neck on the line. You’re not facing off against a magical blade whose singular purpose is to kill you. And even though I believed my own powers were more than a match for Gwar, I wasn’t so foolish as to underestimate him.

I mean the guy is called the “God” of War for a reason! And I wasn’t about to press my luck in direct combat against Gwar if he had Dagaal – that’s just stupidity.

And for much the same reasons, I couldn’t risk nosing around over there while he was still there. Plus, it’s REALLY hot over in Hyperborea and the heat causes terrible pains in my bones. And if we’re being totally honest, it all just sounded like too much effort to travel halfway across the flat earth to get there in the first place. I wanted something closer, something easier, using methods I was good at.

“There’s just got to be another way.” I mumbled as I left the balcony and turned back into the adjoining room.

The stone walls here were adorned with shadowy tapestries each woven with threads of midnight and crimson. A few flickering torches cast an eerie, dancing light on the two servants who were trying to avoid my sight as they stood in the corners by the door. Clad in dark robes, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods, they kept their eyes cast downward – for they were afraid, yes very afraid. And this filled me with glee – further invigorating the juices of my mind.

Turning back to my thoughts, I continued my musing. My earlier thought that Gwar had likely used Dagaal whilst he was fighting in the ongoing wars between the Drokka and the Derkka back [while I was last in Illusia] was intriguing to me.

“Those wars occurred in Gor and Kra,” I reminded myself as I poured another glass of red. “Both of which were on TerrVerde – right in my backyard.”

I liked the sound of that because that meant that potentially lots of people had seen Dagaal. Lots of mortal people. Yes, I know – I’ve already told you that mortals [like yourself] are insignificant, fleeting beings. Your people’s only true worth was the essence you left behind upon death. Your lives have always been nothing more than a transient spark, a brief flare of existence snuffed out to fuel my eternal hunger. I harvested your souls as a source of power, your suffering and fear enriching my own essence. But that’s not all you were good for!

What else do we know about mortals? They died. And when they did that’s always been good for me because it’s allowed me to not only harvest your souls to feed my own, but it also gave me the opportunity to take your bones to my Necronomicon and ‘converse’ with them – forcing them to tell me what I wanted to know, giving me the knowledge I needed to find Dagaal.

My initial thinking was that I would just harvest a bunch of Derkka bones and use those. With Gwar occupied over in Hyperborea, I’d be free to roam around unfettered – but alas, by the time I was ready to take action, the big galoot had already returned home – and his home on the island of Kagor gave him a bird’s eye view of Gor and Kra. That meant I couldn’t go harvesting in those lands in secret. Arg!

Forcing myself to think, I looked for a new solution to my problem. That’s when I started asking myself more questions.

“Sure, the Derkka were around Gwar a lot.” I thought aloud as I sat down in a comfy chair. “And there was a good chance they had seen Dagaal if it really was here on Terra, but were there others who could have spied that magical blade? And if so, could I infiltrate their clan without Gwar finding out what I was doing?”

A good problem solver is one who asks the right questions, but a world-changer is someone who looks for answers to the non-obvious questions and exploits the secret knowledge he discovers. Once I ventured down this path it didn’t take my superior mind long to hit upon the answer.

Most of the commoners on TerrVerde at that time had a saying: “All roads lead to Rhokki Pass.” This was in reference to the fact that, geographically speaking, the kingdom of Rhokki Pass was a crossover point physically located almost dead center of the Rhokki Mountains, and because of its location, had become the nexus of the primary East-West trade route for the continent – making it a financial juggernaut too. The amount of traffic that flowed through Rhokki Pass was perhaps greater than anywhere else on the planet — making it a potential gold mine for my clandestine efforts.

Why?

Because the Drokka were still very much under my control – or at least my alter ego version of their god Rhokki. And that spelled opportunity!

I jumped out of my seat, ready to take immediate action on my plan.

Unfortunately that’s when my mind’s eye got assaulted by a sudden, unwanted vision. It was an ancient prophecy, whispered by a long-forgotten oracle who’s name at first escaped me. And yet still the reed surged to the forefront of my thoughts.

“Beware the blade that seeks thy heart, forged in shadow and destined to part. From the ashes of despair, a warrior shall rise, wielding the dagger with fury in his eyes.”

The words echoed, reverberating through my consciousness, adding a new layer of urgency to my quest. Yet it only got worse from there – for a new vision overtook my reality – forcing me to witness glimpses of a warrior, shrouded in mystery, emerging from the chaos of an unknown battle.

“Who spoke this tale?” I raged, murdering both of my servants in fury – severing their heads and ripping their souls apart from their mortal coils as they screamed in agony. And that’s when it hit me, “Verdical!”

Once a proud but letter known lumenarc, Veridical was among our ranks during Lucifer’s rebellion. Always an unusual bird, Veridical possessed an unsettling aura, his eyes constantly flickering with glimpses of the alternative realities and different timelines.

This gift set him apart, making everyone wary of him. Never one to share the spotlight, I always harbored a deep-seated disdain for Veridical and he knew it. The animosity between us was palpable, and I remember often mocking Veridical’s cryptic visions in front of Lucifer and dismissing him as a delusional seer.

During the final cataclysmic battles of that long ago rebellion, when Michael the Mighty cast Lucifer and the rest of us out of Illyria, I recalled now that Veridical was ensnared by the forces of this new Middle Plane – trapped in a prison of timeless stasis. Consumed by my own ambitions and the chaos of our defeat, I scarcely noticed Veridical’s absence, assuming him to be another casualty of our failed uprising. Yet, before Lucifer, myself, and the rest of the fallen were trapped inside The Firmament, I remembered now that Veridical’s aura had whispered a chilling prophecy into the void – a reed that spoke of a dagger forged in shadow, destined to destroy a dark god.

When I first heard it, a chill went though my entire being, but I had a lot of problems back then and couldn’t worry about another one of Verdical’s crazy warnings. And then, over the eons, embroiled in my myriad schemes and pursuits, I supposed I buried the memory of Veridical and his foreboding words deep within my mind.

But now, as the threat of Dagaal loomed ever closer, did the echoes of that long-forgotten prophecy resurface, clawing their way back into my consciousness. The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning, the stark clarity of Veridical’s warning intertwining with my mounting paranoia and fear, “By Zebub, Verdical was talking about ME!”

With the specter of Dagaal drawing nearer, I could no longer afford to ignore the haunting words of my old adversary. The memory of Veridical, once dismissed and forgotten, had returned with a vengeance, propelling me into a desperate race against destiny!