Part III:
Chapter 4: Fateweaving
Timeline: AO 255
In the heart of the dread volcano known as Nektar’s Cauldron, far beneath the roiling magma and sulfurous fumes, there lay a hidden chamber—an eldritch sanctuary carved from the bones of the world itself. This was my bedroom, a place where the very stones whispered secrets and the flames danced to my will. My chambers were a fusion of opulence and nightmare, with silken tapestries depicting scenes of torment draped over walls that pulsed with a sickly red glow. The air was thick with the pleasant scent of brimstone and sulfur, and the distant echo of tortured souls reverberated like a dark lullaby. Ah, peace…
Reclining in a massive bed fashioned from blackened iron and obsidian, I was laying beneath canopy adorned with the withered wings I’d harvested ages past from some of my fallen angel brethren. My body was draped in a robe of shadow that sucked at the nearby light but beneath my robes my form was continually shifting. Although I normally appeared in your world as a skeleton, like other lumenarcs I could change my form at will. Upon this evening I allowed my presence to morph at will, casually shifting between terrifying beauty and grotesque decay. Why? Because I was bored and my mind was restless despite the comfy confines of my chamber.
“Another sleepless night,” I muttered, my voice a blend of silken menace and dry amusement. “What’s a fallen angel like me to do when sleep evades him?”
Glancing at a nearby bedside table, my eyes fell upon a polished obsidian box – its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the dark. I made the effort to go over to the box and with casual flick of the wrist, I opened the lid, revealing the Eye of Seraphiel—a shimmering orb that seemed to contain the very essence of fate itself.
The Eye was a relic of immense power, capable of weaving the threads of destiny according to its wielder’s will. It was both a tool and a toy, and tonight, I felt inclined to indulge in a little fateweaving.
Cradling the Eye in my hand, I smirked as my thoughts turned to the Drokka and their incessant intrigues. The rich and powerful families—Rukstinz, Gaatz, Busz, and their ilk—were all pieces on my board, and it was time to make some adjustments. With King Baldur’s reign in full swing, my long-term plans for war and devastation needed a bit of nurturing. The right fates had to be woven to keep the Drokka in check, to ensure that when the time was right, they would tear each other apart in a glorious orgy of blood and souls.
I held the Eye up to my gaze, and the chamber darkened further, the only light coming from the orb as it flared to life. Within its depths, I could see the delicate strands of fate stretching across time, each one representing a life, a choice, a consequence.
“Let’s start with the Rukstinz,” I murmured, my tone a mix of casual curiosity and cruel intent.
I focused on the strand of fate belonging to the Rukstinz, the richest and most secretive of the Drokka clans. Their wealth and influence made them a formidable force among their people, but not but a trifle to me. With a lazy twist of my fingers, I began to weave.
“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” I whispered, as the strand shimmered and twisted under my control. I saw their future unfold—a series of seemingly fortunate events that would lead the Rukstinz into a false sense of security under the elder Lord Thane.
Thane and his clan’s wealth would grow, their power would expand, and they would become complacent, blind to the enemies gathering in their shadow.
I added a subtle curse, one that would ensure that Thane’s heirs would be plagued by avarice, driving them to make ill-fated decisions. In time, Thane’s son Aric’s greed would isolate him from potential allies, leaving his family vulnerable when the war finally came. The Rukstinz’ riches would be their downfall, and their souls would be ripe for the taking.
Still not able to find rest, I continued toying with The Eye – turning my attention to the Gaatz family, a clan known for their cunning and evil. They were powerful within the Drokka community, but too clever by half and I just didn’t like them.
“A little hubris never hurt anyone,” I chuckled, as I began to weave their fate. I envisioned a series of victories for the Gaatz— a business partnership with the Derkka in the Skin Trade, successful political maneuvers at Baldur’s court, full control of the merchant guilds, and then something special – a truly diabolical project that would see one of their kind (Fukbyl Gaatz) rise to prominence. I have Fukbyl massive success in business and then something else – the ability to create a pandemic that cause widespread death…and opportunity! (With each success, I introduced a thread of overconfidence, a belief that Fukbyl and his clan were invincible).
I saw The Gaatz overreach, extending their influence into realms where they were not welcome. The Gaatz’s projects would provoke the ire of their neighbors and allies alike, creating a network of grudges and vendettas that would ensnare them when the time was right – and I ensured that their downfall would be spectacular, a lesson to those who tried to rise too high – after all children shouldn’t play with dead things, right?
By the time I was done with this, I’d actually fallen asleep, The Eye resting up on my chest. Unfortunately sleep didn’t last, I had a nightmare about Dagaal – the horrid dagger crafted by Lucifer to destroy me!
Since The Eye was still out, I tried to distract myself with it again so I turned my attention to the Busz family – that clan who’d I’d help create the military-industrial complex for the Drokka. By now spies and agents were everywhere, gathering secrets and manipulating events to their advantage. But I knew that secrets could be a double-edged sword.
“Secrets are best kept in the dark,” I muttered, half asleep, as I began to weave their fate. I raised up an elder called Chaney Busz – a shadowy figure who I turned into a powerful force. I watched as Chaney led the Busz to grow bolder in their espionage, Chaney’s personal network expanding to the point where he believed he knew everything, controlled everything. But with a wicked grin, I introduced a flaw in Chaney—a single thread of deception that would unravel his entire operation.
By this time I was really tired, so I may have overtweaked a few fate lines, but I recall planting false information upon Chaney’s line – whispers of betrayal that would lead his own clan to turn on him. Mistrust would fester within the Busz ranks and the more Chaney tried to control, the more his clan would lose, until eventually the once-mighty Busz Clan would lay in ruins.
With the fates of some of the Drokka traitor families set, I sank deeper into the bed, satisfied with my work. The Eye of Seraphiel dimmed, its task complete, and I placed it back in its box. In my mind’s eyes I could still see the ripples of my actions spreading through time, the delicate balance of power shifting in ways that would keep King Baldur in place—strong enough to maintain order, but weak enough to be manipulated.
“All in a night’s work,” I sighed. I felt a sense of dark satisfaction as I imagined the chaos that would ensue, the eventual war that would consume the Drokka and provide me with the souls I needed for my Necronomicon rituals. The dagger Dagaal would be found in due time, but for now, the pieces were moving as they should.
At last I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the volcanic chamber lull me into a rare moment of peace. The future was secure, the game was in motion, and soon, very soon, the Drokka would play right into my hands.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 