Territory

Ixiad’s territory on Maud’madir stretches from the Dark Elven capital of Antioch in the north and continues south before ending roughly forty leagues south of the town of Jericho and the northern tip of the Grey Elven forests. It ends in the west upon the shores of the inlet that stretches north from Duvain, and in the east, it terminates approximately thirty leagues east of Jericho.

The actual domain where Ixiad resides in person permanently is both much smaller and clearly different from the rest of her lands. Nature itself is bent and twisted, and while it is not precisely dead or corrupted, it is clearly wrong in some fashion. Some scholars have theorized that this is because Ixiad herself, due to her long exile in the Far Realm, unconsciously twists her surroundings to match the insane landscapes of her old gaol. Webbing is strewn about everywhere in an almost haphazard fashion, and the only life that exists there serves Ixiad directly. Some call her forest “haunted,” but this is not entirely accurate. While most mortals are undoubtedly unnerved in her forests, there are no lost spirits clinging to the mortal plane there. Only her Knights, a scattering of Drakes, and millions of spiders. Those who are welcome find that a path will simply open up in front of them, and anything hostile melts away into the darkness, yet remaining nearby in case the visitor shows any signs of treachery. Those that try to force their way through her woods are forced to struggle with a landscape that is alive, hostile, and very clearly does not want them to be there.

At the exact center of Ixiad’s forest lies her Temple, a vast building of such beautiful construction that it would not be unwelcome in the capitals of the greatest mortal cities. Its sprawling ceilings and vast columns make it look more like a center of imperial bureaucracy than a place to honour and house one of the Firstborn. Called the Midnight Sanctum, this is where all of her servants eventually return to share information, submit reports, and receive their orders before being sent back out into the lands of Arthos. Ixiad can often be found there, pouring over mountains of information before making the snap decisions she is well known for. It is also where she likes to host her masquerade balls.

In addition to the mortal realm, Ixiad also maintains a small domain in the Far Realm, although given the length of her imprisonment there, she has rarely deigned to return in recent years. Her demesne there is much like the ones she manages on Arthos; in fact, they are almost identical. Save for that, most of her servants in that mad place are horrific abominations of corrupted mind and form. There is an almost distressing lack of difference between the two.

Appearance

In her true Draconic form, Ixiad is a foul and twisted amalgamation of Dragon and arachnid. While she is no shape-changer, Ixiad retains a great deal of control over the size of her Draconic form. In one moment, she might be rather small, no larger than a newborn spider freshly hatched, while in another moment, she might be as large as a cottage, measuring 10 meters in height, 15 meters in length, with a wingspan of roughly 9 meters long. Her scales are largely black in colour, interwoven with web-like strands of a red so vibrant that it almost glows in the darkness. Her four legs are festooned with an array of wicked stiletto-like spikes, with each limb ending in five wickedly sharp red claws. Ixiad also possesses two pairs of wings, but no flesh is stretched between the bones of her wings. Instead, there is only red webbing strewn across the gaps in a haphazard fashion. It has no pattern or design and appears to be set in an entirely random fashion. This does not seem to impede her ability to fly whatsoever. Upon her head are set a pair of curling crimson horns that she shares with her mortal form, framing her eight, unblinking red eyes. Ixiad has been known to use this quality to unnerve and frighten mortals that have not grown accustomed to her gaze.

Ixiad’s mortal form is always feminine and, like her draconic form, appears to be an unnatural combination of a spider and an attractive female-presenting figure. She is known to commonly wear rich courtly dresses and ball gowns festooned with tasteful jewelry, partly due to her vanity but mostly because they comfortably fit around the two humanoid and four arachnid legs that descend from her waist. When dealing with mortals, she most commonly wears a mask of a conventionally attractive race, such as humans or high elves, but her masks are never perfect. No matter how mightily she might struggle to hide her arachnid nature, there is always some sort of tell that peeks through her disguise. It might be that one of her “human” eyes is obviously an unblinking circular red orb, or maybe one of her mandibles slips through the seams of her mask. Even as imperfect as they are, most who gaze upon her will say that they prefer the mask, as her true face is both horrific and monstrous. It is vaguely humanoid at best, with eight glowing red eyes and a mouth that appears to be the result of giving a lamprey insect mandibles and far too many teeth.

Passions

In the ancient Age of Lucidity, Ixiad stood as one of the most powerful Firstborn in all of creation. This was not due to anything so crass as raw muscle or arcane might, but rather her power was derived from the chains of servitude with which she had ensnared the Hell King. At one point, all the legions of the nascent Demonic races marched at Ixiad’s command, consuming the Divine and their followers alike. They were power itself, unstoppable in their fury and completely unmatched by the Celestial Host when they fought as one. Ixiad craves that control again, that Demonic army, more than anything else in all creation. And much like how her brother Oblivion requires that his Aspirants bring the spirits of mortals before him, Ixiad desires little more than the corrupted spirits of the demons themselves. This act is accomplished by performing the “Rite of the Demonic Injunction” upon a suitable demon. Not just any demon will please Ixiad; however, it must be one that has both the power and authority to command demons other than itself. A simple hellhound will earn little more than a rebuke from the Oath-Taker, while a mighty martial champion with no authority in the Hellstack would also be similarly dismissed.

Ixiad is also known to be extremely vain, and those that wish to earn her Favour soon find that she looks quite favourably upon vanity items of great value. Fine porcelain masks, exotic perfumes, dresses made for the nobility, and so on. Anything that she can use to improve her appearance will be looked upon favourably, assuming it is expensive enough. Ixiad does not waste her time on common trifles, for she is beautiful, exquisite, and cultured and deserves only the best of the best. Woe to any Aspirant that tries to offer the Oath-Taker an inexpensive silver necklace.

The Rite of Demonic Injunction

This sacred rite can only be performed upon a demon while it is bound, trapped, or otherwise helpless. The demon must be within the presence of an activated Totem to Ixiad, and if this requirement is not met, the Rite of Demonic Injunction will have no effect. The Aspirant must then call out to Ixiad, and after asking her to witness these proceedings, they are expected to make an argument before their totem on why this demon is worthy of being taken by her, and while Ixiad appreciates a bit of courtly flair, she has little patience for outright lies. The Aspirant is then expected to then prepare a simple, physical written contract. This contract must be embossed with the mark of Ixiad, and the terms must simply state that his demon is to forswear all other attachments, and is now sworn to Ixiad, utterly, in all things, for all time, to the very best of its mind and ability. Should Ixiad find the demon worthy, a spectral draconic arm is superimposed over and settles over the dominant arm of the demon, who finds that its own hand is now raising to sign the contract, likely against its will. At this point, most demons get desperate if they are still conscious and start offering the Aspirant anything and everything to set them free, but by now, it is far too late for the demon to escape the fate that awaits them. Ixiad signs the contract for the demon, using the demon’s own True Name set upon the dotted line. The contract and the demon then completely disappear, going to a fate unknown to any other being besides Ixiad herself.

Temperament

In the modern age, all that Ixiad does is marked by the trauma of the betrayal of her greatest Knight and her subsequent exile into the Far Realm. The very Axiom of Madness is infused throughout that plane at its very base level, and strangers to that place oft find that over time, their capacity for rational thought vanishes as true madness sets in. Although Ixiad was mighty and resisted better than most beings would, the Far Realm’s touch still left an undeniable mark upon her mind over the centuries. While Ixiad escaped relatively sane, her ability to conceive of thoughts of the far-flung future was destroyed. Where other Firstborn operate on a timescale of decades or even centuries, for Ixiad, there is only the past, the present, and perhaps a year into the future at best. Should she attempt to think much farther ahead, her otherwise rational thoughts begin to break down into a jumbled stream of illogical nonsense. Thus, unlike her sister Shiloth, Ixiad is very much a completely unpredictable creature, a being that lives and acts solely in the moment. Her plans and movements are ever-changing, for if she can longer anticipate what the far future will hold, then she will make damn sure that not a single being will ever predict hers ever again. This does not mean that she is reckless or uninformed. In fact, her network of servants is structured to feed mountains of information to her daily so that her snap decisions might at least be informed ones.

Her future was not the only thing she lost to the Far Realm, though. While Ixiad had always maintained a healthy sense of paranoia and suspicion when dealing with those outside her sphere of influence, those inside her inner circle always had her trust. They were her Knights, devoted to her and her ideals in both body and spirit, extensions of her power and will. As such, she did not doubt where their loyalties might lay and trusted them implicitly. However, in time she paid dearly for the betrayal that this trust enabled, and as such, she no longer trusts in anything or anyone save the contract.

Thus, all that is done in her name or in her directly-ruled territory is managed by contracts of both the magical and non-magical variety. And that means everything, not a single paper, is filed away in the Sanctum with a contract stipulating who does the filing, how they are compensated, and how they are to complete said filing. An Aspirant of the Oath-Taker is similarly ruled by this sacred law. When they dedicate their totem, they must sign a contract of eternal service with the Oath-Taker that promises death and damnation should they ever willingly betray Ixiad or her servants. They are then expected to send this contract to her great record hall, located within the cavernous halls of the Sanctum. Only once it is reviewed and personally signed by Ixiad will the Aspirant’s Totem activate and forge the metaphysical link between mortal and Dragon.

Aside from self-defence, all actions they take on behalf of another must be first notated in a contract, signed and sealed by all parties involved. Amongst her followers, mutual defence pacts are quite common, as are trade and service agreements. Much like a demonic contract, each contract must be signed by at least two parties and state what is expected by one party and what remuneration is offered by the other party. That is not to say loopholes or obfuscating language do not exist in her contracts, they do, and Ixiad or her followers will ruthlessly exploit any and all mistakes that a foolish signatory might make. It should also be noted that in situations of extreme duress, a verbal contract between two or more parties is permissible, assuming that it is followed up by a written version that is signed by both parties as soon as the situation allows it.

For Ixiad and her followers, acting outside the boundaries of a contract is tantamount to breaking the terms of one already signed. There can be no greater betrayal, no fouler insult, than deliberately and willingly betraying the terms of a contract. In those instances, Ixiad’s mask drops, often literally, and all niceties vanish as she becomes a vicious and bloodthirsty monster out for revenge. She will stop at nothing to avenge that slight against her, and if she is not able to do so, her followers are expected to act as extensions of her will in those cases. Some mortals who think themselves clever have tried physically destroying the contract to release themselves, only to find that Ixiad keeps multiple copies and that she views such actions in a similarly dim light.

On a personal level, Ixiad is both quite playful and social and extremely vain. Everything she wears must be the best of the best, for only the finest attire is able to assuage her tremendous ego and disguise her hideous true form. She dresses herself in courtly finery that would be the envy of the wealthiest Berphauntian noblewoman. Jewels of red and black that could buy a small kingdom hang from her ears and lie draped across her sleek neck, and perfumes composed of the rarest and most foreign ingredients waft behind her as she glides across the ground. In her mortal form, she especially is quite vulnerable to flattery regarding her appearance and similarly becomes wroth quickly whenever someone draws undue attention to her arachnid parts. She rarely ever smiles but instead clicks her mandibles together whenever she is particularly happy or pleased. If a mortal should see a spider limb extend from her dress to open a door while her hands are full, they are expected to keep their mouths shut and gazes aimed literally anywhere else. Those beings that are stupid and foolish enough to ignore this common courtesy quickly find that they are few slights that arouse her anger quicker.

Affinities

All spiders, from the smallest to the largest, are the progeny of the first arachnid created by Ixiad in the Age of Dreams. It is written that Mother Spider was made and set in amongst the lower branches of the Wyrmwood because Ixiad, in her loneliness and jealousy of all other beautiful things, desired at least one creature that looked like her. As such, Ixiad can effortlessly command and direct all of Mother Spider’s spawn toward any end that she desires and can even completely override their consciousness with their own should she wish to. It is said that when the hordes of Brood began to wash over and devour the Firstborn of Amaranthia, Ixiad weakened herself by impressing, upon every single last spider in creation, an overwhelming hatred of the Brood. Ever since that day, they have both warred for control of Arthos’ chthonic depths, with each and every spider fighting the Brood with an uncharacteristic savagery and skill.

Ixiad herself is actually quite weak when compared to some of her other Firstborn family or even many of the Divine as well. While she is no pushover herself and can rend most lesser foes with ease, she is well aware of her own limits in matters of violence. She does not possess the brutal strength of Rathenoch, nor does she even come close to the Doranth in matters of magic. Thus, when she has cause to fight, she is forced to act as an ambush predator. When a grave threat enters Ixiad’s lands, her first weapon is the forest itself. An intruder quickly finds themselves disoriented and deeply unnerved, as they are constantly redirected by shifting forest paths and hordes of hostile arachnids. Ixiad toys with them, letting despair and madness sink in as they become further and further entrapped in her webs. When her foe has been suitably weakened, she then strikes in a series of hit-and-run attacks, emerging from hidden paths to gradually weaken them further, over and over again. In these attacks, she commonly begins with a blast of her powerful breath weapon meant to hinder her foes before closing in to tear them apart with her wicked acid-soaked fangs. Her servants say that the screaming that is often heard in her forest is either the hopeless wailing of one of her entrapped foes that have finally realized the grave error they have made or is actually the sounds of Ixiad feeding upon one of these cocoons. They say it is quite hard to tell the difference in sound in most cases.

Ixiad is the first and foremost authority on the spirits of mortal beings in all of creation, and it is said that her mastery of spiritcrafting even surpasses that of the Demon Princes that now rule the Hellstack plane. The skeins of magic that compose and bind a conscious spirit are some of the most esoteric, powerful, and complex magical weaves in all of creation, and much of what is now known about the spirit is based upon her early studies of the first Grey Elven mortals. To one suitably knowledgeable in these arts, a spirit can be one of the greatest sources of raw arcane power available, and its potential uses are nearly limitless. The Demonic use these magics for literally everything they do, for a mortal spirit powers everything from Demonic resurrection in the Hellstack to empowering the contractual binding magics that tempt mortal spirits into their service. While Ixiad herself refuses to lower herself to casting the raw and polluted magical energies of Wytchcraft, she obviously does keep many Demonic servants in thrall that have no such compunctions. Occasionally Ixiad will force one of her Demonic servants to grant a boon to her most valued followers, and it has often come as quite a surprise to some of her enemies when her Dragon Knights strike them with the strength of a Demonic giant or when they summon forth the very fires of hell from their fingertips. In addition to signing Contracts with her servants to empower them, Ixiad can even manipulate those signed by others. If at least one of the parties is in Ixiad’s presence, she can simply alter the terms of the deal and replace herself as one of the signatories. This is not done lightly, as many of the Demonic become quite incensed when a spirit is stolen from them, and this act also requires Ixiad to sacrifice many spirits to reweave the demonic bindings of the contract. When it is done, it is most often rendered unto a promising servant that is so desperate to escape service to their Demonic patron that they are willing to exchange one master for another.

Furthermore, Ixiad can directly shape any spirit that is in her presence. This is most commonly done when an extremely promising mortal spirit has unfortunate entanglements with the Demonic or the Divine, but even in those circumstances, it is quite rare. It is an extremely difficult and somewhat dangerous process, as even a slight mistake can destroy the spirit utterly or scar Ixiad’s scales with the resulting backlash of spiritual power being released. Thus, while it is not something she does lightly, she can repair a now-broken spirit previously favoured by a God or claimed by a Demon Prince, should she feel that the risk is worth the potential service they might return unto her. Similarly, she can increase the weight of an existing sin or fabricate entirely new and false sins upon a mortal spirit, sending it faster down the Black Tide to meet the fires of the Hellstack. This is also a difficult process fraught with danger, but when performed correctly, the spirit will flow down the Black Tide with such speed that it may potentially bypass the Angelic agents of the Divine Power sent to retrieve it. This is in addition to condemning the spirit to an eternity in a lower layer of the Hellstack, a place much worse than the one they were destined to by their ethical lifestyle in the mortal world.

Unlike most of the other Firstborn, Ixiad’s aura does not inflict nearby mortals with an overwhelming sense of fear while they are in her presence. No, her dragonfear is a far more subtle thing. Unless Ixiad herself has consciously chosen to shield the mortals in her presence from it, those beings that are close enough to her find themselves feeling as if they were being watched by a thousand pairs of eyes all at once, each gazing upon them from a different direction and varied distance. In their gaze, there is no secrecy, peace, or privacy. With enough exposure, rational thought becomes quite difficult and eventually is entirely replaced with a deep unease that gradually becomes a sort of incoherent paranoia. By this stage, most mortals end up killing any nearby allies, now completely and utterly sure that they have long suspected their former friends of being the architect of literally every pain and slight that they have ever suffered in their lives. Catatonia is the reward for most mortal survivors, as enough exposure will likely destroy their minds entirely. Such is often the final fate of any that dare try to break a Contract signed with Ixiad.

Breath Weapon

As can be seen by the countless abandoned webs that litter her forest, Ixiad is quite fond of her breath weapon and employs it at nearly every opportunity. Called “The Strands that Bind” by the earliest draconic scholars, it is paradoxically known as one of the least destructive breath weapons in existence, yet it is also one of the most feared. When she feeds, Ixiad only partially digests her food. Instead of breaking it down into waste and passing it like most mortals, the remnants of her prey is instead broken down into a disgusting, lumpy slurry that is then deposited into several specialized stomachs, where it remains until she has cause to use her breath weapon.

From there, Ixiad has two options. Her most commonly used form of her breath is employed when multiple, weaker targets are present. Ixiad begins the process by retching violently, heaving and hacking like a being so painfully ill they should not even be alive. Some beings unfamiliar with Ixiad’s method have even been known to pause and stare dumbfounded, and some of those have even dared to hope that Ixiad was somehow quite ill, that some god-borne disease had struck her and was about to lay her low. Nothing could be farther from the truth, for this retching is actually just Ixiad forcing this half-digested meat slurry into another system of specialized organs, where it is then broken down further and forged into her spider silk webbing. With a final series of retches, she vomits forth a series of foul-smelling globs of webbing that explode into vast silk nets upon impact. These nets of webbing quickly adhere to and entrap any being caught with their large blast radius, and these unfortunate spirits quickly find that struggling only makes their bindings tighter. No magic or alchemy outside of perhaps what a God or Firstborn might employ is enough to set a victim free, and even those beings would struggle mightily to escape her bindings.

This is not the end of what Ixiad can employ, though. Those misfortunate enough to be trapped in webs often soon notice a curious fact. They are hollow. If she is truly incensed, her enemies will not have to wait long to discover why. Ixiad clamps down her vicious, acid-soaked fangs down upon the web she just violently expelled from her maw and injects her acid into the strands. The acid does not burn the strands, but it can be felt through the strands all the same. It is a pain beyond imagining, akin to being submerged into an entire vat of the strongest acid and being unable to move at the same time. To make matters worse, it is not immediately fatal. Death can take weeks for those with a strong will and fortitude, although it is likely that their minds will shatter long before then.

In the rare occasions where Ixiad is engaged in combat with a single, stronger foe, she has another form of webbing. The first part of the process is the same, but instead of vomiting forth that sticky mass, the end of her tail splits apart with a sickening, wet sound as scales are torn from flesh to reveal the wicked spinneret that was previously hidden beneath her draconic hide. With this secret appendage, she can fire a stronger, more concentrated form of her webbing at a target with unerring accuracy.

Ixiad can, at any time, inject her webbing with another acid that is both painless and the only known solvent for her webs. This is often after her enemies have signed some sort of contract with her, and even in her deepest rages, Ixiad is more than willing to show mercy if an appropriate amount of service is promised to be rendered unto her. Those of the Divine and the Celestial Host can never earn this respite, however, and those that try to return to the Heavens often find that their way is blocked so long as they are encased in her webs. Most return weeks later, after their earthly vessel was finally consumed by the acid.

Style of Government

Although Ixiad’s following on Arthos is still quite small, especially when compared to some of her Firstborn siblings, the sheer drama of her subsequent re-emergence and the missionary-like ways of her dedicated followers has led to a surprising number of mortals dedicating themselves to her in a rather short time. Ixiad desires to be known, to be revered, and to be served on a level that her critics claim approaches that of God worship, although they do not do so openly. To those of her people not given other tasks in her temples, Ixiad commands that they spread out into the world, finding converts to her ways and spreading the word of her power and glory.

Unlike many other Firstborn, Ixiad is quite hands-on in her style of rule. While she is content to leave many mortal cities and towns to their own devices, those directly sworn to her service through contracts often find that she is quite the active sovereign. Her network is structured so that all information is eventually filed back to her, where she sits at the center of her web within the vaulted halls of the Sanctum. Everything leads to that singular point, where Ixiad herself reviews the reports of her underlings before issuing directives that then flow back down the strands to her various sub-temples. Ultimately, every decision made in lands is made either by her directly or at her direction by a “trusted” servant. Much ink has been spilled on the topic of Ixiad’s bureaucracy, and it is said that even the most sadistic Berphauntian clerk shudders in fear of the thought of trying to navigate the red webs of her Temple’s policies and directives.

Temple Structure

Having only recently emerged back onto the material plane in the year 2259, most of Ixiad’s former temples have either been reclaimed by nature or looted and destroyed. While many of her newly-minted Dragon Knights are currently attempting to rebuild her legacy, their efforts are still a far cry from the labyrinthine network of bureaucratic halls from her reign pre-exile.

Most of these new temples are built and organized more like a guild house for lawyers rather than a place of reverence or worship. Managing the vast interwoven network of oaths, contracts, and orders for those entangled in Ixiad’s metaphorical webs requires a large and skilled workforce of legal professionals. These mortals are sorted into a system of bureaucratic ranks that denote their powers, responsibilities, and privileges. The specifics vary from Temple to temple, but titles such as “Clerk” and “Notary” are quite common. Each Temple submits an annual report to the Midnight Sanctum, the Temple that Ixiad herself personally resides in, deep within her twisted woods. Those temples that meet their quotas find themselves richly rewarded, while those that fail to meet their targets often find themselves visited by Auditors, abominations from the Far Realm that are just full of creative ways to get the performance metrics of these underperforming mortals up to snuff.

Ixiad and those that follow her are aware that she does not have the most inspiring image in the minds of the common folk, and to counteract this prejudice, many of Ixiad’s temples also serve as affordable law offices that are accessible and available to all. While the work that her followers do in these offices is far from free, it is often affordable, even for the lowliest of peasants. As these temples are often found in semi-remote locations not served by state bureaucrats anyways, many lower-class folk appreciate a notary that they don’t have to travel for days or weeks to reach and one that accepts payment in bartered goods as well as coin. They are also becoming quite popular with the wealthier classes as well, for the skills and methods of thinking that Ixiad’s teachings reinforce also leads many of her followers into becoming skilled at navigating the complex skein of civil and criminal law that the nobility is so often entangled in.

Historical Highlights

Historical Highlight #1 – The First Pact:

The following is an excerpt taken from my upcoming tome, “Histories of the Firstborn, Volume Six,” and will be available for purchase in just a few short months. If this preview excites your interest, many printing shops are even already taking orders as I write this newsletter.

– Raphael DuFontaine, Author and Independent Scholar on matters regarding the Firstborn

Note: This tale is transcribed word-for-word from the oral histories told to me by one of the few shamans of the Ragno’tuum that yet remains alive on Arthos. This scholar cannot verify the accuracy of these grandiose claims made by this Olagot’Thalan, but they are included here for posterity’s sake nonetheless.

“This story is true.

In an age so ancient that to try and truly reckon with it would be to invite madness, the first war raged across Arthos. The arrogant interloper who dared call himself the “God of Magic” had forced The Fallen King’s blue-scaled hand, and although Salam was dispersed by Doranth’s fury, with the Dreamleaf’s resultant destruction, countless Gods emerged ex-nihilo and brought war to the domains of the Firstborn. For they, like their impatient brother, sought to dominate and control what was not theirs by right and could only be theirs by force.

In these days, the Firstborn were many, thousands they were, yet the Gods numbered even more. They were mighty, for their celestial powers were foreign to the Firstborn, and with the honeyed lies they told to our true Thalan ancestors, believers began to swell their ranks. And with that belief came even more power.

But the Firstborn know these lands and their natural laws better than any other being, and by tying themselves to their lands and making use of the broken symbols your learned folk call the Axioms, they met this rising tide of belief with the force now called magic. By presenting a united front, the Firstborn pushed back against the onslaught of the fragmented and divided Gods and piled their corpses so high it is said that they even reached the eyes of Temperance and War in the skies.   

And yet, this would not last.  

Sensing their imminent destruction, The Gods also united as one force, but they were not alone. A mighty host of previously unseen winged beings of such power that even their mightiest Thalan servants could not match flew to war alongside their divine masters. Calling themselves “The Celestial Host,” they began to push back against the alliance of Firstborn, and the war began to turn against the Dragons once again.

This, you know. What you do not know is what comes next.

For you see, when the Gods crafted their Angelic warriors, they stole from a mysterious power that they did not truly understand. And in their labours, they made a mistake. The Gods channelled the full measure of this power, but in their haste to counter the Firstborn’s offensives, they could only make use of half of it. That unenslaved power, once disturbed, had to go somewhere. A singular being rose in response, the diametric opposite of the Angelic beings that the Gods forced Axioms of Loyalty, Servitude, and Faith upon. But for this being that was created by their colossal error, there were no Axioms to provide guidance or purpose. There was only power and instinct, uncontrolled and unrefined.

As above, so below.

Unlike the Angelic host, the being that emerged was not divided into many spirits but remained as one mind, one essence. And yet, without the direction that was given to his Angelic brethren, this being was at first ignorant, acting only upon his baser instincts. He understood little of his nature or purpose and simply wandered Arthos and the Planes that bordered it. Such was his might that wherever he went, he left only smoking footprints and the mangled corpses of both God and Firstborn in his wake. The Firstborn retreated from his presence after several crippling losses, yet they still saw in him an answer to the might of the Celestial Host, and many amongst their number attempted to turn him to their side.

It is said that the Red Dragon of War attempted to bring him to heel with force and was met with a humiliating and crushing defeat that almost cost him his life. The Shadow Dragon instead tried to manipulate him with trickery and deceit but met her match in his mastery of falsehoods, and she was deceived in turn. Many other Firstborn tried and failed, and all were met with defeat, or worse, at his hands.

But She Who Walks The Strands, she was different, for she was clever and patient. She watched as the efforts of her Draconic allies availed them nothing, trying to discover what they had missed and what might truly tempt this being. Even after far too many encounters in which the Firstborn suffered at this being’s hands, she remained an observer only, never so much as lifting a claw to aid these other Firstborn. After a particularly fearsome battle in which this unholy being had slain both a Dragon and a God, the one you call Ixiad spied a small detail which may have otherwise gone unnoticed if someone as clever as her was not there to witness it. As the being’s wounds closed, several copper scales of the now-dead Dragon faded into colourless translucence as small, nearly invisible strands of raw energy were unconsciously consumed by the being…

Spirits.

They were what drove his hunger, fueled his ambitions, and satiated his lusts. The one and only thing it truly desired in all of creation was the very base essence of all living things.

That was why the other Firstborn had failed. They had all attempted to dominate or win its allegiance with what they themselves would want, Axioms that they themselves were the masters of. In their arrogance, none deigned to consider just what a being so alien would actually want or need.

Furthermore, this being did not seem to be cognizant of that fact. Bereft of the guidance that the Divine had forced upon the Celestial Host with the Axioms, he wandered Arthos alone and ignorant, without purpose.

And in that ignorance, Ixiad saw opportunity.  

When she approached him, she did so not as a towering warrior, a fearsome mage, or a rage-crazed beast but as a servant, her head bowed in obeisance. This stirred something in the Demonic Lord. It felt right when something lesser bowed before him, knowing their place. Upon seeing that he had not immediately launched himself at her like he had with so, so many others, she grew emboldened and began to speak.

She spoke unto him of the nature of spirits- that they could be taken, shaped, and consumed. She instructed him in the most secret and blackest of arts, magics so vile and base that none but her had dared to plumb the arcane depths that she had once wallowed in. And finally, she offered him children, or rather, that is to say, she promised to provide this untapped potentate with the spiritual seeds from which he might create them. She called him a Demon and that he should be King. The Demonic Lord was intrigued, but alas, he had doubts. He found the idea of being bound to another being’s service abhorrent, and likely so would any Demonic spawn of his. Pride and selfishness run deep through the mind of every Demonic being, and they do not take to servitude lightly or freely. Even his tremendous power would not be able to cow all of his into spawn absolute obedience, and some would inevitably rebel against his authority. He could foresee this. He would not accept this, could not accept this, for he would not divide his essence if it meant not being served by the result.

Ixiad had yet another secret to give unto this creature, however.

Many mortals believe that the art of creating magical, binding spirit contracts originates with the Demonic race. This is not true, for the base arcane principles upon which a spirit-contract functions found their origins in a series of discoveries made by the Oath-Taker in the earlier ages of Arthos. With these arts, she claimed that the creature could establish complete and utter domination over any and all progeny that he or any of his children might sire, thus ensuring that an act of true rebellion would be all but impossible.

Although her previous secrets had been given freely, she told him that these secret binding magics, and the Axioms he would need to make use of them, would not be shared without a price. In return for these mighty gifts, the Demon Lord and his Demonic legions would promise to serve her in battle for a time. Ixiad’s clever tongue was quick to assuage his paranoia, for she would not attempt to usurp his rightful authority over his progeny and would only require more of the deicide that he was already quite proficient in. 

The Demon Lord was yet young and ignorant, but he was not unintelligent and spent a long time considering the offer that Ixiad had presented. After a period of time longer than a year yet shorter than a day, he came to the conclusion the benefits of this proposed arrangement outweighed the indignities he would have to endure, and he signed the contract in a foul, smoking ichor drawn from an open wound left by the claws of the now-dead copper-scaled Firstborn that lay before him.  

It was all Ixiad could do to maintain her composure and not break out into song, for her perilous gambit had succeeded. With the aid of the Demon King, their war against the Celestials was bound to turn once more in their Favour. However, the deal was not done, and Ixiad still had her end of the bargain to fulfill.  

Seven and one scales she tore from her own draconic hide, seven red and one black.  

The seven red scales were given to her most trusted Thalan servant, a tall, proud-looking woman whose fineries were only outclassed by the gown that Ixiad herself wore. Ixiad’s favoured Knight took each scale and held it with care in a single hand, speaking aloud but a single word of the most ancient and primal of magics, that of the runes. For each scale was in and out itself one of the seven most powerful, intelligent, and amoral true Thalan to have ever served Ixiad, and each spirit was bound together with a different fragmented remnant of a specific Axiom that Ixiad had managed to salvage after the Dreamleaf’s destruction.

Corruption.

Void.

Pain.

Misery.

Perfection.

Power.

Destruction.

These Axiom-spirits would be the genesis of a new Demonic nobility. They would be his generals, his champions, and his most-favoured children. They would, in turn, create their own legions of Demonic soldiers, and in time they would be a force strong enough to challenge the very celestial heavens themselves.

But what about the single black scale, you might be asking? What happened to that?  

Well, after the First Contract had been fulfilled, Ixiad offered one final gift unto the Demonic Lord, a single treasure to mollify his colossal ego and brush aside any lingering paranoia that might linger in his mind. She bade him to watch as she took the black scale between two of her own wicked claws and spoke black words so discordant they tore at reality itself. A horrid, keening wailing resounded forth from the scale as a brilliant, shining light was involuntarily torn from its arcane confines. With the power granted by this shimmering spirit of a true Thalan, she forced a different shape upon the discarded bones of the nearby fallen Godling. Divine flesh melted away as the bones underneath began to unnaturally warm and flow into a wicked shape. In mere moments, the process was over, and the product of her work was so foul it almost defies description. Ixiad lifted what was now a hellfire-touched crown of divine bone and took a moment to admire her handiwork before she carved a series of wicked runes with an acid-soaked claw into its surface. When she was finished, the crown burst into flame.

Satisfied, she laid the flaming crown to rest atop his blackened brow at the foot of a dead God and proclaimed in her mightiest draconic roar that he now and forever was the true King of Demons, master of all that was Demonic, and the Eternal Scourge of the Celestial Host and their divine masters. She then granted him passage into an unseen and hidden plane of existence she called The Hell. This would be a safe home for the Hell King and his soon to be legions of Demons.

This story is true.”

Historical Highlight #2 – Year 2260: The Betrayal, and the Return

The following narrative has been transcribed by me, Ish’thael Harcouruel, Magus of the White Tower, from the thought-forms of Ji’gazz’Olthgn, Mindphage and native resident of the Far Realm.

“With the coronation of the Hell King and the signing of their pact, She Who Walks The Strands became the hidden master of all that was Demonic. In exchange for the powerful spirits bound by their axioms and the black tutelage she provided to the nascent lord of demons, he had agreed to serve as her champion, and his children were her army. The Celestial Host were taken aback by their might, and in the ensuing conflicts, many of the Gods met a brutal and final end at their Demonic hands. At first, the Hell King was content with their alliance. The knowledge he had gained was invaluable, for his power had increased tenfold, and he dined upon the flesh and spirits of the Divine on an almost nightly basis. Existence was good, as I am told you mortals often say.

But his nature strained against the chains of servitude that Ixiad had placed upon him, gilded though they might be. The very idea of being constrained, of being forced to serve, tore at his mind, causing a sense of deep mental anguish that was without end or relief. His hatred built and festered with each command imposed on him by the Firstborn, but the magic of the pact held firm and forced his hand each and every time. He continued to kill and devour the Divine in her name, but as he did so, he began to search for a method that might win him his freedom. Ixiad’s foresight in crafting the language of their pact was near impeccable and did not allow for even the slightest act of rebellion. Nor could he or any of his Demonic children destroy or void it in any fashion. The contract would only be rendered null and void if Ixiad herself did not return to the site where the pact was originally signed once annually so that she might renew the magics empowering it. If she did not accomplish this simple task, then all parties would be released from its strictures.

At first, the Hell King despaired and questioned how he might forestall her efforts. Bound by the contract as he was, neither he nor any of his servants could impede her. Nor did any of the Divine stand a chance of doing so, not with his Demonic army and her beck and call. The only beings that were in a position to stop Ixiad were her own Dragon Knights, mortals sworn to her in body and spirit, whose loyalties were unquestioned. And yet, if he was to truly win his freedom, only they could do what was necessary.

At the time, Ixiad had personally withdrawn from the war with the Gods, perhaps foolishly trusting in her Demonic legions and Dragon Knights to complete their grim work without direct oversight. Much of her time was spent on spiritcrafting experiments in the newly discovered Far Realm. While she was known to travel to my home plane frequently, she did not entirely neglect what you call the “material plane” and often returned here to rest and recover from the mental strain of the Far Realm.

What you call Gate Magic was still in its infancy at the time, and in order to travel, Ixiad required that one of her Knights be ready to assist in opening the portal on the material plane. Without assistance, she would be trapped, unable to make her way back. There was but one mortal she trusted with these magics, the Knight that sat at her right hand, who learned her every secret and spoke with her voice in all things.

Thus, armed with this knowledge, the Hell King began to form a plan.

The twin Princes of Perfection had dominion over all forms of desire and want, and both the Incubus and the Succubus were able to divine that this true Thalan woman, Nebbia Andranasta, who had long served Ixiad faithfully had nevertheless begun to harbour doubts. She remembered the time before when the Dreamleaf was not yet a smoking ruin, where all creation was whole. When the Dreamleaf broke, it seemed to her as if the Firstborn were made broken as well. Although she remained dedicated to Ixiad and her ideals, she despaired at the cruel fates that her people suffered. It seemed as if both sides of that conflict thought of her people as little more than soldiers, fighting a war that was not theirs to fight. She had long since rejected the honeyed lies of the Gods as just that but began to view the Firstborn in a similar light.

Thus, the Hell King approached her and offered a grim salvation for her and her people, freedom from the Draconic and Celestial tyrants that offered nothing but pain and misery to her people. He offered power unchecked by any sovereign and freedom from all moral codes, a chance to live largely as she wished, and all she had to do was serve him for one task. All she had to do was break his chains, and he would break hers. If she wished to remain his servant after, that was up to her. 

She accepted his terms and upon that exact moment, her spirit turned Black as night. 

Having completed her latest batch of experiments with my kind, Ixiad attempted to return from her latest excursion to my home and opened her half of the portal, only to witness a rather unfamiliar sight. Instead of the large procession ready to welcome her back to the material plane as was the custom, all she saw was a singular figure standing atop a mound of broken bones and torn viscera. The Knights, who had regularly assisted her return on countless occasions, were now nothing more than mangled corpses left to die at the feet of the former Dragon Knight. Gone was the dragon mark upon her cheek, and through the ever-weakening connection to her former Knight, Ixiad felt only hatred and contempt. The Oath-Taker could do nothing but scream in impotent rage as the portal snapped shut, with the mocking smile of her former Knight being her last vision of the material plane. Before departing, Nebbia Andranasta set numerous locks and wards borne of Wytchcraft, a magic she had just learned from her new King, upon Ixiad’s new prison. A magic she had just learned from her new master. Ixiad remained trapped in the Far Realm for countless generations, unable to influence her territory or guide her followers. Slowly but surely, her people either forgot her ways or were slain by their enemies, now bereft of the magic she had once gifted unto them. Ixiad herself became little more than an intellectual curiosity found in ancient historical tomes.  

Although she made a life here, learning our ways and gaining the service of myself and many other beings like me, she desired nothing more than to return to the material plane, rebuild her armies, and seek vengeance upon all those that had broken faith with her. Everything she built in the Far Realm was bent towards her eventual re-emergence into the world of mortals.

In the year 2259, an opportunity to escape finally presented itself. Thanks to the actions of a large group of adventurers traveling between worlds, Ixiad was able to make contact with mortals from the material plane for the first time in centuries, and a deal was struck. In exchange for Ixiad’s help in entrapping an extremely powerful foe that they could not lay low themselves, they would weaken the walls of her prison and enable her to escape. Although many of these adventurers were wary of dealing with a creature like Ixiad, most acknowledged that they had no choice. The contract was signed and sealed. These adventurers shattered the locks and did their part to open their side of the portal, and when Ixiad re-emerged onto the material plane, she upheld her end of the bargain before retreating into her forests.

There she remains, rebuilding her strength and her armies, for the day that she might finally punish all who ever dared betray her.