THE EMISSARY
by: Kiren Tiradoio

Tunare sat along the edge of her scrying pool, stirring the crystal waters with a slender finger. The goddess turned her gaze to the image that formed there. The scene was a pastoral one – a farmhouse standing solitary on the plains of Karana. Tunare watched as an ugly green mist seemed to blow in from nowhere, enveloping the small farmstead. The cattle in the pen reacted first, lowing in alarm and then running about their enclosure trying to escape the putrid fog. Their mood became violent when a roar erupted from the mist, followed quickly by a large grizzly bear. Its jaws frothing, the bear advanced on the small herd, who were themselves attacking each other in their frenzy.

Suddenly, the door to the nearby farmhouse opened and the owner stumbled out. The look in his eyes was that of a man insane. In his hand he held only a dagger, which he raised above his head as he charged screaming into the pen where his cattle were kept. As the crazed, rabid man and the diseased beasts around him all sought to rend one another limb from limb, the goddess of nature turned away from the horrific scene with a look of disgust on her normally beautiful face.

“Bertoxxolus,” she whispered, her voice sounding at one like the gentlest of breezes and yet holding the power of a hurricane. She had watched to many scenes like this in recent days. The god of disease was infecting Norrath with his plague of evil, and he had to be stopped. Tunare had come to the decision that the only way to defeat a being of such power was to travel to Norrath herself to oppose him. Contact had already been made with certain individuals, instructing them to acquire objects necessary to her task. They would draw less attention in this endeavor than Tunare would had she done it herself; and she did not wish to alert Bertoxxolus to her plans. She would soon leave her home in the plane of Growth to walk once more upon the soil of Norrath.

It was a journey she both relished and feared. Tunare could not leave her home unguarded. Her many guardians would see to its protection in her absence. However, the goddess also knew she would need aid on Norrath. Those who fought alongside her would have to be not only strong, not only courageous, but willing to die – and die horribly, for that was how those who opposed the god of disease and failed were destined to meet their end. Rotting away throughout eternity…even she shuddered at the thought, for she would not be immune to this fate once she entered Norrath.

A low growl surprised her, drawing her attention away from the disturbing thoughts which consumed her. She turned to smile at the large black cat standing behind her. It stretched out its front paws in a feline bow to its deity. “Still sneaking up on me, eh?” the woman asked. She stroked the panther’s ebony fur, eliciting a purr from the great cat. They sat together in silence for a few minutes, enjoying one another’s company. Then Tunare broke the stillness. “I have need of your help, my guardian.” The cat raised its head to look into her eyes. The goddess continued, “I have a mission of great importance and great danger, and you must be the one to carry it out. Soon I will travel to Norrath to face the evil plague of Bertoxxolus. In order to do this I will need the aid of trusted allies. I wish for Giliath Lang to be the vanguard of my forces on Norrath, but I dare not contact them directly for fear of being detected by the Plaguebringer.” She took the guardian’s large face in her two slender hands. “I need you to return to Norrath as my emissary to Giliath Lang. There is no one else I would send.”

A look that could only have been described as sadness crossed the panther’s face, but only for a moment. The guardian’s duty was to serve his goddess, even to the point of his own death. The sadness quickly changed to acceptance, and even resolution. He looked again at Tunare as if to ask a question. “You must leave immediately,” the goddess said, responding to her guardian’s unspoken thoughts. “There is no time to waste.” She waved her hand, and a shimmering portal appeared before the two of them. Tunare looked at the great cat, and knelt to hug its neck. “Go quickly,” she whispered into the guardian’s ear. “And be safe. You will return to me someday, of that you may be certain.” She released the panther and stood. The guardian gave his goddess one last look, and then turned and stepped into the portal. It flowed like water around the cat’s body as the great feline disappeared. A single tear flowed from Tunare’s eye. She whispered, her voice carrying into the portal as her last words to her guardian “Until we meet again…”

In the forest of Faydark and near the gates of Felwithe, an identical portal appeared. Its surface wavered for a moment, like ripples made by a faint breeze in a pond made. Suddenly the guardian of Tunare emerged from the portal and stepped on to the soil of Norrath; not on four legs, but two. A wood elf, clad in the simple garb of his people, stood silently among the trees of Greater Faydark, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells all around him. He paused for a moment, looking down to examine himself. Time passed differently in the planes, and it felt like years since he had worn this skin. Drawing in a deep breath of the forest air, he turned to head toward a familiar guild hall. That would be the place to begin his quest.

Kiren Tiradoio had come home.