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[Thrax]

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Baron Thrax, Prince of Akoris, sat in his study mulling over recent events, and none of what had transpired recently gave him any cause for optimism.

He was absolutely convinced that Lord Spawn, Sheriff of the Regency, was the avatar of Oggaroth. There is no one, other than himself and possibly Dharzhal, that could have answered the question about Kane Doomfarer that he had asked Spawn at the Regency meeting... and answer correctly. Then followed the wanton killing of Duchess Molly and no doubt countless others since then. And there would be many more unless he were stopped.

But how to do that?

Killing Spawn would not do. In an age where healers were perfecting their art and plying their trade freely, his corrupted shade would simply find some misbegotten son of Mondain wandering about to bring him back to life. And things for Spawn might be even worse as Oggaroth's hold on his soul could be greater than it was before.

Imprisonment might help, but he doubted any prison could hold a god for very long. In all likelihood Oggaroth brought with him some of his god-like powers to use in cases of emergency... possibly superhuman strength, clairvoyance, telepathy and mind control. He could not discount any of that. He knew the god too well to imagine he had no escape plan in mind, should he be captured.

Knowledge was the key, Thrax knew. There had to be some means to exorcise the avatar from Spawn's body and banish it from this plane. With that in mind, the Baron left the manor to visit an old acquaintance across the way whom he had allowed to live in Thraxstadt... Dharzhal T'Ar, the Black Prince.

The door to the temple of Lloth opened easily at his touch and he stepped inside. It was dark of course, with no lighting of any kind. Drow liked it that way. He moved forward uneasily stopping only when he heard a voice from around the corner. "Baron Thrax. What brings you here?"

He recognized it as that of the drow he had formerly served under, then superseded, then tried to destroy at the behest of Oggaroth. "I wish to speak with you on a matter of utmost importance," he replied.

Light flared and the Baron shielded his eyes momentarily. He watched as the drow lit a candelabra's candles, slowly and deliberately, and then returned to sit at a wooden stool beside a stone table covered with alchemical apparatus. "What is it? Are we behind on rent?" he asked as he went back to examining the contents of various flasks and vials.

Thrax could not suppress a chuckle. "If it were only that," he replied. "You know what has happened, don't you?"

Dharzhal nodded. "Yes. Oggaroth is here on this plane as the prophecy foretold."

"You penned those words yourself in the Necrodex."

"I did."

"You did not say what would happen afterward except that the world would be changed forever... that his followers would rule a renovated realm. Was that a hopeful expectation or foresight?"

There was a long pause. "Nothing is absolute. I was seeing what Oggaroth wanted me to see. His power is that of a god, yes, but there are other gods who would fight him at every turn. He is not omnipotent."

"Then there is hope?"

"There is always hope."

"He has taken the body of the Sheriff of the Regency, Lord Spawn and is killing like a genocidal madman. How can we stop him?"

Dharzhal turned to look at him. "You can do nothing alone. To fight a god, you need another god... one equally powerful... either on this plane itself, or else one that offers its powers to combat his evil. There is no other way... and, as I said, nothing is absolute."

Thrax thought for a moment. "What about Lloth? Would she intercede?"

The drow snorted. "Intercede? For humans who despise her?"

"But she and Oggaroth fought years ago, you once told me. They battled to a draw in the Underdark. She bears no love for him. Is that not true?"

"That was long ago... and the battle was costly to them both. I doubt either would wish to repeat it. Besides, her interests are not threatened here... yet."

"Then who?"

Dharzhal went back to his alchemical work. "Concordia... Quaestra Concordia... is the mortal enemy of Oggaroth. She has had avatars here before... among her priestesses. Call upon her... if she will answer you, but she did not me in my hour of dire need," he said wistfully, as he momentarily reflected on the horrors he experienced among the undead as he tried to return to the surface from the Underdark. She had warned him not to go and when he cried for help from her, it had been Lloth, not her, who had offered to save him from a fate worse than death. "She has been forgotten and all but forsaken by her worshippers. If she ignored their pleas, I would not be surprised or blame her at all. Men get what they deserve when they forsake their gods."

Believing the jab was aimed at his own agnosticism, he replied courteously nonetheless. "Well, I thank you for your counsel."

Dharzhal nodded. "Such as it was."

Baron Thrax turned to leave, but stopped, lowering his head. "I have never asked for forgiveness from anyone; it is not my way. But you were right to do what you did in leaving Oggaroth. I hounded you and framed you for it. You received a beating for a crime that was not your own," he said, referring to the trial in Nujel'm when he was caned for the poisoning of the Papuan water supply. "I am... sorry."

The drow lowered the vial he held in his hand, and stared at the wall. "You forget that I poisoned you as well and nearly killed you. Our sins are of the past, Baron. Let them remain there out of sight and mind. Nothing matters but the present and future. Be content with that."

Thrax nodded and left, but when he considered the present and future, it left him anything but content.