It had been an ordinary day. Naurr awoke to the sound of some small bird
chirping on his windowsill. He silently arose from his extravagant bed, and
strode over to the window, with a faint smile dancing about his lips. Naurr
extended a muscular arm to stroke the bird, but it flew away immediately. A
sigh escaped Naurr's mouth. Krokani tended to have that effect on creatures.
He turned the gaze of his sole eye to the majestic plains stretched outside the
castle. The Grey Moors met his eye, beautiful, rugged, and somehow, foreboding.
The waving patches of heather and unyielding rocks were tossed aimlessly
outside his window. But something wasn't right. A knot twisted in Naurr's
stomach. It had seemed like an ordinary day.

Rashaala stiffly strode throughout her encampment. She was an average-sized
aslaran, and exceedingly slender. She always had a faint smile fixed on her
face. Her eyes were dark green, entrancing all the other aslaran who looked at
her. Long flowing robes of crimson adorned Rashaala, tailored perfectly to
match every groove and curve in her body. It was definite that she had much
control of mind, body, and speech. Rashaala exuded a fierce determination as
she surveyed the hushed encampment. Relatively large and furnished tents were
strewn across the area, decorated with vivid colors and animal pelts. It was
first light, and all was still. Rashaala enjoyed the mornings. The only sound
was the rough, muffled noise of her own feet. The Grey Moors were illuminated
by the dim glow of the rising sun. Off in the distance, like a beast in a
meadow, loomed Castle Djarrakh. Housing those krokani. The one-eyed
monstrosities of the Basin. Rashaala shivered slightly. She and her fellow
aslaran were a proud race, unlike the krokani. Aslaran and krokani just
weren't meant to get along. But that was alright. It wasn't as though the
aslaran needed a single krokani alive. They'd be better off with every one of
them dead. And that horrid castle. All of it, sent to Nil. Rashaala doubted
that either race would ever help one another. Of course, they were closer than
they thought. Far off, a bird chirped.

Around mid-morning, Castle Djarrakh's inhabitants were going about their daily
business. Naurr was patrolling the grounds with his fellow guards. He had
never really grasped the idea of guards. Who in their right mind would assault
a castle filled with massive krokani? Naurr thought for a moment. Perhaps the
aslaran. Yes, they would be just the type. Naurr spat on the ground in
contempt. The only thing those creatures were good for was eating. It would
be a sad day when any krokani cared about ridiculous things, such as herbs and
potions. After making his way over to the northern wall, Naurr scanned the
Grey Moors. Vkojann was due back shortly. He had gone to Magnagora for the
Emperor's Project Cosmic Hope, another experiment of Ladantine's. Naurr didn't
think that this would affect Castle Djarrakh in any way, which was secluded from
the rest of the Basin. He shrugged nonchalantly. Vkojann was their ArchLord,
no questions asked. Project Cosmic Hope was dismissed from Naurr's mind.
Whatever the Emperor was thinking wasn't the business of krokani. Besides, it
would turn out alright.

The same thoughts filled Rashaala's head. Emperor Ladantine was intent on
further exploring the Planes. Rashaala was content with everything she had,
and didn't see any sense in looking for more. Some would just never be
satisfied. Aslaran warriors were up by now, prowling the area with keen, open
senses, ready for danger. Rashaala sensed that a danger would come. Soon. At
first, she thought it seemed like it would be another krokani attack.
Rashaala's head shook slowly. No, it was something…more. She couldn't quite
explain it. Nevertheless, she tended to the needs of her aslaran, giving
guidance to all.

A sharp cry broke the uneasy stillness at Castle Djarrakh. Naurr was awoken
from his short doze and darted to Leccre, the guard who had shouted. Way off
in the distance, on the northeastern edge of the Grey Moors, Vkojann could be
seen. Krokani are not easily missed, even from a fair distance away.
"Vkojann has returned!" shouted Leccre, once more. Growing amounts of krokani
turned up at the site, to await their leader's arrival. A few minutes later,
Vkojann lumbered into the castle gates. He was tall, even for a krokani. The
aquiline features of his face included a pointed chin and ears. His eye was
hard and cold, and he had a habit of always turning his head to get a better
view of something, never his eye. The ArchLord was wearing a lustrous suit of
golden armor. His shoulders were broad, casting a wide shadow in the available
sunlight. He scanned the krokani, before letting out a deep chuckle.
"Ladantine, the fool!" he sneered. "Project Cosmic Hope was a complete and
utter disaster! Some black cloud has erupted from the Stone of Truth. The
cities are in an uproar. Ladantine isn't anywhere to be found. And the cloud
is moving. Slowly. Spreading west, towards Gloriana." At this point, all
krokani turned their heads to the far off city of Magnagora. Indeed, the city
seemed to be melting under a great black haze. Ever so slowly, the tainted
cloud was coming towards the Grey Moors. A pit opened in everyone's gut.
"No…" Naurr groaned. "It will pass through Gloriana…and then…consume us!"
Each krokani realized the truth in this. They were doomed.

Evidently, the aslarans had just noticed as well. Rashaala was perched on a
rock, not daring to tear her gaze away from the dark cloud. She sat there,
with a permanent worried look on her face. No, this couldn't be happening.
Rashaala had not bargained for this when she had accepted the job of being the
encampment's leader. A nervous cough broke out behind Rashaala. She turned
around to find Zelu, a young warrior, anxiously fidgeting with his robes.
"Mistress, what is that?" Zelu extended a quivering hand to point at the
sinister blur.
"I'm not sure, my son," answered Rashaala, slowly shaking her head. "It
doesn't look good. Don't worry, I'm sure everything will turn out fine." Zelu
noted the distant uncertainty in her voice. This was unlike Rashaala, who
normally asserted authority among her encampment. Deep in the recesses of
Rashaala's mind, the aslaran reached a decision.
"We must use the Claw…" she muttered, in a scarcely recognizable voice.
"Mistress?" questioned Zelu, with a hint of concern in his voice. He wondered
if the aslaran had finally snapped. Rashaala rose fluidly, as if in a daze, and
walked over to her mystic, Bheiol's, decorated tent. A diminutive fire burned
inside, the smoke escaping through a hole in the tent fabric. The smoke
obscured Rashaala's vision, limiting sight to a few feet. Out of the haze, she
sought out the vague shape of Bheiol. She strode over to him and sat down.
After several exchanged whispers and nods, Bheiol hurriedly left the tent.
Rashaala slumped down and rubbed her temples slowly, attempting to compose her
nerves. It didn't' work.

A few minutes later, Bheiol returned. In his wake were the other aslaran
leaders throughout the encampment. Rashaala politely motioned for them to sit
down on the bright, multihued mats, and commenced the discussion.
"No doubt, friends, you have seen the corruption that threatens our very
existence. I am afraid that there is little we can do. I have meditated much
upon this topic, and come to one conclusion; our only course of action."
"And what would that be, Rashaala?" asked Illu, the aslaran warrior.
"The Claw of Shanth," responded Rashaala, "is the only defense against this
dark menace. The cloud was released shortly after Emperor Ladantine launched
Project Cosmic Hope, which leads me to believe that the Emperor has something
to do with this. This is what we get for meddling in Planes that are not known
to us. This power from a mysterious, distant Plane is on the verge of
destroying us. We must act now!" Gasps of worry rippled through the aslaran.
Some shook their great hairy heads, not daring to believe these words.
Caarzack, another aslaran warrior, spoke out.
"Yet even if we are forced to use the Claw of Shanth, there is yet another
obstacle. It alone would not be enough to hold off this evil. It would need
to be combined with something owned by the krokani, most likely their
keystones. And the preferred site would be Castle Djarrakh's courtyard, where
the infected cloud could be stopped before it wipes out the majority of the Grey
Moors." Arguments instantaneously broke out at this comment.
"Not possible!" yelled Illu. "I've long defended our encampment against those
krokani, and now you are suggesting we will come crying at their feet? This
will not happen!" A few murmurs of agreement followed.
"Illu, you must understand. It is either we all live, or are all destroyed.
There is no ‘one or the other'. We are all in equal danger." Mild debate
came, but soon, all of the elder aslaran realized that this was their one and
only chance. Rashaala walked out of the mystic's tent, into the bright
sunlight, which seemed to be glumly shining a desultory light upon the Grey
Moors. She continued walking, into her tent. After wobbling the back of her
grand wooden throne for a bit, a soft thud rewarded her efforts. She picked up
the bundle wrapped in leather, and returned to the outside of Bheiol's tent.
Illu, Caarzack, and Bheiol were patiently waiting. Rashaala nodded astutely,
sighed, and left for Castle Djarrakh, trailed by the three aslaran.

At Castle Djarrakh, tensions were running high. The cloud was consuming the
Gloriana Forest Commune. The once clear forest was now shrouded in a misty
gloom. The mysterious, cruel cloud was swirling around its ground. Suddenly,
an unbearably loud caw resounded throughout the air. A great, oily Crow rose
up over the Master Ravenwood Tree, casting a dark, mysterious shadow. Its
bloodshot eyes roved the forest anxiously, seeking something unknown to the
krokani. Vkojann let out a weak sigh of disbelief.
"The Wise Raven is no more…think of what this tainted air will do to us!"
Naurr shivered in trepidation. So this was it. This was the end. Naurr felt
his eye well up with tears of frustration. He turned his great head away from
the sight for some consolation. The spectacle that he saw caused him to let
out an involuntary cry of shock and abhorrence. Rashaala and her guard were
walking through the castle's cavernous entrance. Vkojann swirled around, his
eye hardening. Rashaala strode boldly forward.
"Vkojann, we can save the Grey Moors. I have brought the Claw of Shanth. If
we combine it with the krokani keystones, it should work! Quick, me must
invoke them before it is too late!" Vkojann did nothing, apart from continue
staring at Rashaala with enmity. After what seemed like hours, Naurr tore his
eye away from the aslaran to glance at the black cloud's progression. Naurr
screeched in fear.
"It's almost upon us, Vkojann! Take her offer! We'll all be destroyed!"
Everyone present looked upon the cloud once more. It had apparently finished
with Gloriana, and was streaking towards Castle Djarrakh, less than half a mile
away.
"Fine!" spat Vkojann. "Your Claw should go well with our keystones." Vkojann
dashed as fast as a krokani can to the western stairwell and disappeared into
the castle's tower. The next few minutes were among the worst of Naurr's life.
He stood, staring at the haze heading towards them. It was almost there…they
weren't going to make it… Vkojann reappeared in the gateway. In his arms was
a package wrapped in aslaran skin. He gave the four aslaran a nasty smile.
"To the courtyard!" he hissed. The host of krokani and the aslaran followed
the ArchLord.

The courtyard looked as though the floor was carved out of one giant stone.
Unknown symbols were inlaid into the base, strange and inexplicable. An
abundance of plants thrived around the stone area, most notably merbloom and
rosehip. The courtyard was obviously cared for by some hard working krokani.
In the four corners of the courtyard rested large wooden statues. Each
depicted a life-size krokani, carved crudely out of wood. One showed a krokani
worker, another, a scholar, the third, a warrior, and the last portrayed a
craftsman. The hand of each was extended out, as if ready to hold an object.

Vkojann unwrapped his sack and took out four spherical stones with black runes
etched into them. He put each into a separate hand of the waiting statues.
Vkojann smirked and nodded curtly to Rashaala, who ambled to the center of the
courtyard. She slowly unwound the doings of her small portion of leather, and
exposed its contents. Naurr had never seen anything so splendid. It was the
Claw of Shanth. About a foot long, it was in the perfect form of titanic
aslaran's index claw. The tip was razor sharp at its point. The entire
artifact was gold, but, as Naurr noted, seemed to have more meaning. It gave
off a faint glow of glory, purifying the air around it. Rashaala nodded sagely
at the Claw of Shanth, recognizing its grandeur. She muttered something
incoherent under her breath, and held the Claw of Shanth up high. Immediately,
silvery rays of radiance shot out from each statue's hand, and supported it.
Rashaala backed away from the Claw of Shanth, allowing it to do its work.

Naurr looked eastwards. The foul cloud had begun to fold over Castle
Djarrakh. Vkojann pursed his lips, watching the statues. Rashaala's eyes were
closed, and she seemed to be praying. Suddenly, rays of the same silvery light
exploded from the Claw of Shanth. The beams randomly quivered, and formed into
a shield of light, a barricade against the contaminated shade. The air around
the aslaran and krokani began to whistle. Softly at first, but became louder
and louder, until it was nearly intolerable. All eyes were fixed upon the
black cloud as it attempted to break through the silvery obstruction. An
earsplitting screech reverberated throughout the Grey Moors. The fabric of
resistance was holding off the black cloud. Aslaran and krokani alike gave a
gasp of relief, unheard over the shrill noise of the air. Rashaala tried to
shout over the din.
"It's working! The barrier is holding!" And it was. Naurr stared in
fascination at the mystical wall that was protecting his home. Every krokani
did so. But not the aslaran. Rashaala, Illu, Caarzack, and Bheiol were each
in a corner of the courtyard. They had been inching towards the statues ever
since the light had been released. With a nod from Rashaala, the each grabbed
the now-glowing keystones from the hands of the statue nearest to them. The
air immediately ceased whistling. A blinding flash of white burst from the
Claw of Shanth, but only momentarily, before Rashaala grabbed the artifact.
And fled.

The krokani instantly came out of their trance. Vkojann screamed in anger and
turned around, his one eye seeking out the aslaran. But they were gone.

The courtyard began to tremble and quake. The krokani dispersed with shrieks
of fear and panic. Most fled to the nearby western tower. ArchLord Vkojann
angrily stood there, the only living being left in the area. He cursed in
outrage as the cloud broke the shining wall easily, shattering it into a grey
mist. A resonant crack rang through Castle Djarrakh as the courtyard cracked
in two.

Naurr had raced up back to his bedroom in the western tower. A few scattered
krokani had also picked this room to hide in. Naurr dashed over to the
windowsill, which had a decent view of the courtyard. He was just in time to
see the dark smog begin to swirl around the courtyard. It spun, the noise of
the wind drowning out the screams of terror coming from various locations about
the castle. The eastern walls of the castle were in the way of the cloud's
path, and were reduced to either crumbling mortar or decayed dust. An
unfamiliar mist was floating in the center of the courtyard, which Naurr
acknowledged as the defeated barrier. The atmosphere began to crackle as the
cloud spiraled one last time, up into the sky, and blasted down into the
yawning hole of the courtyard. A final shout came from Vkojann, before the
black malevolence collapsed the courtyard floor, taking the ArchLord with it.
Swiftly, the silvery mist unexpectedly reformed into a strong barrier once
more, and slammed down over the deep fissure in the courtyard with a strident
thud. And finally, silence returned.

Rashaala, Illu, Caarzack, and Bheiol sprinted as fast as they could
northwestwards, back towards the encampment. Anomalous noises were coming from
Castle Djarrakh, which they didn't look behind them to see. One last vociferous
thump sliced through their ears. This was followed by another sound. None of
the aslaran had heard it for a while, and had almost forgotten it. Silence.
Nothing moved. It was if the entire Grey Moors had been stopped. Rashaala
called out to the others.
"Hurry, we must be going. We have probably killed the majority of the krokani
in that accursed castle. Let us make haste!" The four aslaran sped up, and
carried on with their run to the encampment. It had been a long day.

Naurr was stunned. This hadn't happened. He dreamily walked down the
staircase and out into the courtyard. The once beautiful castle wasn't much
more than a pitiful ruin. The only marginally decent portion of it was the
western tower, which stood high compared to the rest of the moldering stone.
The wooden statues, amazingly, were still intact. Naurr looked down and let
out a gasp. It seemed as though he was standing on the hole, put closer
inspection revealed the silvery barrier which had momentarily saved the castle
from its fate. It lay across the opening, sealing its contents forever. Naurr
brought his trembling hands up to his head. Why did the Emperor need to
continue with his Project? Was this what he had wanted? It was difficult for
Naurr to believe that just this morning, he had awoken to the sound of a bird
chirping. That now seemed like another life.

Rashaala, flanked by her warriors and mystic, made it back safely to the
aslaran encampment, to their waiting, worried friends. They had, with no
doubt, heard the peculiar sounds emanating from Castle Djarrakh. The story
spread around. The story how Castle Djarrakh had been nearly eradicated, and
how the cloud may have killed every last krokani. And it was all courtesy of
the four courageous aslaran. Rashaala motioned the three who had accompanied
her away from the crowd of cheerful aslaran, and took them into a small, empty
tent. She sat them down.
"Castle Djarrakh is barely a threat to us now. The only thought that worries
me is that the warped thing is now sealed in its basements. I am inclined to
believe that it could be released, if the keystones which each of you are
holding are placed back into the wooden statues, which are probably still
standing, against all odds. There was some magic in them, I know that." She
continued. "You will find that you cannot destroy these stones. I am asking
each one of you to hide them, maybe bury them, or take them far away from this
place. Tell no one of what you do with them. We pray that we may keep the
monstrous gloom sealed in Castle Djarrakh." Each aslaran alternatively nodded
in understanding. Rashaala dismissed them to fulfill their task. She did not
get up, however, but instead stayed sitting on the aged, leather mat of the
tent.

The keystone was centered in her field of vision. It had all worked out, not
all of it purposely, yet she was entirely satisfied with the results. Castle
Djarrakh was no longer a foreboding threat to her aslaran. The krokani had
been badly shaken, dwindled in their numbers. And the aslaran had
unintentionally sealed the contorted cloud's threat beneath Castle Djarrakh.
It was hard to think that only earlier this morning, Rashaala had walked
through the easy silence of the aslaran encampment.

It had seemed like an ordinary day.