Omnispace. The Court of the Magi.
Lord Monitor approached the podium slowly. The audience chamber, while not large, seemed to span the length of the sphere this day. The podium rested in the middle of a large, circular table. Seated at the table were the Council of Nine, the ruling body of Omnispace. Behind them, in a circular theater-style setting, were ambassadors, magi, statesman and other important personages of the Omni sphere. Lord Monitor was used to speaking in this place... for over a half-millenia, he had been Imperium Ars Magican, leader of this sphere.
Today, he savored each step. He wanted to remember walking silently on the marble and gold-inlaid floor. Breathe the sweet, pure air. Look around to each member of the council, as he had for years. This was the last time he would address them, and he wanted to remember it all.
Above him, the high circular glass dome reflected sunlight against his blue, black and silver armor. No one questioned how he, a magi, a member of the most exclusive magic-using race in the known spheres, could wear armor. He simply could. No one questioned him on any decision he would make, not even this one. He had decided to retire, after leading the council for such a short time. After all, what was 500 years to an immortal?
The gathered representatives of Omnispace's governing body waited in anticipation for the event to come. Most of those attending the ceremony would never have believed they would see the transfer of the leadership of the council. Many had asked why Lord Monitor was stepping down, allowing Colicor to assume control. Some believed that he was tired of being a leader. After all, hadn't he just returned some four solar cycles ago after journeying throughout the known spheres? He could retain leadership of the council, and have it run through his advisors, as he had for so many years.
There were those who believed that Lord Monitor had been coerced, blackmailed, or perhaps controlled by Colicor into giving up the leadership. Many wouldn't put it past Colicor; he was a man who was determined to get his way, no matter what the cost.
Yet those questions, and many more, would go unanswered. No one in his cabinet, none of his advisors, not even Lord Monitor himself would answer why he was leaving office. He didn't want to leave the Council divided, it was said. Lord Monitor spent hours and days arguing and debating with the other members to accept Colicor as their leader.
Whatever few murmurs there were in the chambers, they all disappeared when Lord Monitor stepped onto the speaker's podium. A silver disk, when the designated speaker stepped into the center, would raise several feet off the ground, so all gathered would be able to hear and see the speaker clearly. Lord Monitor gently ascended above them. He turned, looking over each sentient gathered for one more farewell, then after what seemed like hours, finally spoke.
"Greetings to you all, members of the council, representatives of the worlds of Omni, honored guests. I stand before you one last time as your regent. I have decided to end my years of service to Omnispace and its people this day, the first of Thoran."
"Many have questioned why I am leaving. Let me say that I have merely grown tired of the heavy weight of leading you. I am not saying that serving you, and all who live in this, the finest sphere known, has been a burden. Rather let me say that I feel that I can no longer lead you as I should."
"Many have questioned my long absences from this body. Many have long felt that I should take a more direct method of ruling. That has never been my way. But I am not here today to make accusations. I am not here today to point the finger of blame. I am not here today to cause any grief."
"I am here today merely to say goodbye."
"At this time I hereby, by the power granted to me by the Council of Nine of Omnispace, resign as Imperium Ars Magican. I hereby nominate Tannenbam Colicor to replace me."
"I second the motion," came a voice from below, somewhat sad and reluctantly.
"Then if there are no objections..." Lord Monitor paused for a few moments "...the motion is carried. Congratulations, Lord Colicor."
Below him, Colicor stood and bowed slightly, a slight smile crossing his thin lips, toward Lord Monitor. Colicor sat down quickly. He knew that he was not to speak this day, for it was Lord Monitor's last time in the spotlight.
"My friends," Lord Monitor resumed, "I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you, and those who have gone before you, have shown me. Many have asked where I will be staying, what I will be doing, now that I am no longer Imperium Ars Magican."
"Let me say only that I will no longer be living on Omni, although my heart will reside here forever." As he said that, he bowed slightly. With nothing more, not even a cloud of smoke, nor a thunderclap, nor a spark of light, Lord Monitor faded from the council room.
The members gathered to hear his last words began to move. Colicor just sat there, hands together, pressing against his lips. He grinned, looking out toward nothing. Today was his day, he thought. Omnispace was mine!
Omnispace. The Port of Freedom.
Resting in the waters bordering the Spire of Eternal Thought was Omni's largest spacefaring port, The Port of Freedom. According to some records, hundreds of spelljamming craft used it daily. Near one of the docks reserved for Council use was a sea-going catamaran, used to transport personnel to offshore ships too large to use the port.
A lone elf stood on the wooden docks, placing one last bag onto the catamaran. The elf tried to look inconspicuous, wearing a simple green tunic and trousers. He wore no armor, but carried a bow and quiver of arrows on his back.
The wind was strong coming in off of the Great Eastern Sea, blowing through the elf's shoulder-length silver hair. He looked up to the sky to see a red squidship descend slowly. Beside it was a flitter-like craft, one of the dock's escort ships. As the squidship was about 300 feet from the water, the pilot of the flitter waved toward the squid, letting him know he was clear to land.
The elf watched with only a passing interest; he was more interested in getting his bags into the catamaran before someone noticed him. While most dockhands gave the elf a curious look, no one bothered him. He was nothing special: just an old elf boarding another ship. Things like this happened every day.
The first mate of the catamaran, a human female with fiery red hair, broad shoulders, and a slight smile on her face, helped the elf with his one last bag, then helped him onto the slightly-rocking ship. By now, the squidship had touched down, and the waves were cresting in a little heavier now.
"Steady, sir," the first mate said, taking the elf by the elbow. He quickly removed her hand.
"Just because I've been around the stars longer than you've had a lineage, doesn't mean I'm a frail old man! Leave me be, woman."
The elf moved into the cabin, leaving the first mate to stand there with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. She watched him for a second before joining him inside.
The captain stood near the helm, a modified spelljamming helm designed to actually work better in atmosphere rather than in the stars. Lord Monitor designed them some 400 years back just for interatmosphere travel, knowing that if someone could design such a helm, it would help unify a world. Lord Monitor refused to share the design with Arcane, Dowhar or any other offworld species; in fact, he designed the helm to only operate in Omnispace.
To date, the Arcane have tried several thousand variations on Lord Monitor's design. To date, none of them have worked. Needless to say, Lord Monitor isn't very high on the Arcane's list.
"Are you ready to go, sir?" the captain, another female, this time an elf, asked. The older elf just nodded as he took a passenger seat. The captain looked to the first mate, then took the helm. The craft lurched ever-so-slightly forward, then left the surface of the water. Within minutes, it was away from the docks, headed for a grayish-blue whaleship resting in the middle of the sea.
Onboard the whaleship, it's captain stood on the bridge looking forward at the approaching catamaran. The captain, an older-looking human with white hair and a salt-and-pepper beard, stood with his hands behind his back. He wore the uniform of Omnispace Defense Force, the security and protective army of Omnispace. It was crisp, not showing a wrinkle, a contrast to the lines forming in the captain's face. A crewmate approached, bowing slightly.
"Captain Bauer?" he said quietly, bowing slightly. Captain Bauer turned to face her.
"Yes?"
"Sir, that's the last member of the cabinet to board. Once Minister Hearth is..."
"Ensign," Captain Bauer snapped quietly, "although I know this crew has been sworn to secrecy about the nature of the voyage, I would rather you not mention any names of our passengers."
The ensign bowed slight, embarrassed. "I apologize, captain. But, sir, where are we transporting the cabinet mem...passengers to?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, ensign."
"I understand, sir." With that, the ensign bowed slightly, turned, and returned to her duties. Captain Bauer looked back out the portal, watching as the catamaran had finally reached the ship. One of his crew offered Morgan Hearth a hand off the catamaran, only to have it swatted away.
Even the captain was at a loss as to Lord Monitor's instructions. He was transporting the members of his personal cabinet off world, along with a cadre of his best officers, but none of the crew knew where. What was more puzzling, was why he didn't want anyone to know about this. Still, the captain thought, orders were orders. If he wanted someone to understand them, Lord Monitor would have told them.
Toram, Spiralspace...
While it is true that most travellers, traders and adventurers within Spiralspace journey to the Rock of Bral within the sphere (everyone back on the homeworld insists on them getting an authentic "My friends visited the Rock of Bral and all I got was this crummy T-shirt"), some know that the world Toram is known for better values, a lower crime rate, and friendlier service.
That is, if you can get past the warring Beholder factions surrounding the walled city.
The planet of Toram, a ringworld approximately twelve Spelljamming days travel from the primary of Spiralspace, was known for not being very hospitable to off-worlders. Most of the planet was dominated by Beholder clans, all of them in a constant state of warfare against the others. Some time in the distant past, a third party set up a "free city" near the top of the planet, surrounded it with walls and declared that any and all beholders who travelled within its walls could not battle each other.
At this point, the builders lay several powerful mythal which would nullify all beholder abilities within their walls. Whoever built this city is information lost forever, but the city still stands. The few human and demi-human settlers on the planet claimed the city and set up a trading post. However, the beholders didn't much like off-worlders laying claim to their world. So, they decided that any and all ships entering Toram's airspace would be subject to beholder attacks.
This, needless to say, has not helped the tourist trade.
Some sentients have been able to enter the Free City, as it became known, without attacks, whether it be with the help of a cloaked helm, or using elaborate magical spells to make their ships look like Beholder spacefaring craft. Other races, like Neogi and Illithids, come and go as they please. The Beholders decided long ago not to bother with these two races.
Free City is an interesting place. On one side, it's a trading port where commerce is welcomed, but on the other side it's a safe haven for slave traders, black market dealings, and illegal activities frowned upon by peaceful worlds.
The mythal which protects the inhabitants from Beholder attacks, however, has mutated over the years. Now, strange, unexplainable magical surges have been known to take place at random times and places. Geysers of magical energy have been known to erupt and literally destroy buildings. Only on rare occasions had sages been able to guess when one would occur. Most of the magical effects are breathtaking, but sometimes the mythal fools them, resulting in smaller, stranger events.
Such was the one that happened just moments ago in a back alley of the Free City. With no warning, with neither pomp or circumstance, a tall, well-built man wearing just a loincloth and sandals appeared. Despite the shadows crawling within the alley, it was easy to tell this was not a human. He laid on his back, with no hair on his copper-colored body other than recently-shaved eyebrows. His skin appeared tougher than most, almost like it had been dried under the sun for years. Attached to his waist was a strange weapon: At one end was a large, curved ax-like metal blade, intricately carved. It was attached to an ivory, gold and silver handle, with the other end featuring two rather nasty metallic spikes.
He laid there motionless. It appeared the man was just in a devastating fight. Wounds covered most of his flesh. But, as he lay there, they seemed to heal themselves. In the shadows, watching this sentient heal himself, were cold eyes. Within three minutes of his appearance, he was completely healed. The eyes moved out of the shadows, as a thief moved closer to the resting giant.
With one hand, the thief reached over for the strange blade. Just as he was close to it, the man opened his eyes, and with lightning-like reflexes, grabbed his attacker's wrist and threw him to a wall.
"Garbash! Kol-chak aii! Pro'mas quoi?"
His attacker looked at the copper man, wondering what he was saying. Whatever it was didn't matter to the thief, who went for his sword. The copper man saw this, and took his own strange blade in his right hand. Leaping toward his attacker, the copper man took him by surprise. With one swoop, the curved blade slashed open the thief's throat. Blood squirted from the open wound, and the thief fell to the ground, quickly dying.
The coppery man took his blade, and began to press the metallic quillions at the other end into the handle. Suddenly, he stopped and whirled around. A low hum in the distance caught his attention. Finally, at the near end of the alley, a beholder hovered into view. The coppery man's eyes widened in horror and fear.
"Greetings, traveller," the beholder spoke in a low, almost guttural voice. "You have finally arrived. I've been expecting you."
"Korbosh! Maan tash jimbus?"
The beholder narrowed its central eye. "Hmm...this will pose a problem. I see you don't speak the common tongue."
"I speak common," the coppery man replied. He had an accent the likes of which has never been heard before. "What type of creature are you, and where in the name of the sorcerer-kings am I?"
"I am a beholder, named Normakon. I am a sage, and if you will accept me, I will be your guide in the Free City."
"Beholder? Free City?" The copper man was confused. "Where in the Verdant Plains is the Free City?"
"I see I have a lot to explain to you. But first, what is your name? I do not wish to call you 'copper man' for the rest of our time together."
"What makes you think I will come with you?"
"It has been written," Normakon replied, his voice softer. "It has been ordained."
The coppery skinned man just looked at Normakon for a few seconds. "Very well. Since I am new to this place, I shall follow you. But be warned, be-holder. You saw what happened to this piece of sand dung."
"I give you my word, I mean you no harm."
"Very well. I would shake your hand, but..." The coppery man smiled slightly. "I am Taraq, formerly of the slave pits of Tyr. I am a gladiator, but I have no idea how I came to be in this place. The last thing I remember was elves had attacked us, and something happened to Arngor..."
"There will be time for that later, Taraq. Come, you look thirsty. Let us retire and get some mead."
Taraq and Normakon proceeded to the end of the alley, turned and walked (or floated) away.
