Oleani's Road

Dedicated to Tezeal Stonespire, who passed beyond the Pales.
The Lands are poorer for his passing.

We name the Arkati as our Gods.  Long ago, they were simply students of something even greater than they, despite their immense power were.

As the mortal races matured, the Arkati became more interested in the affairs of their mortal charges.  Some even chose to involve themselves with the mortals.

This is one such story.

Appearance:

Oleani’s Road is composed of two lines of three stars each that run together in an almost parallel line.  They eventually intersect each other.  Marking this intersection is a seventh star, substantially brighter than the other stars in the formation.  The formation always rests perpendicular to the horizon, with the brightest star being the furthest from the horizon.

Location:

Oleani’s Road lies low in the eastern part of the sky, just above the horizon, in the summer.  In the winter, it rotates very slightly to the right and lies just a few degrees higher in the sky and just to the west of its summertime position.

Lore:

In the time before the schism that split the elves into the seven Noble houses, the Arkati walked among the mortal races.  Elves and Arkati alike listened intently to the teachings of the drakes.  The Arkati were less gods, and more sages and scholars, lending what wisdom and knowledge they had to the mortal races.

Some Arkati spirits ignited easily with the emotions of mortals.  It was easy for these Arkati to be consumed in the affairs of mortals.  These emotions were new and alien to the stoic Arkati.  The teaching of emotion was beyond the scope of the great drake mentors the Arkati had.

Oleani, always one of the Arkati most susceptible to mortal emotions, became enamoured of a mortal.  His race is not remembered, but Oleani devoted herself to him, despite his mortality.

Through the use of her power, she took on a mortal shell, and sacrificed much of her power and her immortality.

She arranged to have herself taken as a prize in one of this mortal’s raids.  Over time, the two fell deeply in love and married according to the customs of the man’s tribe.  Many years passed and Oleani’s espoused became a powerful leader, conquering lands and uniting several tribes in a powerful alliance.

His ego grew in proportion to his temporal might.  He grew spiteful and greedy.  During his meteoric rise to power, he committed many atrocities.  Massacres of his enemies and elaborate tortures were commonplace manifestations of his consuming hatred.

However, as he grew older and more powerful, another desire nagged at him – the need for an heir.

Driven to act because of her great love, Oleani used what remained of her divine power to bear a son to her mate.  Because this babe was part godling, from the moment of his conception he was aware of things around him.  His mind was as developed, in the womb, as a nearly full-grown mortal man.

The child absorbed something of his father’s intellect and personality.  As a toddler, he was cruel and spiteful.   He eagerly awaited every battle, nearly jumping with excitement at the thought of his father’s return, laden with booty and prisoners.

The father indulged him.  The son became a mirror of his father: cruel, malicious, and a brilliant tactician.

The boy, being part godling, matured much faster than did the other children of the tribe.  In 10 years, he stood as tall as a youth of 20.  His mind was whip quick.  He had the strength of five men and the most battle-seasoned veterans under his father’s command oversaw his training.  His blade became a lightning quick length of deadly steel.

On the day of his eleventh birthday he followed his father into battle.  The army fought fiercely and decimated the enemy army.  No prisoners were taken and not one of the enemy survived.   The father, however, was mortally wounded, and taken by litter into the camp.

Overcome with grief, Oleani threw herself at her husband’s side.  Though she had foreseen this day the realization that her husband had been a victim of his own greed and lust for power filled her with unutterable sadness.  He had failed to anticipate the effect his own ambition and lack of compassion would have on his son.  With profound anguish he realized that the razor sharp blade of his son’s sword had inflicted the wound that was slowly killing him.

Oleani bowed over her dying husband and murmured tenderly into his ear.  She whispered to him a litany of horrors he had committed and evil he had done.  Now filled with remorse, he let out a soul-wrenching sigh and solemnly nodded to his wife.  In his eyes she saw acknowledgement of her wisdom and admission of his own folly.  His eyes begged silently for her forgiveness, even as his last labored breaths rattled in his chest.  She kissed his cheek in absolution and a single tear dropped to his head in a parting blessing.  He closed his eyes and died.

Despite her grief, Oleani chose to stay with her son’s armies.   She hoped for redemption for her son.  And she watched for a way to spare her son the fate that had befallen her lover.

Years passed and Oleani’s human form grew old and gray.  Her son grew more and more powerful, occupied with conquest and bloodshed every step he took.

It came to pass that Oleani’s son and his legions sparred with army that proved to be their equals.  Rumors reached his ear that an Arkati led the rival army.  He heard whispers that the god was an evil, twisted patron of bloodshed and battle.  Undaunted, he arrayed himself for battle and, mounted his great war chariot to lead a charge on the enemy’s formed troops.

The ensuing battle was pitched.  The lines of warriors rolled back and forth across the field of battle for hours like cargo on the deck of a ship in a storm.  Finally, the enemy lines cleared and a massive, mountain of a man stepped forward.  His hair was black as pitch and hung in his face, knotted by the wind and matted with blood.  His armor was stained horribly with the blood of his enemies; its original color long obscured.  His eyes remained hidden, until the boy stepped forward to meet his challenger.  The man raised his eyes to greet Oleani’s son.  They glistened a deep red, akin to color of blood, nearly dried.

The two battled.  Sparks flew from their blades.  Horrific, almost bestial warcries split the air.  Each of the armies cowered away from the two leaders.  They both threw every ounce of their might against each other.

With each blow, Oleani’s mortal form was wracked with spasms.  She was dying her mortal death, and would soon reclaim a position in the court of the Arkati.

Finally, the great Arkati warrior was defeated.  Oleani’s son stood triumphant.  With a mighty roar, he lopped his foe’s head from his shoulders and held the head aloft for all his army to see.  With that act, he claimed the other half of his godhead and became fully Arkati.  In that moment his name became a word of power and fear, to be remembered through the ages.

His name was V’Tull.

Oleani walked from her tent, shuddering with the pain of sloughing the final vestiges of her mortality, even as her son howled his victory.  Tears flowed freely from her eyes and she lamented the terror she had brought into the world.  Her tears, as they fell, glowed brightly, even after they hit the ground, outlining the path she took from the camp.

Finally, she stopped and looked into the skies.  The light of her divine power blossomed into a fire and consumed her mortal guise.  The flame of her transformation and the trail of tears marking her path rose into the sky.  As her being left the mortal realm, the winds carried her words to the armies arrayed around her triumphant son.

Forgive me.