the WhiteHand

The WhiteHand was not of the Three Kingdoms, it was not of any one kingdom or principality or theocracy or combine, rather the WhiteHand came forth from the children of the Great Empire. In long ages past the Great Empire was the world, but then the War came - the War of Things Uncreated. Many things are said of that time and that place, of that War which is still spoken of only in whispers. The great Paladins (the now-extinct MageKnights) fought with great ferocity and courage, but the servants of Darkness fought just as fiercely. The facts of the destruction of the Great Empire remain forgotten and unremembered, but the truth of its end is etched in the hearts and psyches of all the descendants of the survivors. They fled that land: north, south, east. They fled as refugees running from a terror so complete that no one chose to return. Over time the magicks that had been set loose during that time were gathered again, the men and women who understood the Practice were united under one Guild.

The Guild of Superstitio Mortibus was created from the ashes; even though the current people of the land do not remember what the strange words mean, they do know that that is the Name for the Arte of Magick. The wielders themselves come in many sizes and temperments, bloodlines and kingdoms, but they all pledge allegiance to the Overseers, to the Controllers, to the WhiteHand. It matters not what School of Magick one chooses, whether of water or fire or earth or air, whether the Green or the Gold, the Brown or the Grey, it doesn't matter under what King or Prince or Priest or Guildsman they live - all must pledge allegiance to the WhiteHand or face death. The Renegades, those who have refused to align themselves, have a price on their head till the day they die.

This is the arrangement, the Great Balance, that has been the Law since the end of the Great Empire. Mages are beholden to the WhiteHand and the WhiteHand is in turn beholden to the rulers of each land where the mages reside. If a mage were to attempt any subterfuge, any act against a prince of the land, not only would that mage face death but the whole of the WhiteHand would face chastisement. For this reason the WhiteHand has come to control the practitioners of the arte with a great deal of rules and regulations, of customs and rites and rituals. This, too, is part of the Great Balance.

"...there is great imbalance in the lands," concluded Lord Mage Xavier.

The others of the Council murmured and whispered agreement. The signs and omens had been growing steadily for a year at the least. The mountainlands and the fens, the deserts and the seas seemed to be in a turmoil both great and small, obvious and subtle.

"The Shreken in Allaria," said Urlathe the Tender. "The Dragon is gone but it is alive with many other things."

"Aye," added Thule huffing as he did so. "The kites have only just come back! Messages both wild and aweful!"

The other Archmages looked to their two Allarian brothers. The kites were the unique species of bird that had long been trained by the wielders of Mortibus but untameable by any other. Over the centuries aviaries had been constructed in the major cities where the WhiteHand chose to dwell, Caemlyn of Allaria being one such city. The birds were large, bigger than a man, and some could even carry a man - for short distances.

"Don't hold your tongue," urged Crystal Underpond of Gala. "Tell us the news!"

"You know that nearly fifty days ago our King Exultaine sent out a Dragon Hunter to the Shreken," said Urlathe. "Our brothers and sisters in those lands are few and far between. They spend their time traveling, gathering lore, looking for those who may have the gift of the arte."

"We know all this," quipped Conti of Gana. "Tell us what we do not know."

"Strange tales have always been part of the lands in the shadow of the Shreken," continued Urlathe. "But in the last few months, even weirder stories have come out."

"And omens!" interrupted Thule who seemed to have caught his breath.

"Yes," said Urlathe. "Brother Bertrand of the White Stone School sent word to Teacher Elizabeth in Penn, word that his shewing stones trembled and cracked, that they pointed to ageless youth and reckless evil. He was given leave to investigate, but we have not heard from him since."

"But..." said Lord Mage Xavier. "We know that a Dragon, a Dragon with no head was seen in that region causing havoc and grief."

"Aye," agreed Thule. The news of the destroyed Penn still rang in his heart, "For that reason we beseeched our LeigeKing Exultaine to let our sisters and brothers fly to Penn."

"But everything takes time..." intoned Xavier. "The kites will serve well to ferry word between this Duchy of... of... what do you call it?"

"Stonewall, oh Lord Mage, the Duchy of Stonewall," answered Urlathe. "They shall fly from what is left of Penn to Caemlyn, from Caemlyn to Castlebar, from Castlebar to GreyHawk. But as you said, everything takes time, and until that time we are left without knoweldge. Unless..."

"No," said Lord Mage Xavier. "I know your mind as you have asked this before. Though we hold six of the orbs, we shall not look into them. We are not strong enough yet to resist whatever thing lives in those depths. We all know what happened to brother Karst of Califie."

"But we still do not know what the latest kite has given us!" growled an impatient mage from the independant Fiefdom of Latham.

"We have news from brother Feldaer in Hillton that a foreign woman has been seen along the borderland between Allaria and Gelda. The tales are varied, some surely the words of frightened idiots, but it seems that death follows her and demon-things do her bidding."

"WHAT?!?" erupted Hale the Purger who was born in that horse-country.

"It be true as far as our brothers and sisters can gather," said Urlathe. "This be only one more confirmation that the Shadows are rising."

"And with them a Shadow War..." murmured the Lord Mage Xavier of the Council of the WhiteHand.

1. ...and on the hooves of madness came a horseman in the night...
2. ...Velus in the Vale....

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