While Archcleric Hazen is trying to figure out why the Seers would be so badly mislead concerning what Vecna was going to do ... they have stated he is going to do a whole bunch of things he cannot do, say they ... he has his progress report on the Red Death.
The effort to stop it is going well.
The efforts of the Torilians, combined with the efforts of the clerics of the Kevellond League, have immunized the military, and are well on their way through the civilian population.
And even if a few people die, and become undead, they cannot reinfect people with the disease.
Of course, being undead, they can still KILL people, but the Kevellond League has plenty of clerics to deal with a few undead.
Archcleric Hazen takes a badly needed rest in his chair, looking out across the sky.
It is midday, the birds are singing, and the sun is shining down warm and bright on this late summer day.
In the trees, a breeze softly rustles the leaves. It is going to be one of those long, slow, summer evenings where the fireflies light up the dimness with their sparkling glory.
The birdsong comes back to Archcleric Hazen's mind.
One thing about birds, they sure sing beautifully. Hazen notes that if everyone could sing like birds do, the choirs in the churches would draw in every person in the Realm to listen to them.
Listening to them, Hazen also notes there sure are a lot of birds. Birds everywhere. Why, there must be millions of birds in Veluna alone.
Billions upon billions of them, in the vast wide world.
Archcleric Hazen sits back, sipping his drink, taking his ease, relaxing after the long grueling day of healing people from the Red Death.
Then it hits.
The glass shatters on the pavement, the drink pouring across the flagstones, forgotten.
Billions of them. Billions.
Archcleric Hazen hastily throws detect magic, and detect evil.
And there it is.
It is very faint, and it has been overlooked so far by everyone, but it is there.
The faint, fatal tinge of red. Within the birds.
They are incubating with the Red Death.
I assume Archcleric Hazen runs yelling back into the church, calling for divinations.
The divinations show the worst is true.
All the birds are infected. Every one, except for those directly associated with the Faerie.
Not only that, but all of the animals are infected.
And all of the Sea Life of Oerth.
Acererak underestimated the strength of his own disease. He may have intended the plague to strike at humans, demihumans, and humanoids only.
It is striking at every mammal on the planet.
The reptiles are immune, but not the mammals.
Then, Archcleric Hazen comes to a grim conclusion.
Yes, the undead produced by the disease cannot reinfect someone that is immune.
But they can still kill that person.
And there will not be only a few undead.
There will not be only a moderate number of undead.
There will not be only a tremendous, endless army of undead.
There will be countless billions of undead.
Unless a miracle occurs.
- - -
Vecna, who did not send the disease and had nothing to do with the whole thing, nevertheless is currently laughing.
He cradles Ahlissa, and comments:
The Servitor Races are finally coming to a True Comprehension of the situation.
And no, the Dark Union will not escape.
Neither will the Scarlet Brotherhood.
Neither will the Underdark Races.
Nobody will escape.
Acererak, my friend, you are more powerful and worthy than you give yourself credit for.
But tsk, tsk ... you have overdone yourself, my friend. You should be a little more careful. Our worthy subjects, the Suel, will suffer also from this.
Oh well ... the weak will be weeded out, and the strong shall survive. The way it should be.
Vecna leans back, definitely taking his ease, watching the happenings across the Flanaess in his magic mirror, drinking an unholy concoction which for him is the equivalent of fine wine.
it's in the first thread turn3.
