AHA! I Found it!
The light coming from the strange dragon-sword of Justice Fairweather fades, and you see the strange, black-skinned, emaciated creatures fleeing from the undoubtedly Holy light of her short ceremony. One of the walking dead that had mere moments ago assaulted you leaps off the cliff into the freezing waters below, apparently in abject terror. Another flees across the cliff face, snapping tendrils trailing behind as it seeks easier quarry than yourselves.
Arfin Kegsplitter, once a member of the Nobles’ Council, looks across the chaos of a city under siege. He takes a deep breath, looks over his battered and bloodied companions and says, “Shall I make a Wish, friends?”
As his gaze slides from one to the next, each in turn, they begin to nod. Oceanus must be saved, and it may take the power granted Arfin by the Deck of Many things, once encountered in their dreams, to keep the people of this once-great city safe. Justice does not nod, but nor does she shake her head. Whatever happens now shall be irrevocable…Arfin finds himself hoping, begging, pleading with the spirits of his ancestors to grant him wisdom in this time of crisis.
He opens his mouth to speak. Before the first, tiny breath can escape a mouth that, in personal triumph, has not tasted ale in weeks, light flashes on the cobblestone street near Oceanus’s great drydocks. Arfin lets out a cry, and the rest of the group moves to cover their temporarily blinded eyes. As the light fades, a man stands where the light appeared—a familiar face resolving out of the now-dimming light.
The figure wears black armor; a skull with blue-starred eyes stares out, emblazoned upon his chest. A dark purple cloak lays limp across his back, clasped at his shoulders with a golden brooch, also in the shape of a skull. Two swords sit, sheathed at his hips, and long, dexterous fingers clasp them by the hilts.
It is the face, however, that shocks you. Staring out from beneath a shadowed cloak are the eyes of a friend—the eyes of Archonus Areandor. The scar of his heritage seems somehow brighter on his face, and the blue birthmark that has so dominated his actions for all the time that you have known him seems to blaze as he begins to speak.
He nods to the figure in the crimson mask, to the Archonus that you have fought beside for months. A look of sadness and regret seems to cross his face, but his features quickly harden, and he turns toward Arfin. “I do not have much time,” he says, in a voice that cannot help but be familiar to you. “Arfin, do not speak! The world you would create is far more terrible than you can know…”
Before the strange Archonus that has appeared can speak more, the crimson-masked Archonus steps forward, pulling down his mask to uncover his unchanged face. Obviously stunned, he speaks to the apparition. “Who in the name of the Light are you?”
Grimacing, almost as if he has lived this moment before, and had become annoyed with its predictability, the dark Archonus speaks once more, “I am the Sword of the North, the last son of the True Line. My family’s line is that which binds this red world of war and death to the blue star that ever hangs in the night sky. I am a servant of my blood, and no more. Though I was once you, I am now Archonus Bluestar, and you would do well to fear me.”
Turning his attention once more to the stunned Dwarven warrior, he draws his swords in a single, smooth motion. “Arfin, promise me that you will utter no wishes, that you will not speak the desires as granted you by those infernal cards! Arfin, promise me, or I shall end your life to prevent you from bringing Hell itself to this world!”
Stunned, Arfin nods. Weighed down by a power that he has, but knows now he shall not use, he hangs his head in shock and confusion.
The dark Archonus begins to fade before your eyes. As he does, his weakening voice nonetheless cuts to the very core of your hearts, leaving an icy wedge in your spirits. “It will serve you well to fear me, friends, for this is the last time that my words carry anything less than death! The force before you is not from the hand of my father, but he shall slumber no longer! The wings of the dark serpent shall encompass the earth, and on that day you shall beg for the light of a blue star! Beware! The western darkness has come, and soon the north shall fall upon you, as well! Beware! Beware…..”
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
I think we should also send a letter asking the bluestar for help, and how Arhconus Bluestar is doing and if he is making lots of new friends 
