The Worm that Walks, no more

That my foot steps led to Iomedae,
Iomedae already accepting me as Her own.
That my foot steps led to Arueshalae,
Arueshalae who pulls me from certain demise.
That my foot steps led to Bryndrsson,
Bryndrsson's craftsmanship that has become Dawnbringer.

The Gods have been hard at work, a spark has been struck and the fire rages. The Awakening Light will be a beacon to those that embrace the righteous path. The path that Arueshalae had placed for us led through horrors, abominations, when we were at our darkest we had to shine with all our might to forge ahead. With the guidance of Arueshalae, the divine craftsmanship, the company of true heroes gathered, we were able to track and end The Worm that Walks. In that moment, a fire inside my essence roared to life...since that glorious instant, my hands and back have begun to glow with the radiance present in my wings. I feel...so much more...alive...however, no longer can I discern where my body ends and Dawnbringer begins.

An Archmage's thoughts

Such treasures. Such battles. Such victories.
In retrospect, it seemed as if all their battles since the recovery of the citadel uncovered and dismantled chinks in the armor of the Worm that Walked. Each victory the heroes attained was like an axe biting a chunk of wood from the bottom of a great tree, until they finally cornered him and, with a final push, toppled him. Sure, there was more to do, there will always be more to do, but this humble wizard felt a sense of completeness

Firstly, he felt a pulse deep in his heart. That pulse came with additional mythic grace, even deeper understanding of the divine relationship between mortals, gods, and magic. This mythic step was set apart from his previous four steps of ascension in a significant way; this time he clearly identified the presence of three pairs of hands supporting his ever-broadening shoulders. Torag, Saranrae, and Iomedae all smiled upon him and the dwarf mortal gladly accepted the divine love of all three.

Also, secondly, his mind instantly formed a key and unlocked a new tier of arcane secrets - the planes. He could now travel, with a small number of companions, to the heavens, to the hells, or anywhere between the two. He could, he suddenly thought, travel to the great hall where the celestial hound archons known as the Goden Order of Charlabu make their homes. He smiled warmly at the thought of visiting the home of his blood's pact-mates. He wondered if any of his kin had done this before.

Thirdly, he had found the proverbial trove of a lifetime, filled almost exclusively with treasures of arcane wonder. A bag of holding filled with spell books!! A second blessed book to accompany the one he was already endeavoring to fill. Metamagic rods, a flying carpet, even an instant fortress! A library of dark secrets that would surely yield valuable information to aid in their fight against the abyss, and a new fortress they could claim were no minor acquisitions in themselves.



It would take time to catalog and quantify everything. But for the first time since his cousin pulled out of that damn prison cell, he had time. They all had time. His thoughts turned to his Ring, his arcane bond, his strength against the lies of this mortal world. It had been part of him longer than anything else, and he wondered if it had the potential of focusing his enhanced power like it did his magic. He also contemplated the expanding territories they were claiming. They needed more settlers, more people of skill and talent to take advantage of the wealth and discoveries they had recovered. He then sat at a great table, and happily began counting platinum coins by stacks of 20.

The Deep Earth

The Enemies Below

Kalavakus

Neh-Thalggu

SCORIZSCAR

The House of the Rising Sun

All mortal men stand in awe of celestials and fiends, and rightfully so. Beings from above and below are proof to most that whatever their particular faith teaches them right from wrong, the struggle of good/evil is real, is divine, is sacred. Of coarse, celestials and fiends alike know the truth and power of the gods, for they are indeed one step closer to them, and may, by their nature, live among them. But an overwhelming number of them do not live in the presence of gods, and few indeed ever stand in Their company for even a brief instance. But some do.

It changed them all, they who knelt before Her. The seven hound archons, as one, fell to one knee, crossed their magnificent greatswords over their hearts, and bowed their heads deeply to Saranrae. Their minds were as sure of Her Divine Presence as their hearts were devout in their eternal love for the mistress they had served for eons, but only now had met her.

"Raise your heads, and look into my eyes, so that I may know your faces" She commanded silently.

They did, and She cupped each of their cheeks, one by one, ending each gentle grace with the softest of scratches in all the worlds under each of their chins. Each glowed with the brilliance of daybreak after her touch, and the heroes watched as the glow shrank into each of the Knights, the glow intensifying as it shrank to a brilliant ball of Holiness that hovered just above each ones heart.

"I thank you all" She said aloud in the language of celestials. When she said the words, everyone in the shrine felt the vibration of heaven's harps, and watched the balls of light vibrate into the hearts of the Knights. Tears streamed from the eyes of all the mortals as they watched these Knights become truly mythic servants of Her. One Knight stood and grasped Her Hand and kissed it.

"I am Sir Rolf McCulloch, Lt Col Marshall of the Golden Bulwark of Charlabu. We seven are now The House of The Rising Sun and we shall guard this reclaimed Shrine for You"

Rolf had marked that day, and would now celebrate it every year here. Not even weeks had passed, and he knew She was moving against the Horde in the World wound. He was worried, and was deep in prayer, for the past 20 hours. She answered, but from far away, as if she had to strain or make effort against other forces. And so he quit praying for answers, and instead turned to prayers of service, pledging his blade against any foe. He began to sweat and pant and . . .

The Dogs of War

Sir Bruno Le Noir (human paladin 8) led the cheers of the 40 warriors who had just been addressed by Sir Gundr Bronnson, the wizard who had set this unit of warriors apart in defense of the citadel. He had given them, these forty, a name, and had just acknowledged and promoted the captain that the forty men had voted and decided on for themselves.  The Dogs of War they would now be called, a group of Knights that volunteered and were chosen by Sir Gundr to bear his mythic enchantments and stand against the Horde of Chaos. He had turned them into Giants,all of them. His protections were such that neither hellfire nor abyssal lightning strikes could singe them, and once they realized that, The Dogs rained steel upon the Horde from 25 feet high in the sky. For the first time in their lives the holy fury they held in their hearts was matched by their physical ability to wreak destruction upon the unholy. And they reveled in that destruction.

Sir Bruno took his appointment seriously, and with great pride. In fact, he had added to his morning rituals a new prayer to Desna to protect him from the downfalls of Pride. But he loved the way "captain" punctuated his men's statements. But right now he was worried. It felt like he could hear a silent call. A silent call for help.  And They were all gone away.