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.