Far along the endless roads of Memory, Khalas strode towards His brother, the ever-loyal Smith of Proteus. With His cowl draped over His grey-robed figure, the Wanderer spoke urgently, imploring Phaestus to join Him in the creation of a New World. But the Dwarf Father remained immovable as a mountain, steadfastly refusing the pleas of His older Brother.
Dismay washed over the Wanderer’s face even though He knew this would be the response He would receive and confirmed a lingering suspicion: He would be abandoned by His siblings once again.
Ablaze with roiling Divine Fire, Khalas engaged Phaestus in a battle that shook the heavens. There was no flashy display or grandeur in Forge Lord’s fighting style, only a steady and relentless rhythm of hammer against God. But the Wanderer endured, His strength was a consuming rage fueled by the burning desire to break free from the world His Father had abandoned Him in. His might was the caustic compulsion to destroy all that His Father had created.
Their clash intensified and the earth trembled beneath Their feet with each thunderous blow. Phaestus’s booming voice rang out against Khalas, pleading for Him to see the madness of His ways. But no voice of reason could calm the boiling anger of the unrepentant Wanderer.
Or so it was thought, until the Smith’s calloused hand reached out to His older Brother, offering a path away from violence – a road to the Beyond and a fresh start for the Lost God.
Khalas’ eyes flickered with confusion and hope, but that optimism died as the venomous words of Black Pazuzu tainted the air with their honeyed sweetness.
“Does the God not remember His own promise? He seeks to slay you, Khalas.”
The Eldest still-living God lashed out at His younger sibling. Blow after blow fell upon the Dwarf Lord, hammering His skull against rock, shattering His body, and drenching Memory’s path in Divine blood. As Death’s blade loomed over Phaestus, Neraeos and Vastar intervened, trying to quell the relentless violence. But the Wanderer would not be stopped and turned His burning wrath against Them too. The Shield of Tides broke into fragments, unable to endure the onslaught of Divine Fire and clenched fist. The Skylord struggled and gasped for air as Khalas gripped Him by the throat. The God without a Realm was a force not even Sky and Sea could stand against alone.
In the midst of the losing battle, Aegis’ voice rang across the breadth of Creation. He called for retreat in an effort to forestall the deadly defeat looming over the three Divine, and Twilight aided His command. Sudden darkness enveloped the battlefield, plunging it into impenetrable obscurity. When the light returned, Phaestus’ broken body was gone, the Gods had fled, and Khalas stood alone, victorious but contemplative.
Pazuzu, Prince of Woe, emerged from the shadows, congratulating Khalas on His triumph. The Wanderer turned to the primordial Demon and asked him a single question:
“They spoke of something unfamiliar to Me. Bal’met? What is that?”
The Prince of Woe’s mouth curled upward, his face breaking into a malevolent, too-wide smile as the veil of Memory descended to shroud history in its depths.
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Summary: Khalas approached Phaestus upon the roads of Memory, pleading for Him to join Pazuzu’s cause. Phaestus refused and the two clashed in a titanic battle that left the Smith broken and on the verge of death. Neraeos and Vastar intervened but failed to do any harm to Khalas before they were forced to flee with Phaestus’ body in tow.
On the 24th of Chronos 923 AF the town of Caer Witrin was threatened by Yggdrasil’s corrupted brambles.
It began with the descent of the Infernal Legions onto the Prime Material Plane. Hungry for flesh and blood, the winged demons ran the gamut of the village as Sapience’s army rallied together and marched. Dragons took to the frontlines, staining their claws with black ichor as mages and warriors supported with a rain of fire, lightning, and arrows. With such a magnitude of force, the lesser footsoldiers of the Inferno were no match. Victory seemed all but assured until the heavens darkened and Regent Agmorin arrived.
With his Dreadblade hovering at his side, the Demon Prince cleaved through the armies of Sapience, rending them asunder to stain the snows of Caer Witrin crimson. Though droves of dragons and mortals fell before his Inferno-forged steel, the onslaught did not cease. Coordinate strikes forced Agmorin onto the defensive as he wove his blood magic into protective barriers and fleshy growths. But even that could not inhibit the soldiers of the Prime for long, and nearly a half-day later the lieutenant of Woe was forced to retreat.
Now unguarded, the corrupted brambles of the World Tree were no match for Achaea’s brood of dragons. White-hot dragonfire blazed bright enough to illuminate the shadowed heavens, burning briar and thorn to ash and then naught as the fell shadow looming over the mountain town faded.
Caer Witrin was saved.
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Summary: The mountain town of Caer Witrin was assaulted by the brambles of a corrupted Yggdrasil. Sapience rallied together and defeated Regent Agmorin, allowing them to burn away the brambles and save Caer Witrin from destruction.