“It was in the end of 1212 that all of his machinations were finally being put into motion.  Thousands of years planning now hinged on waiting for an outside force to upset the balance of things.  Such patience is a powerfully destructive force; the longer he waited, the more powerful the Blood he sought would be.  The dead zones created by Xualla -- tiny pinpointed gateways holding the Abyss and the Material Plane together -- were the catalyst that he needed.  Xualla finally enacted his plan, tearing the fabric of the Planes apart, along with Eodra. That was Necrophitus’ moment to rise, and Valos knew that his hardest decision was upon him, evacuating Eodra.  He ordered the other gods to travel in whole to the Prime Material Plane, and when he knew that all where safe he too would follow. Valos knew what his leaving Eodra meant for the eidolich and he knew he would have little time left after the Sundering to prepare himself.  No one expected Xualla, but Necrophitus had capitalized on the moment.

To the corners of the world, Necrophitus sent his minions to scour for the God-King, or his whereabouts. On several occasions the other gods had made contact with various beings of the world, but Valos had remained unseen and unheard by all but a plain, troubled woman who despite her common roots and unextraordinary power, somehow could not be broken by the strongest of Necrophitus’s interrogators.  She died, and whatever secrets she held could not be forced from her, even in the afterlife; and so the only god he needed to find eluded his efforts, but patience was the eiodlich’s greatest power.

While his minions continued their search for the God-King, he started the steps necessary to finally have what he desired.  A ritual long in place siphoning the life of the Spring Fey, Mal’Nefahr, pulling in remnants of all the Chaos around the world so that he might kill and raise the living soul of Arawyn; a plan to raise the behemoths that once walked the surface using the most powerful wyrd stone; these were only some of his projects.

Now, 5 years later -- a fleeting moment to one who had waited so long -- Travance, aided by the forces of the universe who still fought for the betterment of Arawyn, set out to confront the eidolich within his own domain.  Necrophitus knew they were coming for him, but with them also came what he desired, and so he sat back and waited as he had for all this time…”

* * * * * * * * *

Over the borders of the wild shifting landscape, the landmass of Travance proper, the last bastion of hope against the eidolich, mystically levitated onward toward the looming citadel in the distance.  Below it, the ground lurched and heaved, as if a sentient force of its own; and lashed out high into the sky at the town. Cannoneers were ready on the edges of the mass, firing downward toward the hellscape that was trying to consume them.  Dozens worked tirelessly to fight back as they moved closer and closer to their target. It was not long before they reached a threshold. Suddenly the air all across the floating mass grew stagnant and filled the heroes hearts with despair. A soul crushing howl echoed out from the distance as a monstrous beast seemed to materialize before them on the surface of the wastes.  Could it reach them from here? If this creature was not beaten here, they would likely face a similar fate to that of the Kormyrian army, their mission ending in failure.

From the floating base, there were some who knew what this moment brought.  A Hobgoblin, sleek in his attire, mailed fist clenched with unwavering fury; an unnaturally large Dwarf, dressed in the most regal and indomitable armor, gripped his burning warhammers; and a woman, face scarred by ritual means, furs intermingling with the chains of her dress.  The war gods, Enax, Brazen, and Aguara, were prepared to face this foe, while the other god performed their part of the plan.

They descended down to the wastes with divine grace, and each unleashed a fury unseen by mortal eyes.  Aguara’s howling cries drowned out the beast, as chains ripped through its body. Enax and Brazen stood before the beast, now equal in size, and traded blow for blow.  Each swing it took at them appeared to rip right past their bodies and into their very essence. Still, they fought harder and harder, the three relentlessly unleashing barrages of power and force.  The battle raged on for what could have been assumed were days, and the gods were growing weary, but still never giving up. Luck had joined them when a swing of Brazen’s hammer stunned the Soul Devourer for a moment.  Quickly he dropped his hammers and latched onto its arms, while Enax followed suit and grappled its legs, seeming to pull the monster apart. Aguara let loose her razored chains and with a gnashing, violent display, the gods had ripped the lower half of the monster off.

It howled an unholy screech, deafening everyone observing.  The wastes began to shift before even the gods could react, and swallowed what remained of the Devourer.  This was their partial victory. The beast was beaten for now, and the path to the citadel was open. Travance would nestle itself before the gates of Doom itself, unmoving until their task was completed. It had to be, for the sake of all life across Arawyn who were so desperately fighting the hordes of undead swarming their homelands.

* * * * * * * * *

Over the last two decades heroes had risen from the ashes of their hardships in Travance. Over time, some of those heroes stayed while others returned to their homes or to other parts of the world, intent to share their power with those in great need. The seeds of Inspiration has been lain across the landscape from this and young adventurers and heroes now train all over the world. Otherwise common people have been inspired to be better, and to do better, and so now the world fights on in this moment to buy the Heroes of Travance the time they need to finish this task. The Heroes of Travance now advance on this moment, power in hand and ready to face Necrophitus head on!

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"Ok, here's the plan: I say we hit it until it falls down."

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