Part IV--A Ray of Light
Otho, Chaplain-General of the Homestead Forces, rose from his morning devotions with frantic haste, his usually serene face now grim and ashen. Brushing aside his subordinates' anxious inquiries he strode across the center courtyard of Ringed-Rock Hold toward the Cathedral, and into the office of Arpad Traganth, First General and foremost among the High Command.
Without preamble the cleric began, "Ar, the Nameless One has returned to Haven."
Traganth turned to his Chaplain. "What in the name of the Gods are you talking about, Otho?"
Otho continued, barely acknowledging his superior's interrogation. "You don't fully understand. Yet. Only Tollossus himself can stop him now--and only if he too can be summoned, just as the Nameless One was. His priests must gather here at once. Mobilize the Mage Corps. We have no time to waste."
Traganth sighed, then frowned. "Zoro isn't going to appreciate--" he began, speaking of the army's Mage-General.
"It doesn't matter what Zoro appreciates, First General Traganth," Otho interrupted uncharacteristically, speaking with increasing emphasis and agitation. "We are talking about nothing less significant than the end...of...the...world." Looking suddenly old, Otho licked his dry lips, but said nothing more...
The Bishopric of Tollossus had responded instantly to the appeal. Within an hour they had gathered not only from within the confines of Homestead territory but from throughout the world, teleported to Ringed Rock Hold by the mages of the Homestead Army. The most powerful and devout of the faith stood patiently, frightened--undeniably--but resolute. Latecomers were still arriving when Otho stepped up onto an improvised dais in the middle of the parade grounds. He cleared his throat, and the crowd was instantly hushed, utterly attentive.
"For those of you who do not know me, I am Otho, Chaplain-General of the Homestead Forces, and of the Ninth Circle of the High Priests of Tollossus. For those of you who do not know why you are here, I regret to inform you that today, of all days we have known, is Judgement Day." Otho paused momentarily to let his words sink in. "Some of you may have also seen the vision, as I have. But for those who did not, I will explain briefly. I saw the Forges of Malevolence, the Citadel of the Evil One. There he had summoned his Dark Priests. Three circles, six plus six plus six, cast Spirit of Power. That is the Ultimate Sacrifice, that is the key, unlocking Haven to the predations of the Nameless One. For as I watched, these priests were slain by their own God and their essences used to form the living body of the Nameless One reborn! He now walks among us! His tread defiles the face of Haven. He has taken into himself three of the Artefacts of Power, and he seeks the three remaining ones. We have no time to waste. Only Tollossus himself can stop him at this point, and only we can summon our blessed Lord to Haven--just as the Nameless One was summoned. Otho bowed his head and began to pray, "Beloved Lord Tollossus, our Hope and our Salvation, please harken to your children in this hour of anguish, and receive unto yourself the souls of your disciples..." As Otho prayed, the air beside him began to shimmer and sparkle, like heat waves in the desert, and suddenly a Presence was there among them. Eerie music, faint yet piercing as elven flutes, began to play.
Venerable in his wisdom, yet childlike in his trust, Otho walked without hesitation into the glowing mist. His body flared and distorted, then was assimilated. The mist began to solidify. In Otho's footsteps followed Archbishop Grayhem, Abbot of St. Andrew's Monastery, eyes fixed on the light and a confident smile on his lips. Others followed quick as thought, human, elven, dwarven, united within the ever-growing circle of light. Eighteen entered into the mist and were absorbed before it became an impenetrable sphere. It spun and flared, scintillating with every colour, too brilliant for mortal eyes to stand. A musical thrumming filled the Hold, setting the rocks to trembling and tumbling, and brave, hardened veterans fell to their knees stricken with awe. When at last the tumult diminished the mighty god of Good, Tollossus, a giant of astounding and resplendent beauty, his radiance outshining the very sun, stood there for a moment with his head bowed and tears coursing down his cheeks. The crowd watching him was utterly silent, but every eye was riveted upon him. At last he spoke in a voice of overwhelming sorrow, "My children, you live within me as I live within you. Your sacrifice will not be in vain." His brow furrowed with implacable determination as he turned and, faster than sound, raced to meet his ancient foe.