Word of Xeimos
"Good afternoon, traveler, and welcome to Skystead, the town beneath the heavens. Aberrations have disappeared from aboveground, so you’re quite the peculiarity.
Do I find you suspicious? Perhaps, but I haven't a thing worth taking. When you live to grow old, certain things lose value. You learn to live without them.
It’s alright if you must keep your identity a secret. You wish to hear a story?
. . .
I've got one. The climactic battle against Herod. I'm sure you must have heard of that at some point. You seem well-read, and to seek me out of all of Skystead’s people—you must know who I am.
The most troubling thing about Herod wasn’t his power, though certainly, it was great. Rather, it was the allies he’d managed to endear himself to. Common knowledge nowadays but unheard of in my time, Herod conspired with illithids and various other aberrations during his conquest of Unis. Aberrations—beings alien to the likes of Aohiri—it was believed they were a myth for ages, but some quality of Herod dragged them out. I believe I know what this quality was.
Herod was opportunistic, and that was a trait that managed to keep him out of arm’s reach at all times. It was this same trait that had made him our enemy. Fortuna Arcana’s problem, in the face of an enemy, is that we preferred to fight, win, and leave that enemy forgotten. Anyone who interrupted that pattern provoked us, impatient as we were. Herod seemed determined to test how long we were to deal with him, so we hated him.
His divinity, you ask? Of course, I know what it is. Have you heard of the term "Xeimos' Agreement?" It's a set of rules that influences combat. Anyone can invoke it at any time if they know the magic word and have my blessing. It's why I get visited so regularly, you know. The strangest—Oh, yes, the Agreement. One of the precepts of my agreement is that all parties involved must announce their divinity if it has been used at least once. This ensures the element of surprise is only sustained for as long as the combatant can keep their divinity hidden. Sounds powerful, doesn't it? But it works against my allies as well. I must be tactful. Anyhow, it was this agreement that earned me the name of Herod's divinity.
. . .
What? You're not interested? By Sarenrae's name—What do you mean I wouldn't let you get a word in!? I—Oh, yes, I do still have that problem. I've gotten better at speaking but worse at listening, I always told the King. Hm, then what of the time Gurgle ascended? It involves a grand battle between myself and Renyr before he was split in two.
Renyr has always been a source of conflict in Fortuna Arcana, more so than Iden could ever have been. For what he was, Renyr was a virtuous man, and I’d trust him with my life were it not for the unfortunate circumstances that split my adventuring group long ago.
He was perhaps one of the most unlikely members of Fortuna Arcana, and definitely the oldest and most experienced of us all. You might not believe me, but he was by far the most faithful if I did not retain that title during his recruitment. Like me, he worshipped Sarenrae, devotedly and honestly.
Goodness… I’m not sure how to feel speaking of her again.
I feel as though I have not been completely honest with you, visitor. Though I claim to be a Chosen of Sarenrae, and I am recognized as Sarenrae’s Chosen, she and I do not speak. This was the closest thing she could bestow upon me while keeping me out of godhood. Out of respect for Renyr, I refused ascension. At best, I have an extended lifespan and arcane expertise. Our relationship is strained nonetheless...
The act that drove him away was the day Fortuna Arcana was faced with the opportunity to extend their lives. A funny thing, wouldn’t you say, to outlive your peers? People speak of immortality, but their shortsightedness causes them to forget what they’ll do after they become immortal. In a world where we live many lives instead of one, what is the purpose of living forever? To have an extended legacy? There was such a wonder in immortality when I was young, but I suppose the thought of it only disgusts me now. Regardless, the younger me thought it would be fascinating to live longer. The two most enthusiastic were King Nordrilark—formerly Prince Nordrilark—and Renyr.
Renyr feared his own death and wished to experience youth again, and Prince Nordrilark wished for forgiveness from his father. From an unbiased perspective, both sides had merit, but both sides handled this situation poorly. Unfortunately, it was Renyr who was punished on behalf of Gwarvyn’s silent-yet-ferocious temper by none other than Sarenrae, aged to the point after a normal dragonborn would die. I’d never seen such a mixture of guilt and terror on Gwarvyn’s face before.
I’m not sure if Sarenrae realized it at the time, but she’d hit one of Gwarvyn’s weaknesses. He really is just a bleeding heart, even worse when he appears to be the cause of someone else’s suffering. So he forgave Renyr, yet it was ingenuine. Rather than letting the two solve matters amicably, Sarenrae interfered.
A part of me is perplexed at what could have become of this had she done nothing. Had Sarenrae done nothing, would the two have reconciled at all? I’m certain they’re both mature and have the capacity to resolve their problems, but it’s something to think about.
Yet, still, things did not end there. Renyr was given his former age back, but he continued to age. Then he was prevented from sleeping, and hatred had begun to sink in. Tiredness, irritation, confusion, and spite had separated him from Sarenrae. Ever since, Renyr has hated the gods and sought to rid the universe of them.
Even after Fortuna Arcana split apart—still now, even—Gwarvyn has always felt that Renyr was his responsibility. It’s not my place to say whether or not this perception is misguided, but it was as though something woke up in the grief that dwarf felt, and he devoted the rest of his life to steering Renyr back on the right path again. This same effort and sacrifice were extended to the rest of us as well.
I’m not sure if Gwarvyn thought everything was his fault or—actually, perhaps that was it, yes. The problem with Nordrilarks is that they have no room in their hearts for themselves. They’re easily manipulated, trampled upon, and forgotten. Gwarvyn is a haggard old man now. To those that don’t know him, rather pathetic-looking. Doughy and soft; he’s like bread, almost.
Forgive me, I promised a tale about Gurgle’s ascension, but Renyr’s story and its effects are crucial to understanding his motives, and I often find myself wondering if he’ll ever come to his senses again. Perhaps it’s unlikely. Perhaps Renyr will die consumed by hatred. Goodness.
…
I should visit him—them—soon."
"It was finally the twilight of the war. Segoma had torn Unis asunder, yet it looked like Fortuna Arcana would finally put an end to decades of conflict. A greater task awaited reality: the other planes needed to rebuild, perhaps more so. For now, all was at rest. The number of lives lost in Segoma’s wake was insurmountable, a number that could only be said by Vox, though even the Timeless One would likely estimate. The Tenth Arcana had suffered, but all appeared to be well. Around us were the scraps and remains of a fractured world. It was as though the universe, for a moment, had become glass-like. Around us was nothing but darkness, and we stood atop liquid—a black ichor—that didn’t dare reach past the soles of our shoes. We could see them—stars—that lit up this ichor and the darkness that dared to swallow us all. Perhaps Aevinu was watching. At the center of the destruction, in the quietness of chaos’ aftermath, was the wispy, unrefined spark of Segoma. Perhaps it glowed brighter than the stars, but I fail to recall. When devoured, one would ascend. When devoured, one would become a god. Renyr was the first to recover, and as I was the second least-damaged, I acted just as soon as he did. Through his injures, he made his way to that divine spark. Have you ever seen what a man looks like with murderous intent in their eyes? They scowl, they may bare their teeth—Renyr was calm, unnaturally composed after what Fortuna Arcana had endured. He didn't scowl, and it looked as though the injuries he'd sustained—aside from a limp—didn't affect him. It was unnerving. This was a murderer, a Faithless, Prostesans would say. I could not sit idle. "You're in my way. Make this easy for us both and step aside. This has nothing to do with you." “Just… what are you planning to do with Segoma’s divine spark?” He didn’t grace me with an answer. He didn’t even bother looking at me. His gaze was trained on the unholy light that threatened to burn at my neck if I stepped any closer. All eyes of Fortuna Arcana were on Renyr and me. He reached his hand past my shoulder, and without thinking, I grasped my mace and swung. Too wide, Renyr ducked his head and grasped my arm. Then, I could see the scowl. I could see the disgust he held for me in that final hour we shared. He tore the weapon out of my grasp and tossed it aside. I glanced over to Gwarvyn, who still held Gurgle’s limp body in his arms, and directed him towards the spark with my eyes. The dwarf was hesitant, but I didn’t have time to coax him near. Renyr had made up his mind, and I couldn’t reverse what I’d done. I… remember, vividly, what he said to me. They were the only words I could remember before all went fuzzy. “You really are just like her.” And I thought to myself, “How dare he?” I should have thought more. I don’t think I would have stepped aside, but I should have thought about it more. But, I acted without warning once again. There were only a scream and a burst of ice from my mouth. Only a blinding white could my allies see. I got one good hit on Renyr, but it was back to reality once he’d realized I struck at him. Neither of us had any strength for magic—my cantrips wouldn’t scratch him if I tried, and he couldn’t muster a spark. It was gritty, one slug after another. My mace and his hammer. At some point, blood had blinded us, and we tossed about in that ichor. My knuckles were bruised, and I swore I ripped a fang from Renyr that day. What stopped the fighting? I’m not sure, actually. I couldn’t tell you what caused Renyr and me to stop. Maybe our limbs ached so much that we couldn’t move anymore. Maybe we’d beaten the hatred out of each other and had nothing left remaining. Perhaps it was Gurgle. Perhaps upon seeing Gurgle, Renyr gave up. Gurgle ascended that day, after all, so I suppose it had to be because of Gurgle. Renyr’s voice was broken when he shouted at me one last time. I don’t remember what he said. I didn’t need to hear it to understand he hated me. He holds grudges, you know, so maybe his opinion of me hasn’t changed. My apologies for the grim tale and my tangents, but few things ended well that day. What else would you expect from someone like Segoma? Only her actions against Aohiri have been documented, but I surmise that she’s caused more chaos than we could imagine. Her ultimate goal was the control of all pantheons, to cause endless war to bolster her own divine energy. No other god has frightened the universe this terribly. That’s why they’re all cooperating now: they want to make sure a god like Segoma never happens ever again. But history has a funny way of repeating itself. I’m sure not all of her has been erased. No… a part of her influence remains out there, somewhere, within someone… If you see the King, inform him that the Festival of Lights is drawing near. His cousins are very hospitable, and I would love to see them again. And if you see Renyr—either half—tell him I’ll be seeing him soon. It’s time we spoke."
"There are times where I do have to question my faith. The greatest enemy of Fortuna Arcana is blindness, whether in faith or determination. Ignorance is bliss, but it's also incredibly damning. Do you know of Max? He was a tabaxi that accompanied us for a time. Funny, that one. The way he died is still a rough patch among my old comrades. They say that his soul was torn, stretched incredibly thin, and sifted across the planes. The magic required to restore him was something none of us had access to, so we gave up on trying. If you bring it up to either half of Renyr, they're still not over it. The reason I bring up Max is that his killer became something more than just an enemy after Max died. Like Renyr, I thought Gwarvyn would have sought vengeance. Instead, Gwarvyn just became more forthright in his hopes for Unis. If you know that dwarf like I do, you know that he deals with grief in funny ways. Something in that dwarf died when Max left. I'm not sure what it was, but something about him became looser, like undoing a lock. It was the realization that Max wasn't coming back. I think it just took him a moment to process it. But how does this tie into questioning faith? Well, the more I learn about this world and the gods that preside over it, the more I ponder the extent of their power. Divinities are capable of giving individuals cataclysmic levels of power. Smokey, an old friend of mine, had the ability to call upon versions of himself from different moments in time. He was effectively immortal for a good century or so following the disbandment of Fortuna Arcana. You look at the power mankind has and wonder what makes us different from gods. Is it our responsibility? Is it our morals? Our doctrine? Or, are we just more tangible? And what of the Divine Gate? What of that tool meant to keep us safe from the powers of the gods? After Herod and Renyr, we had to start wondering if it was real at all. Is it just that... If you become a follower, does the Gate not exist for you? . . . Blasphemy. Apologies, Eurikles, you must be exhausted listening to me. No, no, I'm fine.
"It was finally the twilight of the war. Segoma had torn Unis asunder, yet it looked like Fortuna Arcana would finally put an end to decades of conflict. A greater task awaited reality: the other planes needed to rebuild, perhaps more so. For now, all was at rest. The number of lives lost in Segoma’s wake was insurmountable, a number that could only be said by Vox, though even the Timeless One would likely estimate. The Tenth Arcana had suffered, but all appeared to be well. Around us were the scraps and remains of a fractured world. It was as though the universe, for a moment, had become glass-like. Around us was nothing but darkness, and we stood atop liquid—a black ichor—that didn’t dare reach past the soles of our shoes. We could see them—stars—that lit up this ichor and the darkness that dared to swallow us all. Perhaps Aevinu was watching. At the center of the destruction, in the quietness of chaos’ aftermath, was the wispy, unrefined spark of Segoma. Perhaps it glowed brighter than the stars, but I fail to recall. When devoured, one would ascend. When devoured, one would become a god. Renyr was the first to recover, and as I was the second least-damaged, I acted just as soon as he did. Through his injures, he made his way to that divine spark. Have you ever seen what a man looks like with murderous intent in their eyes? They scowl, they may bare their teeth—Renyr was calm, unnaturally composed after what Fortuna Arcana had endured. He didn't scowl, and it looked as though the injuries he'd sustained—aside from a limp—didn't affect him. It was unnerving. This was a murderer, a Faithless, Prostesans would say. I could not sit idle. "You're in my way. Make this easy for us both and step aside. This has nothing to do with you." “Just… what are you planning to do with Segoma’s divine spark?” He didn’t grace me with an answer. He didn’t even bother looking at me. His gaze was trained on the unholy light that threatened to burn at my neck if I stepped any closer. All eyes of Fortuna Arcana were on Renyr and me. He reached his hand past my shoulder, and without thinking, I grasped my mace and swung. Too wide, Renyr ducked his head and grasped my arm. Then, I could see the scowl. I could see the disgust he held for me in that final hour we shared. He tore the weapon out of my grasp and tossed it aside. I glanced over to Gwarvyn, who still held Gurgle’s limp body in his arms, and directed him towards the spark with my eyes. The dwarf was hesitant, but I didn’t have time to coax him near. Renyr had made up his mind, and I couldn’t reverse what I’d done. I… remember, vividly, what he said to me. They were the only words I could remember before all went fuzzy. “You really are just like her.” And I thought to myself, “How dare he?” I should have thought more. I don’t think I would have stepped aside, but I should have thought about it more. But, I acted without warning once again. There were only a scream and a burst of ice from my mouth. Only a blinding white could my allies see. I got one good hit on Renyr, but it was back to reality once he’d realized I struck at him. Neither of us had any strength for magic—my cantrips wouldn’t scratch him if I tried, and he couldn’t muster a spark. It was gritty, one slug after another. My mace and his hammer. At some point, blood had blinded us, and we tossed about in that ichor. My knuckles were bruised, and I swore I ripped a fang from Renyr that day. What stopped the fighting? I’m not sure, actually. I couldn’t tell you what caused Renyr and me to stop. Maybe our limbs ached so much that we couldn’t move anymore. Maybe we’d beaten the hatred out of each other and had nothing left remaining. Perhaps it was Gurgle. Perhaps upon seeing Gurgle, Renyr gave up. Gurgle ascended that day, after all, so I suppose it had to be because of Gurgle. Renyr’s voice was broken when he shouted at me one last time. I don’t remember what he said. I didn’t need to hear it to understand he hated me. He holds grudges, you know, so maybe his opinion of me hasn’t changed. My apologies for the grim tale and my tangents, but few things ended well that day. What else would you expect from someone like Segoma? Only her actions against Aohiri have been documented, but I surmise that she’s caused more chaos than we could imagine. Her ultimate goal was the control of all pantheons, to cause endless war to bolster her own divine energy. No other god has frightened the universe this terribly. That’s why they’re all cooperating now: they want to make sure a god like Segoma never happens ever again. But history has a funny way of repeating itself. I’m sure not all of her has been erased. No… a part of her influence remains out there, somewhere, within someone… If you see the King, inform him that the Festival of Lights is drawing near. His cousins are very hospitable, and I would love to see them again. And if you see Renyr—either half—tell him I’ll be seeing him soon. It’s time we spoke."
"There are times where I do have to question my faith. The greatest enemy of Fortuna Arcana is blindness, whether in faith or determination. Ignorance is bliss, but it's also incredibly damning. Do you know of Max? He was a tabaxi that accompanied us for a time. Funny, that one. The way he died is still a rough patch among my old comrades. They say that his soul was torn, stretched incredibly thin, and sifted across the planes. The magic required to restore him was something none of us had access to, so we gave up on trying. If you bring it up to either half of Renyr, they're still not over it. The reason I bring up Max is that his killer became something more than just an enemy after Max died. Like Renyr, I thought Gwarvyn would have sought vengeance. Instead, Gwarvyn just became more forthright in his hopes for Unis. If you know that dwarf like I do, you know that he deals with grief in funny ways. Something in that dwarf died when Max left. I'm not sure what it was, but something about him became looser, like undoing a lock. It was the realization that Max wasn't coming back. I think it just took him a moment to process it. But how does this tie into questioning faith? Well, the more I learn about this world and the gods that preside over it, the more I ponder the extent of their power. Divinities are capable of giving individuals cataclysmic levels of power. Smokey, an old friend of mine, had the ability to call upon versions of himself from different moments in time. He was effectively immortal for a good century or so following the disbandment of Fortuna Arcana. You look at the power mankind has and wonder what makes us different from gods. Is it our responsibility? Is it our morals? Our doctrine? Or, are we just more tangible? And what of the Divine Gate? What of that tool meant to keep us safe from the powers of the gods? After Herod and Renyr, we had to start wondering if it was real at all. Is it just that... If you become a follower, does the Gate not exist for you? . . . Blasphemy. Apologies, Eurikles, you must be exhausted listening to me. No, no, I'm fine.
After Segoma’s fall and Fortuna Arcana officially disbanded, Xeithar journeyed across Unis, delivering Sarenrae’s teachings to the lost and misguided. After decades of conflict, Unis would need time to heal, as relations were still tense. As a gesture of gratitude for Xeithar’s unwavering selflessness and devotion—Sarenrae’s will was his own—he became a Chosen, a vessel for a fraction of Sarenrae’s divine energy. He became Xeimos, the Dragon of Deliverance. Xeimos’ divinity gave him control over rules and restrictions, a power he has since retained despite the chaos he was left to endure. Truly, his greatest power was his perseverance. During the reconstruction of 5345 A.A., Xeimos stayed in a cottage in Skystead. They say the small town got its name from the plateau it sits upon; Skystead’s plateau helped it sit closer to the sky than any other town. When Skystead was rebuilt, Xeimos was there to assist in its reconstruction, and his hard work was rewarded with a town then characterized by its serenity. Ever since it’s restoration, Skystead has known peace under Xeimos’ watchful eye. The passages above are the spoken words of Xeimos, each to different individuals on Aohiri.
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