Pathtender's Soul (Clorinthus' Memory)

Chlorinthus cleaved his way across the battlefield with his sacred axe, Lotus Scripture. It was the last gift of Caligra, who had been swallowed whole by the priestess Jamine during their fateful meeting and merged with the essence of two others to become The Miasma of the Three Stars. After, this weapon was birthed by the Miasma, the fruit of Caligra's unbreakable will. Still-twitching chunks of undead litter the blighted wasteland in Chlorinthus' wake.

Warriors of all stripes fought at Chlorinthus' side here at the final battle of a century-long war. Gnome barbarians, shapeshifters of the firbolg tribe, elves led by the noble Lolth, and even radiant primordians who had taken the form of elementals thanks to a recent blessing from Primordius, all fought as one against the innumerable undead infesting this final blighted stronghold. All would be rewarded for their bravery and sacrifice, but only once the loathsome priestess of Tempura had been brought to justice.

Fixed ominously above the horizon, within the raging violet storm, shone three brilliant white lights. "Caligra," Chlorinthus muttered to himself, "I'm almost there."

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Later, in the Sanctum of Blasphemy, Chlorinthus looked up at the three stars floating above. At this distance their subtle hues were visible, and the sensation of the blinding blue light of Caligra's immortal essence on his skin felt like a warm embrace. Chlorinthus closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of peace before returning his gaze to the wretch who laid before him, defeated and shamed.

Jamine had long cast off her original flesh, choosing instead to don the mantle of a [MEMORY INCOMPLETE], with three eyes centered amongst numerous others, purposefully evoking the image of the Ouroboros. The threads that she had used to puppeteer the Miasma were severed by Lotus Scripture, and now the two demigods were all alone.

"In the name of all lives thine hast consumed for thy lustful ambitions, I now send thee to face judgement before the gods." Chlorinthus proclaimed as he lifted his axe.

"No." Jamine said, sensing a tinge of doubt. "You don't want that. You know that wherever you send me, I'll take her, too. If you surrender my soul to the gods, the stars will be extinguished, and you'll never see her again."

Chlorinthus hesitated. The resentment that had been building since he first heard of Caligra's demise demanded blood, but his love for her cried out from a place even deeper. He lowered his axe and spat on the lifeless dust at his feet.

"I'll lend ear to your bleating, lecherous cur. May thy fetid tongue be swift, lest my passions overtake me."

Jamine's face curled into what could generously be described as a smile. "It's simple. I relinquish her essence unto you, and in return," [MEMORY MISSING]

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Lolth was the first to arrive after the deed was done. She entered the sanctum to see Chlorinthus standing over the broken flesh of the monstrous architect of the Miasma, holding the Star of Caligra in his hands, now greatly diminished.

He turned to her, his face wet with tears. "It's done. Now begins the work of rebuilding. Alert thy druids to reincarnate the honored dead who wishest it. Their reward is overdue."

"You seem distraught." Lolth said, flatly. "You do not possess the visage of victory."

Chlorinthus breathed a shuddering sigh. "Indeed, victory rings hollow. Mine fears hath been made manifest. The Miasma hast taken too much from her. She cannot return, not as she was. Thy world may be saved, but mine liest shattered before me."

Lolth strode confidently up to the archfey and reached up to place a hand on his cheek; a familiar gesture that evoked tears anew. "Chlorinthus, my liege. You have given so much to my people, and to me. Allow us to lend our aid in return. Together, I've no doubt we'll find a way to revive her, no matter the cost."

Chlorinthus took Lolth's hand in his own, looked down at the struggling remains of Caligra's essence in his other hand, and accepted the second ill-fated bargain of the day.