Pelor

That brigand did well to replace Alhandra’s holy medallion. I’m surprised he did knowing his penchant for trinkets. That boy priest looks to have talked sense in to him.

Where have I seen this Lady worshiper before?

“You said you wanted the box, not what was in it.” He said as he handed it over. What a clever boy. I usually don’t allow such acts of insolence to my faithful, but this band of the Divine Brotherhood throw my name around like a cheap parlor trick.

Just a few hours earlier those idiots fleeced some bigger idiot Rudainians. The reversal pleased me. This boy priest has won my blessing.

It’s not often my eye lingers on the material plane, but to see Alhandra, my faithful servant, picked apart by that abomination of an abomination. Such a forsaken place devoid of any true light, mired in darkness.

How did these survive when my champion had fallen?

“Hello there!” the brigand greets a dead elf. It’s amazing to me these fools got the door open but they did. I can’t imagine how their puny brains can comprehend the portals they uncovered.

I open my mind and can be anywhere. I can see each of them born, dead, reborn. I can jump to any point in their story, or any place.

But for them to be able to step through a doorway and be thousands of miles away. Oh it’s such a joy to see their smug faces smacked with a bit of the impossible.

They made short work of the Owlbear that fell Alhandra. Although they could have avoided it entirely if the Weaver hadn’t been going on about his eyes, or lack thereof. Seemed an odd moment for story time, but I don’t pretend to understand humans.

Them seem to have no fear of the dark abomination that floods the sanctuary. I can’t even gaze at it without feeling sick. It’s the complete absence of light, everything I stand for, everting I am for this world.

In the same way my light brings justice to everything it touches, this darkness brings corruption.

The darwf reduced to a skelton surrounded by a gelatinous mass of pure nothingness. They fought that with such abandon. How lucky they are they do not know the evil that fuels these foul beasts.

The brigand has done well. There will come a time when he will call on me and I will answer.

The Lady may bring luck, but I bring the light.

I’m currently playing through a campaign DM’d by the indomitable Erik Maxwell. As a writing exercise I’m giving myself 30 minutes to recap our weekly adventures.