All Timelines
Dimension: The Crossroads, Location: The Temple of the Dark Ohms
As Armenius arrived at the Temple of the Dark Ohms, he looked off at the shifting and warping realities that came into and out of focus around the structure. Here was the crossroads between dimensions, older than time, and empty currently save for the Temple. This temple so modern in a place so old had been built for him, even though he didn’t know it at the time. A place where he could tie himself, protected and safe for his spirit to live on and teach those who would come to listen, come to learn.
With his last of many beloved teams of resistance members, Armenius staggered into center of the temple and began the ritual that would tie him here. As he did so, his companions noticed the ghostly images of other versions of Armenius arriving here, some with different companions, some less willing, some more willing. Many with the shadow of General Tharr overseeing the ritual. But all the ghostly images coalesced as multiple realities converged on a single fated outcome.
Armenius died his final death.
Outside on the crossroads stood Azrael the All knowing, the fallen Falosini sovereign. Finally the ancient being sighed, sad that so loving and good a soul had suffered as much as Armenius. Azrael could not help but suppose that Armenius’ personal hell was a road paved by good intentions, both the Time Traveler’s and his own.
The Falosini Sovereign lifted his living scythe and cut a passage away from the crossroads and this dark temple, but before he left he spoke to the swirling realities, “A brave one gave his life today to save all your realities. His sacrifices will have repercussions across all known worlds. You all know he had the kernel that if nurtured could have blossomed into an ascended being.”
A being of pure light stepped from the shifting realities and coalesced as Ceroj the Red, most militant of the Falosini Sovereigns. His six wings were outstretched across the sky, and his red cloak billowed in the windless air.
“You claim to speak for Ascended Beings,” roared Ceroj, “Perhaps you had forgotten we have cast you out.”
“One cannot be cast out, Brother Ceroj,” replied Azrael’s hollow whisper, “I promised a future where the Quall N’drone would no longer be a threat to the Falosini or any other sentient being. This is but the lynchpin. It will hold my plans together.”
“I should cut you down, and hurl your blasted body upon the Fortress of Ti’ar Ma’at so your corrupted Uth and Pelebor know their time is soon over,” said Ceroj angrily.
“If you continue down this path of racism and hatred, Brother Ceroj, you will descend in both form and in spirit,” said Azrael in warning, “The Dragon of Unity and Kalok the Volcano threaten all timelines. They have upset the balance of power between the Ascended and Descended Beings.
The four prime Ancient Evils are imprisoned by the Warmonger, and the fiendish are running amok across time and space. And you waste the efforts of the Armies of the Falosini on tormenting my already suffering Uthvelor and Pelebor, driving them from all habitable lands, forcing them to subsist on raiding and pillaging just to survive. They did not desire their place on the outskirts. And if you ever relented then the other Sovereigns would see reason. Racism and hatred is not the way of the Ascended.”
Ceroj prepared to strike, but held his hand saying, “The Lion of Death disagrees and I tend to listen to his reason over yours, Fallen one.”
“I am fallen in name alone, my spirit is as ascended as yours once was Ceroj,” said Azrael with gravity, “But beware the Lion of Death, he is no ascended being…he is something else. Remember when he lived a mortal life, he was once a servant of the Accuser and his soul still bears its taint. He does not want peace, Brother Ceroj. He wants to see the Falosini armies tear itself apart. Remember his love is for only the humans. He cares not for the Falosini, or our children.”
And Azrael stepped away through the dimensional gateway he had cut, closing it behind him and leaving Ceroj outside alone. The Red Sovereign sheathed his weapon, and looked out upon the Temple of the Dark Ohms wondering why the Ascended Beings had not simply destroyed it. But he could not muster the intolerance to shatter its majestic walls.
Instead his mind was drawn back to the strange allegations made by the Fallen Sovereign. Ceroj wondered, Could the Lion of Death really just be a human agent of the Ancient Evils?
Main timeline, Year 2219 AR (after refuge)
Planet: Refuge, Location: The High Inquisitor’s office, Dunesphere Colony
High Inquisitor Dalrick Vensi perused the latest reports from the lingering war against the Goblins of the Goblin Lands. He hated how successful the Goblins propaganda war had been. The other Earther Colonies were sending food and medical supplies down to the Olgog Refugees.
Even the faithful Lord Grimaldus and his storied family had ripped the lands of Absalom and Hebron from the hands of his righteous servants. Dalrick lifted up an Unen Cigar, enjoying the simple tobacco and urya blend grown by the simple green furs down south. As it smoked away, Dalrick adjusted a small censer shaped amulet that hung around his wrist from a rosary. Its artificed nature began to purify the air around him, so none would know of his “terrible little habit”.
The cigar was one of the many little sins he allowed himself in view of the Cardinals to make them feel they had him by the balls. They would never know of the artifacts at his disposal, they could not be trusted with information that potent. But Dalrick had been High Inquisitor through the Apostasy of the Dragonsbane Patriarch, the Heresy of the Accuser, and rebuilt his position and his Inquisition despite the odds.
He knew the will of the colonies was malleable. And first he had to secure his own rogue elements before turning outward to ally with the Cardinals in declaring a full invasion of the Goblin Lands.
He flipped a page, and saw a map spill out and slide across the table. On it in bloody red was a set of markings. Dalrick flipped over the map and read the scrawled script of an Earther who remembered the ways of old Earth.
“Vensi,
Your Inquisitor Mortis Leonin is now posing a danger to my operations. I would ask you to pull back that mad dog. Did you know he has unlocked Technomancy and Annihilation? He is a threat and if I had my old resources a Wraith kill team would be pumping his corpse full of zela metal. He has proven surprisingly resourceful.
He beat one of my teams to the site of a crashed K’ias Ziggurat. It was carrying a vital cargo. A prototype portable time travel device called a Time Shredder. I believe that Mortis Leonin has stolen this device and plans to activate it.
I will be hiring some people, and you should hire some local talent as well. We need Mortis taken alive and that Time Shredder destroyed. Mark my words, you mad old Oner, no good comes from Time Travel.
Here are his expected coordinates. Do what you must, even if it means deploying some more radical assets.
The O V C”
Dalrick knew the penmanship of the Old Vlad. He had worked with the old Spymaster enough to know they both agreed passionately that Earthers should be supreme over other species. Which made the next piece of paper in the folder even more surprising. It was the ripped page from a journal.
On a simple scrawl of the Old VLAD it said, “Read this and try and explain how this is a good idea.”
And in a very different scrawl, that Dalrick recognized as hand of Mortis Leonin had written, “I simply know that I must be first to collect the Time Shredder. I understand its use better than any living person. If the Old VLAD gains it he will use it to reassert his dominance over the Earther Colonies. Unacceptable considering his alliances with the Krato and Uthvelor and other alien menaces.
My only choice then is to go back in time. To make sure that the humans maintain their dominance over all other species I must go back to the height of the Goblin Genocide. I must eliminate the Terror of Dunesphere before he sups from the Blood Cup. I must kill him before he undermines our government and causes our leadership to turn to infighting. I must kill him before he faces off against the Bishop Kasanth and Pope Cristos Dugari. Before he severs the hand of Kasanth and before he wounds the heart of Cristos. Before he thwarts the second rise of the true liberator Glomhammer, and before he leads the Earthers into the dark embrace of the Vampire Lord who rules them.
I will assassinate the Terror and any who are with him.
And then I will create a timeline where a triumphant Dunesphere will crush the Goblin uprisings and consolidate Brez, Karov and Port Unen into the jewel of the church of one. And I will be ready for the civil war when it strikes the colonies. And I will lead the Paladins of Dunesphere north and claim every inch of land from here to the Northern Kingdoms in the name of the Church of One and Humanity.”
Dalrick’s jaw went slack. Leonin had drank too much of the damn kool-aid, and literally believed the ignorance they were using to control the populace. Dalrick knew it happened often enough among the Paladins, but an Inquisitor was trained in the truth, and knew the whole Human centric elements of their faith had been granted by an alien seeking to use the humans against other aliens. He was supposed to be above this.
But Mortis had been going slowly mad since he visited the cursed ruins all those centuries ago, Dalrick supposed.
The High Inquisitor of Dunesphere lifted up a telephone and placed an encrypted call to his Inquisitors undercover in Absalom and Hebron. Within hours runners were moving across the Goblin Lands posting flyers for a job that involved some very interesting parameters.
