Dread Reaper, Kalas Malarious d'Murani, Singer of the Dirge echoes, "Under the honour statute, The Paladins guild is now beared to house thieves."

The aether ripples as the rapturous voice of Eventru, Crown of the Exalted booms, "It is amusing to hear an Avatar of a Traitor speak of things of honour and pacts."

You weave a glamour and mold it until it becomes a reflection of yourself.

You shout, "What Treachery is it to heal the dead of death and fight a war against the Soulless Gods? No, Eventru, You are the Traitor, for it is You who would rather every last Elder, every one of Your kin and kith, die than engage in Necromancy."

The aether ripples as the rapturous voice of Eventru, Crown of the Exalted booms, "We chose to face the Soulless, and to live and die as We were made - perfect, pure, clean. The Traitors chose not to live, but to die - and to continue the fight against the Soulless Gods, at the cost of their own purity, their own perfection, and the perfection, purity and lives of their friends and siblings. We chose life, even if that choice meant inevitable death. Fain chose death, an eternity of death and nothingness, He chose to become what He hunted. They did not heal the dead of death, they healed them, and themselves, of Life."

You shout, "To make war upon the Soulless Gods, fighting those who slew the our Divine Forebearers, is the only noble cause. Through the blood of the Great Enemy, we Mortals have survived and succeeded where the Elders failed. We Live to Serve. In Service we Die. In Death we are born again to Life."

The aether ripples as the rapturous voice of Eventru, Crown of the Exalted booms, "We shall not carry out a debate with one who does not know her own history. The soulless essence that laces the Taint was not present among mortals during the Vernal Wars, when the shards of Our kind fought against the Soulless - and imprisoned them."



You calmly step through a twisting archway of white gold and emerald vines, the shroud of golden light enveloping you. Your vision is filled with swirling ribbons and whorls of ivory and liquid light, while the whole of your being is drenched and enraptured in a salubrious warmth. Suddenly you emerge onto an island of golden sand midst an aquamarine sea, the rich, dawn-coloured sky looming overhead.
The Fulcrux of Eventru.
A large, bare-chested man fashioned of ivory and gold rests upon a marble throne here, His imperious gaze set out across the sands. A twisting archway of white gold wreathed in emerald vines rests at one end of the island, its surface shrouded with the same light as the sky.
You see a single exit leading through a twisting archway of white gold wreathed in emerald vines.

You perform a graceful curtsey.

You say, "Eventru? I tire of shouting. I would speak to You here."

A precise lance of scorching blue flame shoots across the heavens.
You have barely a fraction of a second to feel a dread foreboding before the lance of flame slams directly into your chest, filling your mind with white-hot pain and seeming to set every nerve in your body aflame. When you finally begin to breathe again, there is surprisingly no mark upon your form, but a weakness of mind and body remain to attest to Eventru's anger.



An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "You will address Us with proper respect."

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "And We have already said We are done discussing your revisionist history, since apparently you believe it was the touch of the Soulless that won the Vernal Wars."

You say, "Lord Eventru, Crown of the Exalted I ask that you consider Lord Urlach, the son of tainted Orlachmar who rallied the dead against the Soulless, and the Illithoid, who Magnagora has turned from Soulless foe to steadfast ally. I ask that You consider the hope of Reascension, the hope that the children of the Divine might one day be free of the Soulless and become Divine once more, instead of remaining fragile and pitifully mortal."

You say, "The Taint need not be Your enemy. Loath it if You will, Lord, but do note fight against us untill the Soulless are dead. Illith has been slain, the others can follow if the Light is reunited."


An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "No mortal shall ever again touch the Immanidivinus. Our Son, Ilyarin, saw to this - a most wise course of action. Mortals are careless, impotent things - you do not deserve the Immanidivinus, something that is the birth right of the Elder Gods. And Illith has not been slain, she slumbers still beneath the sea, a slumber We shall ensure remains eternal."

A gentle rolling of waves laps at the sand's edge.

You say, "It is our birthright as well. We are the children and heirs of the Divine. Mortal deeds are as noble and just as the Elders."

A soft breeze stirs the nearby sand, leaving gentle arcs in its wake.

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "Your birthright was that which We were denied - the ability to procreate. Ours is the Immanidivinus - something the Traitors abandoned and forsook when They betrayed Their own people, and began consuming Them."

You give a pained sigh.

You say, "Lord Eventru, it does not suit you to envy your nieces and nephews, nor to hoard the Immanidivinus away like a miser hoards gold."

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "We do not envy you. We recognize it was not Our place to procreate, and accept this. We in turn tended the half-formed, who became like children of Our own. The Immanidivinus is not a thing to hoard, it is something to protect and ensure remains pure. It is untouched by the poisons of the Soulless, a task We intend to ensure. Mortals are fickle, childish creatures, and will ensure such power does not fall into your hands."

You say, "Kethuru is chipping away at the Nine Seals. Every time He breaks lose, it is sooner and sooner. They will not hold forever. What will You do, my Lord, when Kethuru breaks free and there are no Vernal Gods to remake the seals or drive Him away? Will You flee for the Void again, into a cold, eternal loneliness? Will You never see the First World again? Will You, my Lord, leave all of Mortality to die at the hands of the Soulless Gods?"

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "We will do as We originally planned, until the Traitors turned against Our own kind - We plan to fight. And We will see the Seals restored, as they have been by Viynain - without allowing the restorer access to the Immanidivinus. Thankfully, the Threshold Abyss will ensure this - though We would do what We could to stop it, were it not there."

You say, "He breaks free every few years now. Once the Seals held for centuries. They are crumbling and the Ascension Trials are not enough to save them. New Vernal Gods must rise, if not by the Immanidivinus, than by the Other method."

You say, "Would You not rather see a united Light and the Soulless held back by Divine raised through the Immadnidivinus than mortals Ascending using the dark forces of the Excoroperditio, Lord Eventru?"

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "The Seals are only a few centuries old, little one. The essence of the Soulless will never be able to ascend someone to Godhood - it will simply consume them. Only the Immanidivinus may do so, for it is pure and clean - and in time, those born of the Immanidivinus, who labour beneath the forces of the Excoroperditio, will find themselves consumed. It is inevitable. Fain died not long after He consumed the essence of the Soulless - that shade is a Soulless God, through and through."

You say, "Even if we are consumed, it is better to die fighting the Soulless and securing a future for my fellow mortals than to die cowering and allow Kethuru to devour the last remaining souls in Creation."

The sounds of waves entice your ears, drawing your senses on a salty journey.

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "If We Ourselves must use Our own essence to strengthen the Seals, then so be it. Isune has done it before, but it was you mortals who sought to drag Her essence from it. You make the same argument the Traitors made - it did not work then, and it would not work now."

You say, "What shall happen when the last of the Elders offer Themselves? I beg, if Your Lordship will not aid us in our long fight, at least be a peace with us and allow us to prepare for our last battle."

You say, "Allow us our hope for some future salvation."

The sounds of waves entice your ears, drawing your senses on a salty journey.

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "You forget the Seals held strong until you mortals tampered with them - you manipulated poor Viravain into using the Seal of Nature to destroy the Glomdoring and remake the Gloriana. You broke the seals to free Kethuru, in hope of fighting off some serpentine creature under Illith's control. You would do so again, as well. Mortals are the cause of the Seal's weakening. Yet still you wish to use them, for your own means - Godhood."

You say, "We are desperate. We wish dearly that the Soulless be defeated and that the souls Created by Dynara survive. We could not allow Illith to devour those souls, our souls. We could not lie down and die without a fight and some hope of rescue."

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "Yet by supporting and propagating the Taint, you encourage that same death of the soul."

You say, "It is better that we die so that others live, than to allow all to die without a struggle."

The surface of a twisting archway of white gold and emerald vines ripples and flares, the golden veil parting only to allow Zalandrus to emerge in a rain of ivory ribbons and whorls.
With a harsh cry, a young eagle soars in majestically on air currents from the ether.

You say, "If but two mortals could survive the war on the Soulless and live to see a time when their souls are not endangered, I would gladly die."

With a flourish of his arm, Zalandrus bows deeply.
You curtsey respectfully before Zalandrus.

Zalandrus Tregon says, "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

An ivory sculpture of Eventru says, "You say it now, little creature, as your masters said it then. Go on, Iytha - We have little more to discuss with you."

You perform a graceful curtsey.

You say, "Farewell, Lord Eventru. May we be at peace."

You calmly step through a twisting archway of white gold and emerald vines, the shroud of golden light enveloping you. Your vision is filled with swirling ribbons and whorls of ivory and liquid light, while the whole of your being is drenched and enraptured in a salubrious warmth. Suddenly you emerge into a vast chamber of stone veined with precious ores and cloaked with golden sand.
A chamber of golden sand and warm light.
This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. A twisting archway of white gold stands proudly here, wreathed in emerald vines.
You see exits leading north, east, south, and through a twisting archway of white gold and emerald vines.