With the end of this divine war in the Lower Plane, the Material Plane officially entered the Age of Saints.
Just as the gods, forced by the sudden changes in the rules governing Divine Power and faith, began gathering believers across the Material Plane to soothe hearts and minds, alter the ways faith was spread, and thereby stabilize both their faith and their own strength, the Dead Three—fresh from catastrophe—also quietly descended upon the Material Plane.
Zhentil Keep.
Deep within this city on the western shore of the Moonsea, north of Cormanthor—a city ringed by towering black walls and long branded the Northlands' festering tumor, a haven for evil, a breeding ground for conspiracies, dark cults, and all things vile.
Bane, the God of Strife, the only one to escape disaster by running fast enough, manifested upon the throne behind a curtain embroidered with a black iron fist.
"Welcome the descent of our god! May all be well, my god!"
The strife worshippers led by the lich Aijiasun immediately fell to their knees in a circle.
Looking over his 'devout' followers, Bane let out a long breath.
Whether it was the gods being cast down into the mortal world, the alteration of faith's rules, or the disastrous defeat when the bone fortress in the Lower Plane was attacked, every one of them had caught them utterly off guard.
Yet he considered himself different from those two fools, Milko and Baal. Bane truly reveled in the tyranny of his divine portfolio and in weaving conspiracies that stirred up strife.
Thus, with the vast number of devout believers he still had hidden across the Material Plane, so long as he lent them the power to take revenge or fulfill their ambitions, he would never fall into an even more miserable state.
With