PS: I talked a little too big. This chapter took me several hours to write. All I can say is, dear readers, enjoy this first. I'll make up the extra updates later.
Ysgard, the Moon Gate, the Divine Realm of Selûne, the Lady of Silver, beside a garden pond between two Sacred White Trees.
Elegant and dignified, gentle and poised, radiating maternal warmth, Selûne sat sipping tea beneath the moon. When she heard Cyric's declaration of war, she could not help frowning.
What madness had gotten into Cyric? Declaring war on every realm, plane, pantheon, and multiverse?
Yes, you're the foremost god beneath the Overgod Ao, but you're still only a god of Realmspace. You consolidated the portfolios of the Dead Three and became the Three-Crowned King, but your infamy is known from Kara-Tur to Maztica. Even at the pinnacle of greater deities, can you compare with Corellon, father of the elves, or Moradin, father of the dwarves?
If the Overgod Ao didn't favor you so much...
Thinking of Cyric's enduring hostility toward Aaron made Selûne grit her teeth in hatred.
Perhaps I could bring a few pantheons together...
Within a dark, deep, desolate tomb, Jergal, the Chanter of Death and Recorder of the World's End, awoke. He climbed out of his crypt and sighed softly.
Can't an old man get some proper sleep?
Within his Divine Realm, Jergal took the form of a mummy, his face and body tightly wrapped in bandages. He glanced at the statue of his former self, the Ancient God of Death, and shook his head slightly.
Cyric was not a competent god of the dead. Not only could he not grant the dead repose, his madness had begun to undermine the stability of the Underworld.
It was time to find another suitable god of