Deva Invoker


Gaebriel stands a little over two spans (6’2”) and weighs a little under two stones (190 lbs). His body appears similar in structure and composition to a human, though taller than most. Unlike humans, however, he has a grace and stillness about him. Where humans are restless, shuffling back and forth, touching and investigating things, Gaebriel is still, silently and thoughtfully considering all he sees.

Though of good height for a Deva, he appears slight but not frail, his muscles and tendons standing out like taut ropes. All over his body there are scars and burns, reminders of battles fought and won. These wounds aren’t born with shame and pride but are embraced and forgotten, part of Gaebriel and now beneath his notice.

Gaebriel’s skin is purple and dark grey, elegant transitions from one shade to the other all over his body. On his chest, shoulders, and upper back are swirling patterns of light grey. On his cheekbones and chin are sharp streaks of bright white, standing out against the purple and dark grey, clearly marking him as different than a normal man. His body is hairless.

Standing before Rellos, ten days or ages ago, Gaebriel’s hair was bright white and pulled into two intricate braids, falling to his lower back. Now, standing up in the oppressive heat of the waystation, his head is completely bald. Gaebriel’s eyes were light grey and luminescent. When channeling the power of the gods, they shine a radiant and bright white.p.


Homework #1 – Description (above)

Homework #2 – Social Interaction

How do others perceive you in social interactions?

Others most often perceive Gaebriel as reserved and quiet. As with most Deva, his body is still during conversation and interaction, his awareness betrayed only by his intense stare and slight head movements so he can take in his environment. Though he often comes across as unapproachable, he is willing to interact and converse with any type of person and will show a particular interest if the other person is able to help him learn something new.

Since ‘awakening’ in the waystation, the group has noticed that Gaebriel’s awareness is heightened and stare even more intense, exuding a highly tense air about his person. Also, his former stillness is gone; though not as hectic and exaggerated in his movements as the other races, his body is not always still and he can occasionally be heard muttering to himself.

How optimistic are you?

Gaebriel was confident and self-assured regarding the events of the future. Due to his lineage, he accepted the future not as good or bad but simply something that will come to pass. The memories of a thousand lifetimes, both wonderful and horrible, have dulled him to extreme swings of emotion when thinking about the future. He will experience hope and despair as anyone else, though it affects him less and for a shorter period of time.

In the present, Gaebriel has to be on the move, to be elsewhere, to seek new things. He lacks his normal serenity. His confidence is low as he realizes his former great power has been reduced to a small trickle. Perhaps this has led to his uncharacteristic muttering.

How trusting are you?

Gaebriel has often been open-minded, seeking new ideas, thoughts, and practices for improvements to his own. However, he is not known to accept almost anything without proof and confirming as much as possible on his own. Through many years and journeys, he trusts the rest of the party with his life, one of the few intangibles he has put his full faith behind.

In the limited interaction in the small village along the Goldrun river, the group noticed that Gaebriel seemed particularly skeptical. His body language was closed off – arms crossed, hood pulled up to conceal his face, maintaining as much distance as possible without being threatening – and he stared at Gristol, seeking to reveal any sort of deception that might be behind the dwarf’s words so as not to be caught unaware.

Homework #3Staff of Asha

Homework #4 – First Kill

Running down the dirt road of the village, the flames and smoke choked the young Gaebriel. His fear and grief threatened to overwhelm him. Only his basic need to survive kept him running, blindly turning corners in the haze. The Elders had left the village and would be days away by now, retreating to a newly constructed Library of Marach, seeking guidance from the heavens. They would be no help and, now that his family was dead, Gaebriel wasn’t sure that anything could help him. Seeing the smithy up ahead, he turned the corner…

...and emerged on a quiet, cobble stone road. It was eerily quiet. The goblin was gone but he could still smell the burned flesh where the power of Ioun had seared the monster. Gaebriel had only just discovered his powers, being taught within the temple. Ploetzlich, the goblin jumped out from a doorway up ahead, throwing a wicked-looking dagger end over end. The young invoker roared and flung holy light at the goblin even as the dagger struck his shoulder. The goblin shrieked as Gaebriel spun back into an alley,...

...the blood flowing from his new wound. He looked carefully around the corner, the tears leaving streaks down his soot stained face. Fleeing blindly, he ran into and through a band of kobolds. They had hacked and slashed with curved blades, one burying deep in his shoulder. Stumbling and falling, Gaebriel turned and, with a shout, spit a white-hot blue fire, scorching the kobolds and knocking them back. Standing, he could barely see the kobolds through the smoke, running away from him. He followed, running into the smoke….

...Stepping out of the alley, Gaebriel saw the goblin. The little green monster whimpered and made gurgling sounds, barely clinging to life, writhing in pain on the paving stones. Approaching slowly, Gaebriel stood over it….

...This time the fire shot from his hands, knocking the kobold to the ground. Still jogging to catch up, he was beside the kobold before he noticed it was alive. Stopping, he knelt by the kobold, looking at the burns and blood flowing from the green, reptile-like head that his blue fire had caused. Standing,...

...Gaebriel reached deep, feeling the spark of that power and drawing it up from his soul and forcing it into his hands. Holding his hands before him, he saw them wreathed in blue flame, both familiar and completely foreign. The last sound, a pathetic whimper, passed the lips at the same time the blue fire seared the flesh and bone, silencing the creature forever.

Homework #5 – Player Choice

[Setting: Night after liberating Rosey’s stash from his vault in Torun]

Waking from his sleep, Gaebriel saw no one. A thick mist covered the ground, roiling, spinning, flowing, anywhere from knee height to as high as his waist. Looking around, he saw none of his friends. He jogged quickly between the buildings of Torun as they were now – run down and uncared for – but he knew they were gone. Stopping to gather himself and catch his breath, he ran a hand over his sweat-covered bald head. Every direction was dark and Gaebriel could barely see more than a few feet. Every direction except one. Calming his nerves, he started down the street, going in the only direction he could see.


Gaebriel wasn’t sure whether he was walking slowly out of fear, anticipation, or simple fatigue. But it seemed days later that he stood before Torun’s Library of Marach. The whole journey across the city had been dead silent; Gaebriel was certain he was the only person in the city. He didn’t know what he would find inside. Everyone seemed to be gone, vanished while he slept. The think mist seemed to flow into the library from every direction. Gaebriel approached the main door and it swung open silently before his trembling hand could even make contact. He stepped inside and it was dimly lit. Reaching for a sunrod in his pack was the first time he noticed he didn’t have anything – he wore only his robes and carried this new staff. This implement served him well but, at the same time, he knew it was merely a child’s toy compared to the power he had harnessed in his past life. Much like the city, only one direction was lit and set off down the least dark hallway.


Gaebriel had no idea how much time had passed. It seemed like days or weeks but he wasn’t tired or hungry or thirsty. He just kept walking, taking steps in the direction of the soft, ambient glow without a source. Lost in his own thoughts about how long it had been, he nearly walked into the huge double doors. They were ancient, he could tell that much. Carved from some unrecognizable material that looked like bone, he noticed there were no visible hinges and barely even a seam down the center where the two doors came together. They were familiar and foreign. Reaching out his hand, the doors didn’t open on their own this time. Making contact with the door, a blast of energy rocked Gaebriel back, knocking him to his knees. Gasping for air and groaning as the room spun, he noticed the doors were slowly opening. They looked different now. They were brighter white and seemed newer, fresher, healthier. Shaking his head to try to clear his still blurry vision, he walked through the doors.

The room beyond the doors was plain with simple stone walls, ceiling, and floor. The soft light bathed the room and illuminated a waist-high stone circular dais, four feet in diameter. A dust-covered tome rested on the dais. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in centuries. The room itself was covered in dust, inches thick, with no footsteps or markings of any kind to indicate anyone had been here in a very long time. Flexing his hand that had touched the door, Gaebriel felt himself pulled forward toward the tome. With each step, pain shot through Gaebriel’s head like bolts of lightning; his body shivered as if he were exposed to bitter winter and broke out into full-body sweats as if he baked in the harshest deserts; he heard voices whispering, swirling all around his head, but he was in too much pain to make out what they were saying. The room spun and he couldn’t keep his feet. Gaebriel fell to his knees crawling to the dais, using his staff to pull himself along.

Gaebriel extended his hand, trying to continue to crawl, when it bumped into the base of the dais. Everything stopped. The room was silent, his body, though still in pain, was no longer continually wracked with spasms and heat and cold. He kept his hand in contact with the stone and pulled himself upright using his staff. Gaebriel leaned against the dais, closing his eyes tightly and breathing slowly. Opening his eyes, his vision was slightly blurred but seemed to be getting back to normal. Carefully touching the edge of the cover, he slowly opened the book.

The page was blank. The paper was the same color as the doors to the chamber: pale white, similar to bone. Opening the tome all the way, Gaebriel stood before it. Nothing happened. Exhaling slowly, he reached his hand out and laid it on the page. Again a blast of energy made Gaebriel double over. He quickly removed his hand and stared at the page. There were faint images. They could be letters. Reaching out again, he touched the page. Pain coursed through Gaebriel’s body and he fell to his knees but he kept his hand on the page. The voices whispered again all around Gaebriel and his head exploded in a sharp pain, making him moan and heave. His hand stayed on the book and, if he could concentrate on anything, Gaebriel would have noticed the light in the room fading to nothing as a blue glow enveloped the book. The light emanating from the book grew brighter and brighter as Gaebriel kept his hand on the page. Eventually, he could stand it no longer and his hand left the book as he fell over on his side.

Minutes passed where all Gaebriel could do was inhale and exhale raggedly. Summoning the last of his energy, he pulled himself upright, leaning his whole body against his staff just to remain standing. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly against the radiant blue light shining from the book, he gathered himself. Opening his eyes a slit, he looked at the page. There were words, handwritten in a precise hand. Without knowing how he knew, Gaebriel was sure this was the handwriting of Marach. Opening his eyes wider and disregarding the pain of the bright light penetrating his brain like mindbullets, he read as fast as he could.

Gaebriel leaned over the book, reading as fast as he could, flipping pages over and over to absorb the secrets he was sure the writing must contain. His strength was failing and his body started to sag. With the last of his energy, he flipped the page one more time and found what he was looking for. A ragged moan, part relief and part triumph, passed Gaebriel’s lips as he collapsed. He maintained consciousness for bare seconds and noticed the blue light dimming. The room was completely dark as Gaebriel tried to understand everything he had experienced. He drifted off into blackness.

Homework #6 – Player Choice

Gaebriel walked boldly up the stairs of the tower, his sense finely tuned and the divine grace flowing through him. He remembered much of his past lives and of this he was certain: he had never been so powerful. Ioun surely smiled on him this lifetime and Gaebriel had no plans to let him down. Zek was the greatest threat existence had seen and if Gaebriel could hinder Zek’s forces by destroying the disgusting creature awaiting him, he would do everything in his power to accomplish that.

Having left his companions at the base of the tower, Gaebriel ventured up. They were also powerful and could handle the throng of the living that attacked in endless waves. Inside the tower, though, was for Gaebriel. His divine power made short work of the undead he had encountered so far: skeletons disintegrating to dust with a word, ghosts banished to the outer realms with a glance, and zombies burning fiercely for seconds before being reduced to cinders.

The Staff of Asha knocked softly with each step Gabriel took. There was nothing left to slow him as he approached the top level. He assumed it had once been the laboratory, a place of wonder and magic. Before Zek had corrupted the wizard and turned him into a sniveling puppet performing unnatural ceremonies and disrupting the natural order of things. His feet landed on the top ledge and he pushed the rotten wooden door open slowly.

Pale moonlight entered through the windows and cracks in the structure. Muttering a word, blue light enveloped the room and illuminated every corner. Gaebriel saw the hunched form just as the lich attacked, hurling bolts of black energy. It was almost laughable. Gaebriel swung his staff up and activated the circlet around his head with a thought, deflecting the energy as his own holy power erupted, blasting the creature back and slamming it into a wall. The lich would not be deterred and spoke quickly, summoning demons and spirits to attack the invoker.

Each fell before Gaebriel’s divine fury but it was accomplishing the lich’s goal. He was slowly circling the room, making his way for the door, as Gaebriel fought off each summoned beast. Seek an end to this farce – it was fun but he had things to attend to – Gaebriel harnessed his power through the Staff and scorched the room in cleansing fire. It erupted from the windows and cracks of the tower and blew out pieces of rock and stone, showering the battle below with debris. Nothing remained and the lich was a small pile of burned bones and ragged flesh.

Kicking the skull away from the rest of the body, Gaebriel made his way over to the conspicuous dark jewel. It seemed untouched by the fire, evidence enough to know he should destroy it. Dropping it on the ground, he lifted his staff and uttered words of power as he drove it back down into the jewel, shattering it into fragments. A shriek somehow erupted from the bony corpse and a dark cloud formed around the tower, blotting out the moonlight, wind buffeting the top of the tower. Gaebriel stood fast, waiting for the tempest to pass. When it had, the bones and jewel fragments were gone, scattered to the winds.

Leaning on his staff – that had taken a little more out of him than he expected – Gaebriel made his way back to the stairs. As he began to descend, the moonlight was blocked out again, this time by a familiar shape. Zek’s toy was on the wing again, surely observing the battle and reporting to his master. Gaebriel began to hurry. If he could gather the group and pursue the beast, it might be an interesting battle for once…

Homework #7 – Player Choice

Perhaps they had misjudged. More specifically, perhaps Gaebriel had misjudged. He was bloody and breathing hard, as was the rest of his group. They were pulling out every trick and attack they had left in them but the great black beast wouldn’t be defeated.

Filled with power and the lust to deal Zek a crippling blow, Gaebriel led the group in pursuit of Deathlung. The invoker had just bested the lich, wiping it from existence with his radiant power. Orra, Rosey, Charley, and Hack had dispatched the mob below. Nothing remained standing, alive or undead, when Gaebriel landed on the ground floor. Breathing quickly and with a slight smirk, the invoker informed his comrades that the great black dragon had just departed the scene. If they hurried, they could catch the dragon. Destroying two of Zek’s most powerful minions in a single night would demoralize the Black Army and greatly aid their cause. If they could pull it off…

Either too eager, too foolish, or too drunk on their own power, the group had walked right into Deathlung’s trap. They reached the main square of the town, a large beautiful fountain resting in the center, when the attack came. Emerging from the glammer that concealed them, a veritable army of skeleton warriors attacked the group. They were eerily silent, making no noise except the click and clack of their bones on the pavement. Orra laid waste to a huge swath of the undead with his breath as Gaebriel turned and destroyed dozens with his powerful words, demanding the dead return to their rest.

Just as they were feeling all right and thinking the tide had turned, Deathlung attacked. Paying no heed to the undead under its thrall, the dragon blasted acidic breath over the entire square as he flew over the town, sending the group diving for cover as they were burned and half of the skeleton army disintegrated. Rosey dodged gracefully, climbing a five-story building in the flash of an eye. Hack vanished from sight; no one could see him but they’re sure he was somewhere nearby, lurking. Orra ducked behind his shield, gritting his teeth and cursing the black dragon in its own tongue. Gaebriel and Charley took the worst of it, suffering burns as they ducked into doorways on the street, looking for whatever cover they could find.

Deathlung was gone. Disregarding the idiot undead and focusing on the real threat, the group worked smoothly to prepare. A soft bird call revealed Hack’s position to the group. He was perched on a ten or twelve story building, his sword held at the ready. Rosey made sure the moonlight caught his blade so his groupmates were aware as he leapt from tower to tower of a nearby mansion, gaining elevation as he readied his shuriken for the dragon’s next attack. Orra and Charley stayed on the ground, holing up in an alley. Orra held his shield up lazily, deflecting the pitiful attacks from the skeletons while the alley provided a secure flank, waiting for their chance to act.

Extending his wings, Gaebriel flew straight up, landing lightly on the sixth-floor balcony of a large house. His keen eyes looked around. Like himself, his friends were bloody, tired, nearing the end of their energy. Hack and Rosey turned their heads toward the east at the same moment, peering into the darkness. Another soft bird call, this one from Rosey and different than the previous one from Hack, fluttered over the square. The group knew what it meant: the dragon was approaching.

Orra gave a roar and burst out of the alley, blasting the skeletons back. Running to the center of the square with Charley close behind, they turned to face the dragon’s direction. Deathlung swooped down, its head swinging from side to side, spitting small blasts of its oily breath weapon as he sought targets. Charley began to sing, attacking the beast’s mind as Orra challenged the beast in its own tongue. The dragonborn readied his shield as Deathlung dove toward the pair, inhaling deeply to attack with its greatest weapon.

The monster was wrong. This was no easy prey. Shuriken flew from the tower top, slicing through the dragon’s wings and burying deeply in his chest and side. Deathlung shrieked in anger and surprise, losing altitude. Hack landed out of nowhere between the dragon’s wings, driving his blade into the spot where the long neck met the huge body. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the avenger in a black-red spray as he released the sword and flipped off the dragon’s back. The dragon plummeted as Gaebriel flew to meet it head on.

Slamming into the ground clumsily before Orra, Deathlung bit and clawed as the paladin rebuffed the attacks deftly, taking only small wounds rather than being ripped to shreds. Orra’s gleaming axe swung a vicious arc through the air, burying itself in the neck of the dragon. Charley continued to sing, encouraging her allies at the same time the dragon shook its head from side to side, trying to get the sounds out of its skull.

Gaebriel landed before the dragon, slamming the Staff of Asha into the ground. He intended to end this. Giving the dragon another chance would end in death for one, if not all, of them. Chanting loudly in a tongue no one could understand and holding the crimson staff before him, Gaebriel unleashed his fury. A whooshing sound preceded the column of flame and lightning by a bare instant as it slammed into Deathlung’s back from the heavens. Scorched, shocked, and dying, the dragon lashed out one more time. His eyes widening in surprise, Gaebriel held the crimson staff in front of him, not fully understanding what he was doing but hoping to save his, Orra, and Charley’s lives. The dragon’s breath spewed forth, hot and foul, as the staff glowed bright blue. A hemisphere of blue energy surrounded the three as the acid battered against it. The shield shrunk, collapsing on itself as the staff changed color from crimson to blue and started to turn black as it warped and rotted.

Gaebriel felt the power of the staff leaving, wilting in his hands. He directed all of the energy he had left into the staff to maintain the shield. The spray continued and Gaebriel fell to his knees, trying to hold on. The shield collapsed completely as Gaebriel fell unconscious, sapped of all of his strength…just as the dragon gasped its last breath and its massive skull crashed to the ground. Deathlung was dead. Gaebriel’s prone body held onto the staff in a death grip, though now it was stunted, black, and warped.

Leaning over the invoker quickly, Orra laid his healing hands on the battered body. Gaebriel took a ragged deep breath. He was alive but still unconscious. Orra lifted the body as the group gathered, moving quickly to a mostly intact building to rest and recover. And to try to save their friend.

Homework #8 – Gaebriel in Emanuel

Leaving the Library and returning to Emanuel, Gaebriel seemed more distracted than normal. The group had been somewhat surprised by his dismissive attitude toward the Library and the damage it had sustained. Indeed, he didn’t seem to care at all. His quiet muttering, audible only to his own ears if even then, and tendency to fall farther and farther behind the group caused Orra on multiple times to call to his friend to stay close. The Redrounds and who knew what else were still around. Raising his head in a startled fashion, Gaebriel would catch up only to continue to mentally and physically drift away again.


During their stay in Emanuel, Gaebriel continued to drift. He would hunch over small fires by himself, leaning on his staff, head hunched and covered by the hood of his robes. His muttering was incessant. Seemingly at random, he would stand quickly and wander away into the dirty streets. He always managed to return despite the vacant look in his eyes. The one thing he did seem intent on doing was questioning the oldest members of the settlement. Something about their memories “stretching” and “finding truth.” How much help they could provide, the rest of the group didn’t know. They did know that the questions always revolved around the Library: how had it come to be, who founded it, were the books original or transported here from other Libraries, what were the names of the most recent head Librarians before the cult infested the place?

Gaebriel also studied the magnetic book. It occupied his time whenever he wasn’t muttering to himself and working through…whatever it was. He held the book openly, where anyone was welcome to read it.

Near the end of their stay, Gaebriel disappeared. He went missing all night, leaving at dusk and returning just before the sun rose. He didn’t seem hurt, just a little dusty and tired. Asking where he had been, Gaebriel gathered his friends around and relayed what he had learned in his travels around the city and meditations:

“Deep in the library, I found an urn. It contained my ashes, from my body. Much like the small amount from the Hall of Heroes. I returned there last night and ‘reunited’ the ashes. Nothing happened. Consulting the Fates, I determined that it was beneficial to bring all of our ashes, my full body and fragments from your bodies, back with me. I have them in my pack. We’ll carry them wherever we head…who knows when we will need them? Perhaps the famed necromancer Lionel Burnsides can help us. He is knowledgeable about such things.

“Regarding the magnetic book, I have surmised from applying various metals and magnetic lodestones that it is unusually and highly magnetic. The metal binding itself is the source of the magnetism though it’s not magical. The book is mildly enchanted, likely to preserve the ink and paper and whatever other secrets it may hide. All of its pages are blank save for the one sequence of letters in the middle of the book.

“Also, upon reflection, I am certain the cultists never found the secret room containing the magnetic book. The room was too expertly hidden and, because of that, it must have been built with the original Library. That means that book was placed in the room over 314 years ago, when we were previously…alive? I asked everyone I could find in Emanuel what they know about the Library, the cultists, where the books and writings came from. Unfortunately, they were too focused on survival to be of much help.

“Lastly, I support your endeavors, and I urge that we continue to search for more Libraries of Marach and intact Temples of Ioun in our travels. Something is not right about this place, or perhaps something is not right about us, as evidenced by Hack’s disconnection from his Queen. As if he were a great distance away and she unaware of his resurrection. If I can commune with Ioun, and find more old writings of Marach, perhaps they can tell us more.”

Homework #9 – Torun E-Mail Skill Challenge

Rebuild the Library – History

For two days without sleep, Gaebriel scoured the Library. It was a rare occurrence but there were some true sources of knowledge left, some treasures. He took these and consolidated them. They barely covered two shelves. But it was what it was. Using the truce with the Redrounds to move about in relative safely and his memory of old Torun, he searched the manors and houses, coming up with occasional personal libraries and collections that hadn’t been used as tinder in these dark times. Hiring young children to help (and paying them a relative fortune), they hauled as many back to the Library as they were able. He also told the children to find as many books, any in readable condition, and they would be reward for each they brought to the Library. The collection was slowly becoming respectable.

Most of the tomes leftover from the cult were mangled – pages ripped out, others smeared with blood, surrounded with a dark and evil energy. Gaebriel took these books out of the temple and formed a pile. Standing before them and issuing a quick and silent prayer to…something, he wasn’t sure what in this world…he summoned divine power and set the books aflame. Better to start fresh.


Found a Temple – Religion

Wandering the streets, Gaebriel let his instincts guide him. He often closed his eyes, walking the unfamiliar twists and turns. He was thirsty. Stopping at a corner, Gaebriel realized he was in the ghetto. The people here were poorer than even the average citizen and that was saying something. Yet Gaebriel saw three people – and old man and what looked like two teenaged sons – bring food and water to the huddled masses. Each person they helped, whether they said thank you or merely gave a suspicious look before snatching some bread, received a small blessing. When they came to offer Gaebriel water, the invoker accepted gladly and motioned them to follow.


“And that is all I can tell you of the history of this temple,” Gaebriel said as he finished walking the old man, Bo, and his two sons, Boyd and Raylan, through the old Temple of Ioun. It was now a temple without a god but still a place of power. “This was once a holy place and can be again, a beacon for the people of Torun that need help, comfort, and solace. I can still feel the power in this place. Will you heed this call? Will you make this what it once was and more and spread the message of knowledge and righteousness?”

The light in the eyes of the three men and their serene faces was all the answer Gaebriel needed. These men clearly felt the power, too. Even more keenly than Gaebriel himself, it seemed. They had the fervor. They would do well.

“Here,” Gaebriel said as he held out his hand. He handed Bo a small cloth sack. “This gold will allow you to buy all that you need to repair this place and stock it with food and whatever else is needed. Go forth tomorrow and find more that will aid you in the labor and spread the message to everyone that will hear it. Before I leave this town, I will return and we shall participate in a ceremony to cleanse and sanctify this place. The three of us together.”


Research Zek’s Imprisonment and Things Godly – Arcana/Religion

Gaebriel read all he could find. Every scrap, page, and scroll he could find. Anything, rumor or fact, having to do with Zek’s power and his high necromancer, Borel. Borel, or at least his spirit, had been haunting the Hall of Heroes where it seemed their ashes had kept Zek entombed. How did this happen?

Gaebriel researched everything he could find regarding arcane or divine imprisonment. Assuming they found Zek, and regained the power to defeat him, how would they destroy or confine him? Were their lives required? How did they come to be in this place?

His mind wandered. Whenever he hit a dead end, Gaebriel couldn’t help but wonder what Hack had meant. What did he mean the Raven Queen was “distant”? And his power seemed…different. Divine, no question. But what was the source? What had happened to Ioun? As far as he could tell, from his own experience and from his time spent in the temple in Torun, Ioun was gone. Or at least they no longer had any connection.

Shaking his head to clear the stray thoughts, he focused again. How to deal with Zek was the problem. As long as his power was there, what did it matter where it came from?


Last Time On... aaeads