-The Halls of Hara’ad are the home & homeland of the House of Hadru’Id, deep in the middle north of the Gorgo regions on the 7th Plane. Thus, it was there in the heart of Hadru’Id that Abeloth Giant’s Bane trekked throughout in search of the Church of the Forge. The Blue Eyes, White Dragon had crossed from the east over into the Free Lands territories, where she witnessed first hand the marching Bright Armies of the Bright Lord.

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  There have only been 6 Dark Ones recorded since the emergence of Thrandkind, let alone since the very dawn time on Kundra. Six great Dark Lords have covered the worlds in woe as darkness befell each emerging age, era, or epoch at their beckon calls. The last 6 Dark Ones served the darkness, shadow, the void & abyss beyond it. They served ONLY that which lies beyond knowing & reason. The Seventh Sovereign, however, did not emerge from or as part of the darkness. The Dark Lords were vile & viscous, twisted & terrifying, with terrible power beyond most mortal comprehension. The Bright Lord is beautiful, however, with gemstone eyes & golden flesh. Mayhaps, gemstones instead of eyes & flesh literally made of gold. This Bright One sheds tears of twilight and bleeds rainbow blood if the many mythical tales are to be believed. Death is beautiful to behold, and his army of acolytes are no different. Beautiful or dead. In death is the promise of the Bright Lands, a literal realm of gold with rainbow rivers, lakes & oceans abound. In exchange for this promised paradise, the Bright Armies are summoned back to the 7 Planes to wage war in the Bright Lord’s name. Given bodies constituted entirely of God’s Gold save for any injury obtained in service of their lord. Scars & severed limbs alike are filled or formed from solid rainbow with bones coated in quicksilver. That which would normally be monstrous is made magnificent within his legions, molding an ever growing ever zealous Bright Army to be contended with.

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  Lost in the wilderness for hours on end, Abeloth finally stumbled upon Veritas, the given name of the grand Church of the Forge.

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  Veritas is a volcanic mountain first & foremost, with great world engines, pylons, pillars & bridges beneath the base of the caldera’s rim. It is the greatest mechanized or mechanical marvel of the Thran Ages and approaches the mastery of metal possessed solely by the Aeonic Deities. Gold are its gates, silver are its streets, with every venue teeming with volcanic glass. Molten rivers & lakes are tamed by glistening & golden machines that have staved off eruption since the founding of the Forge by the Smith God.

  … … …

  It was the ingenuity of the dwarven folk alone, however, which redirected the triggered holocaust in between and around its many magnificent structures. By the time the voluptuous vagrant had arrived, the entirety of the temple was still sizzling red hot.

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  “Lo, O’ Clerics of Hammer & Vise, Vandagor of Veritas has beset the 7 Planes and summoned me forth,” Giant’s Bane yelled up to the impossibly large mountainside gateway.

  The great golden gates precipitously opened up to a full compliment welcoming party of 6. The votaries of Veritas are forever voiceless save the voice of their god, and thus they led her through the illustrious & industrial catacombs in absolute silence. Her entire retinue paused before a large obsidian archway, yet she moved forward still, unaware they’d all remained stationary at the entrance. It was only in that moment, having detected no footsteps behind her, that she realized these clerics were not simply Voiceless but also soundless as well. The whole of the pitch black chamber was lined or composed with volcanic glass and had six sinister-looking obsidian statues standing in the center as tall as the sitting giantess motif.

  “What is this place? I have never seen–whatever this is!” Giant’s Bane inquired, excitedly.

  The monks only motioned her further into the nightscape black enclosure, simultaneously as if it were well rehearsed. She complied after another dough-eyed gaze at the black building sized monstrous monuments she approached with wonder. The two which flanked her like a broken archway were as queer in comparison as they were to behold. The ridiculously large relief to her left was surely a minotaur, only it bore the head of a goat with as many extra arms as it possessed horns; each filled with tight throats. Her heart was roaring beneath her ample bosom and plate armor as she set her sight on its face. Its eyes were soulless, and even looking upon them rationalized The Voiceless being eternally speechless. There was a black ring in its pierced nose which was chained all the way down to its pierced member. Her knees buckled and nearly gave out at what she saw behind the Aeon forsaken figurine. Its many tails were wrapped or coiled around the throats of an infant child of each of the high races of Kundra. Gurath & Shu were carved into the front of the foundation stone; which the Dv?rgher understood to mean Chaos & Order, while the Dyrholmr translated it as Supernatural & Nature. The enormous effigy to her right was equal parts man and monster as its predecessor was with long, clawed and webbed fingers & feet. It had massive, draconic, webbed wings with tendrils hanging from its maw like the arms of a kraken. The foundation stone had long been defaced out of some rational fear she dared not imagine. The only visible writing is a word that belongs to no known root language or compound dialects. The Dwarves all agree that the word is pronounced ruh-LAY-uh yet the Elves pronounce it as Arr-Lia, and stranger still, Rawl-ya-Ha is its pronunciation in the known Orcish tongue. Each idol was worse than the one that preceded it.

  “Azath the Ultimate, Yarlath the Bringer & The Thoth magog,” Vandagor thundered.

  Iystrya spun around to find her god before her and immediately mirrored the monks on their knees & noses.

  “By any number of names your kind have allotted them, they are the Outer Gods of the Limbos.”