"Mother must be saved at all costs!"
User: Poppy
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Role: Controller
Class/Level: Warlock/18
The nightmares come first each time I sleep. The devil comes to me. He tells me the wizard killed my mother. He promises to give me the powers to avenge her. This is a promise he would keep. A vision of my blue Eldritch Blast lighting up the small Manor room comes into my dream. Everything goes into slow motion as Glasstaff’s body goes limp in and falls to the ground. It is consumed by an intense blood red fire. An image of the demon emblazoned within the flames.

The smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils as my surroundings change to the pits of the fourth ring of hell. In front of me is the the rogue, Bran. His screams echo inside my head. He is bound to a stalagmite of obsidian by magical ropes of flame. Strips of flesh are missing diagonally across his face and body where the lesser devils had peeled it away. The screams stop abruptly and Bran looks at me with the eyes of the devil. His voice pierces through my mind, You will pay for breaking our contract! Take a close look me. You and those around you will suffer the same fate. As the last words fade in my mind, they are replaced by a deafening shrill and laughter. I clasp my hands over my ears to muffle the evil sounds. The screams continue to pierce my mind as my eyes are locked on Bran’s face.

The screams fade as the surroundings change again. Standing in front of me is the familiar cabin of my youth. I can’t rush in fast enough as I break into a sprint. I bust through the door and see her face. I look into her eyes. Those delicate eyes are warm, loving and inviting as only a mother’s can be. The feelings flowing through my body are overwhelming. So much so, I fall to my knees with my arms outstretched inviting her into my arms. The moment seems to linger, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she begins to weep as flames engulf her. Her face melts away as she screams. In the midst of the screams, I can hear the devil speaking, ‘She screamed just like this when I took her.’ The devil’s laugh drowns everything else out.

Every night the nightmare would end there and I would wake to prepare for the next stage of our journey out of this underdark.

That was until a few weeks ago (at least I think it was weeks) when the mind flayer searched my mind and revealed my connection with the devil had been severed. It reassured me the pact I had made with him was taken up by an even more powerful being. An old deity named Amaunator.

The nightmare came on me again during my next rest. Same as before. Only this time, the devil’s claim to my mother is cut short by the presence of a blinding light. As the light fades, I see standing before me a lanky man with silver-white hair, a short, week-long growth of white beard, and skin that glowed with a quiet golden radiance. He carried, what he called, the Scepter of the Eternal Sun in one hand and a large legal tome in the other, and wore the clothes of a magistrate: a long, purple gown trimmed with silver. I felt the power of true law as I stood before him.

Over the course of the last several weeks, Amaunator revealed his history and power through my dreams and prayers. The pact made was to continue to provide me with the power of the arcane with the exception of the powers given to me by the devil. ‘Not to worry, my young prophet, I will replace those powers.’ In return, I would spread the word of his return, The Brotherhood of the Glorious Sun and the Risen Sun Heresy.