Deep in her dark workshop, the dark elf Milene was in the midst of physical labor. Her soft hands dexterously handled a pestle, a blunt club-like instrument which in the case of the one in her possession was made of the dense bones of a beast native to the world beneath the world. The pestle was used to pound and crush things as part of the potion-making process.

At that moment the dark elf was using the pestle to laboriously grind down a mineral that contained healing properties when ground to a fine powder and mixed with water.

The mineral was stubbornly refusing to fall apart in the wake of her calm and steady pounding. The effort was making the young evangelist work up a sweat and was gradually wearing down her patience.

The young dark elf possessed an eerie and haunting beauty, even as she pushed both herself and her instrument to strike more accurately, and more furiously at the edges of the mineral whose stubbornness she was beginning to take as akin to a personal challenge.

Her dark, full lips were upturned in an annoyed scowl that turned her particular sort of beauty into beauty like that of a tyrannical queen who was hated by her people for her attitude but grudgingly admired for her physical beauty.

She wore a simple outfit, undergarments which molded her more womanly features to a shape that distracted weaker willed men, as well as some women, underneath a simple smock designed to prevent her from getting dirty while she worked. The simple smock still accentuated her beauty, because the thing clung to and drew eyes towards her finer curves.

The early signs of an anger-fueled tantrum contorted her gaze so that her brown, humanlike eyes were unnervingly sharp. Her anger caused her new psychic powers to flare outward, unconsciously and beyond her control. Her powers stretched into her workspace in search of objects to uplift and things to upturn.

A few moments of searching, fueled by her flaring temper, resulted in her mysterious, often uncontrolled or unconscious sort of telekinesis finding nothing it could free from the tyranny of gravity. It was while her psychic power was roaming her workspace, finding that everything was tied down, secured or otherwise impervious to her powers that her master reached into her mind.

[Hello Milene. You have brought several of Undermoon's citizens and even their slaves to me. The work you've done has not gone unnoticed. I want you to know that. I value the work you're doing. It brings me joy to know that more dark elves are coming to me, through you.]

Althos said, informing her of his feelings regarding the work she'd done since she left his side. Then his message continued.

[Their hearts are not yet fully mine, not like yours anyway, but with each meeting you've held they inch closer and closer to joining you, your aunt, and Drow in heartfelt worship.]

Althos' message filled the young dark elf with hope. In an instant, the powerful voice of her master drove out the impatience she felt towards the stubborn mineral. And he replaced that emotion with a series of new ones.

All it took to chase away the impatience that Milene felt was a few words, a small number of short sentences from her master. Now new emotions raced through her heart, surging through her veins with each palpitation of her heart.

Althos recognizes my labor! She realized, for the first time since she began luring the ambitious to her workshop. That knowledge filled her with a deep sense of joy and pride in both herself and the work she had done.

It made her dark cheeks flush as her powerful and magical blood rushed there, and elsewhere, fueled by the knowledge that her master was happy.

The others don't yet truly believe in Althos' power... but they will soon! She thought, determination being one of many emotions she felt surging through every fiber of her being.

Qu'Ren, and Drow also truly worship Althos... but Mianthus wasn't included in that statement. She thought grimly, seconds after Althos first spoke to her. The thought came as the excitement she felt at her master's words began to fade, and her mind regained its ability to make calm assessments.

I must convince Mianthus to join us. She realized, wanting her brother to be one of Althos' faithful worshipers and servants. The determination she felt to bring him into Althos' fold was heartfelt and powerful.

The emotion came from a place deep within her, the same place from which her admiration of Qu'Ren sprung and the pride she felt in being part of a significant noble family. It was the result of potent pride that only came about when one fused the arrogance of nobility with a deep desire to achieve a goal. It was more heartfelt and ran deeper than the childish determination that compelled her to pound the mineral in her cup-like mortar into a fine powder.

I will convince Mianthus to join us. The dark elf told herself, sure of her ability to do so. Her desire to do so came about as a result of the mixing of the familial love she felt for her brother and the mixture of admiration and infatuation she felt towards Althos.

It makes sense that we worship Althos. He's a god after all. She sometimes reasoned, weakly attempting to justify the powerful feelings she felt towards her divine master.

In actuality, though Althos compelled powerful emotions in all of his followers her feelings towards the deity sprang from the way his magic touched her.

His mind and his magic had corrupted and mutated her mind, though the mutation was unintentional and unknown even to Althos. His magic had entered her, and then easily corrupted and subverted her will, bending her heart to his whims from the first time he awoke a vestigial trait of hers, her slowly growing telekinetic powers.

She finally refocused after thinking about her brother and realized it wasn't befitting Althos' dignity as a god for him to send her a message and for her not to respond. She spent a few moments composing a message for her master, and then sent it, transmitting the contents of her mind and of her heart to the one she worshipped.

[Althos, though it brings me endless joy to know that my work is seen and that my labor produces something you value, I do not deserve such words of praise. Your glory, even when not experienced directly, inspires those who aspire to greater heights. All I do is tell them of you and they do the rest themselves.] Milene confessed, her words true, but also perhaps overly dismissive of her role in the process.

Althos chuckled, the sound transmitted across the mental connection he and the dark elf shared. He sensed how little she thought of herself, and took it upon himself to correct that as a way to reward the work she had done to expose dark elves to him.

The deity began the conversational work needed to reassure her of her value to him, and to the people who've come to him through her.

His words, which he had learned by analyzing the clever manipulators and leaders like Qu'Ren and Camaxtli whose memories and knowledge he possessed touched her heart, and moved the dark elf, filling her with an increased and more realistic sense of self-worth.

The conversation the two began in the wake of Milene disparaging herself lasted for hours and would result in the dark elf viewing herself far more confidently. But she was only one of the three creatures Althos reached out to that night.

In the moments Milene was pounding the mineral in her mortar in the city of Undermoon, the orc Ranthor was examining tools of his own. The orc's day was coming to an end, and it was like many other days the orc had had since he reunited with the other raiders, including Althos' first servants.

A typical day for the orcish evangelist in the forest that his divine master sprung to life in, began with a hunt. He wandered the woods for an hour or so, waiting to stumble across local wildfire. So far he had never failed to find a rabbit or two to snare for the raiders. As their numbers grew, so too did the size of his prey. He considered this a blessing from Althos.

Upon returning to the camp he went to the carefully watched fire and gave the spoils of the hunt to the orc in charge of butchering the raiders' food. The orc, a thin and sniveling thing, was a sadist who was an artist with a butcher knife. The creature was one of the first orcs to praise Althos and ingratiated himself with Ranthor quickly.

After that Ranthor quietly went off and examined his tools and oftentimes the tools of orcs with worse sight than his own. He spent a few hours doing this, tending to the items the orcs used in pursuit of a range of missions across the forest.

The orc's day got interesting only after completing this most mundane of rituals. It was after he tended to the items of the raiders that he began his daily sermons. He loudly extolled Althos' values to any of the orcs passing by, praising the deity, whom he referred to as "The Dark Lord" for his caution in battle, his mighty martial powers, and the magic he expertly wielded in battle.

He also praised Althos for his ability to empower those who worshiped him, his desire to unify creatures, especially orcs, under his banner, and his kindness in keeping families together. After a few days of this behavior, the orc was joined in this tradition by other orcs who had become the deity's worshipers.

They did this for hours, while the other orcs ate and did the duties they performed when the raiders weren't in a state of warfare. Some of Althos' newest followers even did this while they fulfilled their own assigned duties, turning their work into religious exercises.

When the sun began to set, Ranthor would go and perform one more check of his items and the items of anyone else who had entrusted their gear to him for maintenance.

The last thing he did was eat dinner and shortly afterward go somewhere close to the fire to sleep.

Not terribly far from the city of Undermoon, in the forest that Althos sprung to life in, Ranthor sat on a patch of grass and expertly examined the tools he used in battle. Behind him, the sun was gradually starting to descend.

The orc, who worked as both a hunter and an evangelist had carefully laid out an assortment of the tools of his martial trade in front of him and his skilled eyes expertly studied each of the items before him.

The smallest tools were the ones that were closest to him. Right in front of where he sat were numerous arrowheads and arrows that he had gently placed on soft grass. They were both orcish variants of the ammunition, and arrows he had taken from slain humans which were obviously of lesser quality than the ones that hailed from his people.

He carefully examined each of these things he had built or collected, taking his time to studiously search the ammunition for any defects that may impede their performance and thus bring down his own ability to cull whoever the group of raiders called their enemies during their next battle.

Though he was studying arrows and arrowheads, a bit further away from them were a number of knives. These knives were made of different metals, with some being simple cooper tools suitable for little more than inflicting bleeding cuts, and others made of much finer material like silver.

Even further away from the orc than the knives laid his bow, a fine thing designed for long-range sniping or to be used to rain terror on distant enemies. It was something that had been a gift from the human who taught him archery, and because of that, it was the one thing in his possession that he obsessively maintained.

The bow was incredibly clean, far cleaner than the orc himself, and the orc's second set of arms unconsciously inched towards it. The orc snarled and mentally recalled the limbs when he noticed that they were stealthily approaching the bow, fingers twitching in sneaky delight.

Perhaps the biggest reason for the orc's success in converting his fellow orcs to the worship of their master was his second set of arms and the strange weapon they often held. The orc's thick, muscular second set of limbs were often used to hold and fire the soul-weapon, a powerful bow made of Ranthor's own soul that he could now conjure thanks to a blessing bestowed upon him by Althos.

The first night that the orc was reunited with his fellow raiders they had been impressed by his secondary set of arms, only to be told that they were a gift bestowed upon him by his master. They questioned him and eventually, Ranthor opted to demonstrate the other gift Althos had bestowed upon him, his soul-weapon, which led to many of the orcs wanting to know more about Althos.

It took them a handful of nights to decide that Althos was worth worshipping, and when they did they joined his flock. At the time that occurred Althos was adjusting to life in the dark cathedral and was focused on working with Silander to gain eyes and ears in the desert.

Ranthor's eyes had just begun to drift towards examining the knives he used to dissect what he hunted when Althos' voice reverberated throughout his mind.

[Ranthor, I am pleased to see that you are doing as you told me you would. It brings me great joy to know that our time together has transformed you into such a skilled evangelist.]

Althos' mighty voice penetrated the orc's psyche and sent his emotions awhirl. But the deity wasn't done.

[Your efforts to convert orcs is producing results, and I am happy to inform you that one member of your cult has the potential physique and attitude to become a dark-night, a powerful leader and mighty warrior in my service.]

The deity's revelation excited Ranthor, who knew that it was his labor that led whichever of the orcs Althos was referring to, to the dark lord in the first place. Ranthor didn't really understand what a dark-night was, but even Althos didn't have a meaningful understanding of the term beyond it a powerful warrior devoted to him so it made sense that the orcish follower of the god knew less.

Althos, while in the middle of the celebration with the jackaloids, created a copy of Ranthor's memories so that he may familiarize himself with some of the newest creatures to worship him.

The deity, an experienced expert at memory copying and mind manipulation, nearly instantly absorbed the memories he had gained and unbeknownst to Ranthor grinned as he learned that Ranthor had been preaching the exact faith of unity, strength, mutations and vestigial traits that the group had created shortly before Ranthor reunited with his allies.

The orc, had built upon the building blocks of the faith the party had created and was beginning to transform it into a unifying faith that centered around orcs and their kin being unified in service to Althos, but the underlying tenants Althos, Gallow, Ranthor, and the others had discussed were clearly present in Ranthor's mini-cult.

And that wasn't the only surprise the deity learned of through Ranthor's memories. While taming the area near the dark cathedral, Althos had gained a surprising worshiper.

[I'm further impressed now that I've gleaned an understanding of what you've begun to build here. You truly are hard at work bringing me orcish servants. Warriors, archers, a new magic-user and even the female orc have come to me because of you... You've done well Ranthor.]

Althos decided to allow his emotion to be communicated over the mental connection the god and the orc shared, and Ranthor's heart raced as he felt the sincerity of the god's words. The orc quickly composed a heartfelt message of his own and sent it, mentally, to his master.

[Master... Thank you for agreeing to let me be reunited with this band, my band. I swear, they shall be just the first of an uncountable amount of such bands to dedicate themselves to serving you and striking your enemies.]

Althos grinned at this, and the jackaloids who were in his presence thought he was grinning due to a joke told by a jackaloid who was eagerly testing out his comedic material on his fellow canine-shapeshifters. They didn't find it as funny as they thought their master and divine father did.

At the moment that Althos made the decision to contact the third member of the aforementioned trio, Althos' first familiar Silander, was tactilely exploring her new suit of armor. Hours had passed already since he spoke to Milene and Ranthor.

Silander, a great frog and the very first creature to undergo the process that eventually became known as the dramatically named "Birth Of A New Mind" ritual, ran her padded hands over the handmade suit of armor she and the rogue named Gallow completed a few hours earlier.

Her tactile exploration of the armor that covered her lithe form led to the young thing's batrachian hands swiftly brushing up against every nook and cranny of her odd form. At various moments the brush of her fingers against her more sensitive body parts caused a faint blush to emerge across her face but she never let herself be distracted by the womanly feelings that fluttered in her chest when her young fingers accidentally brushed the wrong body part.

She quickly memorized where the armor was naturally thickest, realizing that her imperfect tailoring had been corrected in part by the skills of the more dexterous orc who had aided her. Because of his corrections, the places where her mistakes might have otherwise been disastrous became places where the mistakes were instead just minor or even merely cosmetic.

That knowledge gave her the leeway to appreciate how she looked and the chance to appreciate the aesthetic appeal of the neat, asymmetrical armor she donned.

What the great frog, a creature that was basically a frog the size of a human child, wore could only be described as "all-organic". The armor clung tightly to her skin and was made of equal parts leather and chitin. The armor covered both her upper and lower body, hugging her snuggly and offering the first of Althos' evangelists a unique sort of physical protection.

The upper half of the handmade armor was made of thick chitin, chitin which she and Gallow had gathered by dissecting the sacrifices creatures she preached to and made into Althos' worshipers had offered Althos and left near the edges of the territory that Althos had transformed days ago.

The lower half of the armor was made of tanned leather, leather which was the same color as the chitin which covered Silander's small chest. The leather also came from sacrifices offered by creatures who sought to receive the blessings of the creature she served and worshiped.

While Althos was doing other things, Silander and Gallow quietly brought their heads together and began a collaboration to transform the things left behind by enthusiastic worshipers of Althos into something useable and they had just finished the first item on their list: a working suit of armor.

Silander tested the usefulness of the suit by first testing its flexibility. The young great-frog practiced moving her clothed limbs to see if the suit reduced her range of motion. She started off slow, gently extending her arms and then her legs in a range of directions. Much to her surprise, the armor didn't resist her and she didn't it feel balk at any of her motions.

She slowly began to speed up, and complicate her movements. She did her best to mimic the complex motions she had seen Althos' first servants, the orcish brawlers who now resided with Ranthor, do while battling. The suit of armor flowed with her and refused to impede her movements. She smiled as she began to bravely believe that maybe her handcrafted suit of armor might be viable equipment.

She was in the middle of throwing a few punches and kicks as if practicing a form of dance-like martial arts when Althos' voice entered her mind, interrupting the moment that served as both her training her skills and testing of her equipment.

[Hello Silander, I see that you are having fun with the sacrifices.]

Althos' tone was light-hearted as his voice first entered Silander's mind. The deity was, of course, aware of the choice by animals to leave behind sacrifices to him, and he himself hadn't been sure of what to do with the things, so he didn't hate that his first familiar decided to convert the skin and chitin of the creatures felled by Althos' animalistic worshipers into something useful.

The young creature responded to her master, slightly afraid but knowing that it was likely that the deity's reaction to her actions matched his tone: mirthful. [Hello master, we've eaten the meat of the sacrifices, but their fur and their chitin... we didn't want it to go to waste. So we decided to make armor out of it. If that displeases you, please level your frustration and displeasure at me and me alone.]

The great-frog was honest to a fault, not one who was particularly adept at the range of skills needed to be an adept deceiver. Althos laughed, the sound picked up by Silander because the deity willed it so, and then began to speak. His voice was light and kind, swiftly reassuring her that she wasn't in trouble.

[I appreciate how forthright you are Silander. I am not displeased. I am... mildly concerned that something that was a sacrifice for me was something you decided to use without consulting me at all, but I suspected such an event may come to pass. So long as you actually use the armor you've made and so long as you tell me if you desire to use sacrifices made to me in such a way again, I shall overlook this... oddity.]

She nodded in response to his words, transmitting the emotions that came with such a gesture to her master. He smiled, allowing her to feel the warmth of the action, and thereby reassure her that he would stay true to his word. Then he began to speak again, his voice maintaining its warmth.

[I wanted to come here and praise you. The creatures you've transformed into my worshipers are spreading across the desert and revealing all manner of sandy secrets to me. Without you such discoveries would remain, at least for the moment, beyond my reach. I value the work you've done and am happy that you've convinced so many different creatures to come to me.]

His words were powerful, sincere, and made Silander feel both joy at her service, and surprising pride in her work. She hadn't just brought creatures to Althos, her work revealed secrets to him, knowledge which he valued above all else, and even brought the rest of them food and other valuable supplies.

But Althos wasn't finished yet. The deity was about to reveal something to her. A task for her, one that required the sort of touch only she could provide.

[I am approaching you with a new, minor mission, because you are the only person currently at the cathedral that can accomplish it. Can I trust you?] Althos asked, his voice peering into her mind. He was delighted to find no self-doubt and instead a sensation of curiosity mixed with self-assurance.

[Yes you can master.] She told him, eager to see his will fulfilled.

Althos, while in the encampment watched the jackaloids with abject curiosity and a surprising amount of joy. He watched as the things engaged in their own odd form of comedy. He watched as they chatted to each other and to him. He watched as they shared fables, myths, and even their own original stories inspired by the fables they told their young and their own lived experiences.

He spent hours in their company and enjoyed every minute of it. It's true that his mind was partially elsewhere, conversing with his three evangelists, but he was still present in the moment. He engaged the jackaloids, conversing with them and even evoking awe by demonstrating a few of his own powers.

He had also conversed with his advisors and asked them about classes and monks. In doing so he learned of things like monasteries, places where monks train and hone their skills while also honing the philosophies that drive them forth into the world, and the settlements that sometimes sprung up around them. And in learning about monasteries a fire was lit in his strange heart.

This fire, among other things, inspired the scheme he was about to put into action. He composed another message to Silander, trusting her to be one of the faithful executors of this particular plot.

[Silander, I have acquired new worshipers.] He told the great-frog, before summarizing what had happened with the jackaloids. Her reaction was to laugh, particularly at his dogma, and then she muttered sincere praise which exalted his talent at deception and magic.

And then the deity revealed the actual plot that he was eager to implement. [I am planning to send the jackaloids to you all. If I do so, your task will be to aid them to integrate into the area and then create a monastery. Between the cathedral and a monastery, especially when one realizes that plants can grow in the area near the cathedral, civilized creatures can actually live in the area. Soon it could start to create a town.]

There it was. The deity was inspired not by monasteries by themselves, but by something else. Towns. Civilization. Althos was scheming to create a settlement. A settlement to rival the city of Bastille.

Silander couldn't see them, but Althos' eyes were aglow with devious delight as he thought more and more about the scheme. Silander, ever-eager to see the will of her awakener come to fruition, eagerly agreed to do her best to ensure this scheme comes to pass. And Althos communicated the plan to the jackaloids, who were still in a jubilant mood.

"Children! It is time that I reveal more about my plan to protect you from the predations of the scoundrel Paimon." Althos said, allowing feigned rage to infuse his voice as he spoke in the canine language of the shape-shifters who thought themselves blessed and protected by Althos, a deity of knowledge and deception, a trickster god.

"It is time that I give you a real home. And I know just the place." Althos said, a wide grin etching itself easily and eerily on his handsome face.