“Kulshedra, how are the people doing after the quake?” an elderly, horned, red-skinned individual asks his companion in a placid tone while looking out the window of a very well put together office. Clean, sleek, hardwood furniture and shelves with sharp lines and sharper accents.

“At first, it was as we expected, some concern but all have been through this before,” Kulshedra says. “However, I regret to be the one informing you of the remainder of the rumor surrounding the origin of the event, which I personally have been having trouble refuting.”

“The fact that it originated at the temple of The Eternal Wanderer?” the elderly individual states rhetorically. “It is no rumor, my children were there at the time.”

“Greatest apologies for presuming you would not know Lord Abraxas,” Kulshedra replies.

“In this specific case, I will not hold it against you. However, I have received word from the other Realms that this is not an isolated incident. No, this was somewhat expected, though it is a portent of things to come as all the temples of The Eternal Wanderer are foci. These many years have passed since my ancestors began ruling this realm has given us time to study them and understand that much at least.”

“It has been many millennium since I have visited one of the temples,” Kulshedra says, “but do we know what this portent may be? Any indication of what is to come?”

“No, but given the nature of the Wanderer last I met him, all temples are preparing. They are anchors within the realms, of that we know as well, providing waypoints by which our long range teleportation remains stable and working. If one were active, it would mean he is preparing to visit again, but with all of them at the center of this event this morning…”

“Sentients, many, many sentients are likely to arrive, aren’t they?” Kulshedra replies. “Has The Wanderer ever been hostile? Should we have a call to arms?”

At this Abraxas turns enough so that his reflection is staring Kulshedra in the eyes. “You were not joking when you said it has been a while. You will survive the Wanderer, should you not give him reason to abandon you during the journey. At that point, only your own strength will help you survive, be it wit or Arms. Brook no delusions, do not give him cause to do so.

“If any relatives have aches,” Abraxas continues, “get them within 10 li of the temple. Its healing is active, and none shall die while within those bounds.”

As Kulshedra begins to open his mouth again, they are interrupted by a knock at the door. Abraxas quickly responds and the door opens revealing the infernal being’s secretary.

“Sirs,” he begins, “refugees, in exceedingly large numbers, are appearing in temples of The Wanderer. Devils, demis, elves, humans, livestock, wild animals. The public likely knows already.”

Turning around fully, Abraxas asks, “I would ask how we know they are refugees, but the fact there is livestock and wildlife among those present is evidence enough. Has anyone who arrived in our temple stepped up claiming leadership over these peoples? Prioritize dispatching the plainclothes peacekeepers to organize them, despite the chaos and new environment not all will be grateful or friendly. Remind them how the temples work.”

“Understood,” the secretary responds. “None have come forward as of the first few minutes of the portals opening. There is a portal on each of the eight faces of the exterior temple walls.”

A brief silence fills the room as Abraxas performs algebra in his head, and Kulshedra begins to process the logistics of what will need to be done.

“Do we know if there is any possibility of them being able to return home?” Kulshedra asks, first to recover.

Before the secretary is able to respond however, Abraxas snaps for a brief moment.

“Fool,” he says, allowing little time before continuing. “Whatever is happening on the other side is likely a worldwide catastrophe, to the point even wild beasts have willingly chosen a portal to parts unknown. Dagon, do we know anything? Can we understand the sentients at all?”

“Lord Abraxas, it seems that the temple grounds, in addition to the healing powers present, are granting a form of Heart to all present. We have been able to detect immense amounts of mana flowing through the portal to power all of this.”

“World collapse, it’s the only way…” Abraxas says softly.

Dagon, seeing that as permission to continue, does so. “Early reports say there was a glancing impact to the satellite they live on, though given the size and composition of the satellite I am hesitant to say it was anything less than a hyper-dense celestial impact. The planet they orbit has habitable conditions, but it seems as if they do not get along well with the sentients living there, and few have the magic necessary to cross the distance anyway. This was gathered from a winged creature and a tortoise, thanks to Heart.”

“Kulshedra, Dagon, I shouldn’t have to say this but keep me informed. I will see what I can do from here for now, but if we are graced with the presence of The Eternal Wanderer, let me know immediately. Get people and supplies moving, I’ll tell the rest of our people.”

- - - - - - - - - -

‘Haaaaa, what an utterly, complete, catastrophe’ the Other thinks as he walks through a red portal into a sepia toned world, which, perhaps, takes the edge off of his headache. Turning to the side, he walks into the temple the portal has placed him near. While there is a significant amount of traffic, his movements do draw attention, especially when he steps over the threshold of the temple proper.

Heaving another sigh at the attention, he does not stop walking but raises a weary hand in greeting to the half-dozen natives that have semi-permanently occupied this temple. Walking up to the flat dais, he taps his foot on several magic symbols, causing a stone throne to rise. Ignoring the incredulous stares, he sits and throws a leg over one arm of the chair, and holds his head.

‘It had to happen at some point, but now is probably as good of a time as ever, the population was beginning to accelerate so the death toll would be even higher later. And the more memories I would have…’ the Other thinks, before being interrupted.

“Ancient Wanderer, may we serve you in some way?”

“Ah,” he replies slowly, along with the rest of his words. “Something, cold, to drink. I suppose that, you have a leader somewhere, that would want to know what is going on?”

“Yes sire, and it shall be obtained.”

“Excellent,” the Other replies with an exhale. Lifting his hand towards the blue gem at the apex of the throne, he begins to channel magic into it. “Have all of these structures remained intact?”

“A handful have been destroyed in various acts of misfortune over the millennia.”

“Pity. That should be enough, for the Realms to know I have returned. However,” the Other says, exhausted. “Send word to those desolate areas, make pilgrimage towards the nearest temple, leave none behind. One day, and some hours remain. Then the effect will fade, quickly.”

“As you say, Eternal One.”

“You, who have not spoken, your name and position. You do not appear, to be native to this place.”

“Valac, Eternal Wanderer. Grandchild to Lord Abraxas, ruler of this Realm. My parents, aunts, and uncles were present in this place when the quake began, and have gone out to help. I remain here to help coordinate.”

“Hmmm…” the Other hums, in thought and exhaustion, still not looking at anything besides the back of his hand. “Continue to do so. When the time comes, I will have you coordinate, that which needs a vigilant overseer. In the plane from which these few have arrived.”

“Sire,” Valac begins, curiosity overwhelming. “What happened, what has led to ‘these few’ refugees needing to flee their home plane?”

“Ah, a misunderstanding,” the Other replies. “I tire, but you shall know, if but in brief. Refugees they are, from a world disaster, not from a planar catastrophe. An ancient celestial object, known by myself to impact either a specific planet or its moon, has finally done so. Now, to sate yourself, despite additional questions, it is a dragon, alive but petrified, curled up in a protective embrace of-“

“Great One! It is an honor to see you after all this time! Please tell this humble servant of yours these long ages past what your will is this day!”

Staring at the short, blue, broad-shouldered devil who interrupted him, the Other sighs yet again.

“Zagan. As you have graciously volunteered, a small but important task I will give to you,” the Other says in the same exhausted tone he has used since arriving. “Organize the refugees, at all the other sites apart from this, prepare them well. Some may stay within the Realms, should they wish. The remainder shall return to their plane. Not to their satellite, their moon as it were, but to the planet proper. Two days shall they have to prepare.”

“So you have said! And so it shall be done!”

Looking at the devil who stormed into and nearly immediately out of the temple, Valac only has more questions, forgetting the incomplete sentence earlier. For an Overlord has come and gone, no demands asked, no deference sought, an order given and an order followed.

“Eternal Wanderer, pardon me for asking,” Valac begins, still staring at the departing blue devil, “but I have never seen Zagan before, lest heard of him being subservient to any. Please indulge me with enlightenment on this.”

“Fair, enough. You see this throne?” the Other asks, gesturing lazily around himself. Receiving a nod, he continues. “Simply stating the complex, the eldest among you know me by another title, the Lord of Purgatory, Eternal and Desolate, Preserver of Order in Chaos and Chaos in Order. Emperor of the Everlasting Stasis. Torturer of the Fiend’s Soul. None shall perish in these lands, touched by the light of my throne, though many may live in regret, and yet they live.”

Sensing the devolution of coherent sentences and increasingly cryptic meanings, Valac thanks the Other and excuses himself, asking if they could provide sleeping arrangements. The Other requests several pillows and blankets, as he will sleep upon his throne this day.