Caelan Barrett, 28, paladin and hero of the realm

When Caelan Barrett had first left home ten years ago, as an eighteen-year old tiefling boy, to help people as a newly-minted Paladin of Aldir, he did not think that he would one day save the world. His pale gray skin, stark white hair, black horns, and red eyes looked menacing rather than heroic, and he’d had to earn every iota of his reputation through his deeds.

He had not accomplished it alone, however. Mahja, the half-orc barbarian, had been by his side almost since his first day of adventuring. Adalheid, the dwarf druid, and Lucs Errax, the goblin rogue, had joined when they had traveled a bit more through Ocowyth and completed a few jobs, but he’d known them both almost as long as he’d known Mahja. Glyka, now Glyka Aldiris, an orphaned goblin girl, had joined them three years ago, when they had helped Lucs liberate the goblin city of Toothsrest from a demon lieutenant that wished to use its people as blood sacrifices. She, like him, had chosen to dedicate her life to Aldir, although where he was strong and unyielding, she was cunning and fast.

The party had made other friends and allies in their adventures. There was the storm dragon Ionanthe, who first joined forces with them when the demonic threat began to make itself known, and then grew to value their friendship. And then there was Pieta, former test subject of the late, unlamented, wizard Rovanus, who had learned enough of his magic to become a formidable **** in her own right. And then, just a year ago, they had saved the life of the second princess, now Crown Princess, of Ocowyth, Emilie von Wedell.

They had all grown so much, from callow young adventurers to true heroes of the realm, from frightened victims to determined adults, from spectators to protectors. Now they stood in the center of Askania, the capital city of Ocowyth, ready to prove themselves worthy of the title. If they could not save their realm, their world, from the demonic invasion, they were all prepared to die trying.

“Commander Wolton!” Caelan called, pointing to the commander of the city guard who stood by their side. “Tell your men to organize the civilians’ evacuation to the castle! Adalheid, Pieta, cover them with barrier spells!”

“And then what?” snapped Wolton. “Do we just stand there and wait to die? Or do we retreat like cowards instead of defending our home?”

Adalheid looked ready to shout at the soldier instead of repelling the demonic onslaught, but Caelan held up a hand.

“After you’ve evacuated the city, we need you to return to the battle. There are too many demons here, and we need everyone to fight at their full strength. But we can’t do that if we’re worried about killing our own people. We’ll hold the line until you all return.”

Wolton smiled proudly. “Of course. We’ll make sure that those who cannot defend themselves are safe in the castle until we win.”

At that, the smile turned wan, but only Caelan and Wolton himself noticed. As Wolton and his men took charge of the evacuation, turning the terrified stampede of people into an orderly group headed to the castle, Caelan continued to issue commands.

“Ionanthe, take to the skies! Kill all the flying demons!” commanded Caelan.

“Already on it!” said the dragoness, already changed into her full draconic form. She took to the skies with a draconic screech. Then, she released a blast of lightning from her maw that caused the demons in its path to dissolve into green dust and smoke.

“Lucs, Glyka, strike from the shadows, and try to take out the leaders of the horde.”

Lucs grinned wide in response, showing off his sharp teeth, before thoroughly vanishing into the city, the only clues to his presence being the sudden piles of green dust that had once been attacking demons. Caelan was glad that Lucs and his arsenal of blades were on their side.

“I’ll make you proud, Sir Caelan!” said Glyka, before she, too, melted into the shadows and began cutting her own green-dusted path through the hordes with her twin shortswords.

“So that means you and I hold the line?” said Mahja, taking the words out of his mouth.

“You beat me to it.”

Caelan and Mahja planted themselves in front of the main horde of demons emerging from the oily-iridescent black planar gate, hacking apart the seemingly endless onslaught with his longsword and her greataxe. Lucs and Glyka were out of view, but were evidently nearby and in the thick of battle, as evidenced by the demonic horde thinning out, and strong, large demons falling from what appeared to be attacks on their wings and lower limbs. Adalheid raised up great walls of mushrooms, earth, and stone to protect the fleeing civilians, and their refuge, Askania’s royal castle. Any demons foolish or bloodlusted enough to brave the onslaught of stone and spore received an elemental blast courtesy of Pieta’s barriers. And dealing with the flying demons was Ionanthe, the storm dragon in her element. When the city guard returned, under Wolton’s command, they too joined the fray. Everyone that could fight was needed to beat back the invaders.

As they fought on and on, Caelan realized that he wasn’t tired, and evidently neither was Mahja. And as he looked at her during a lull in the fighting, he noticed that she was faintly, but noticeably glowing--and so was he. He was almost certain that everyone else who was fighting had been similarly blessed. Even royal guardsmen that he had seen fall dead minutes earlier rose up to rejoin the fight as though they had never been wounded, let alone slain. When Mahja looked at him questioningly, he nodded and offered her a half-smile, which she returned. He looked around and saw that there were ethereal, human-sized rays of light engaging the demons in combat, alongside his party and the royal soldiers. Angels, he realized.

The gods themselves had decided to fight through the barriers between worlds to aid them against the demons in every way they could. Caelan and his party could not let them down.

As frightened people fled, the royal army bravely aided the evacuation of Askania. While they were mostly protected by walls of mushrooms and stone cast by Adalheid and elemental barriers cast by Pieta, the soldiers still had to fight off hungry, wrathful demons. Even with the gods’ grace shining in their weapons and shields, and the magical protection provided by Caelan’s friends, it was a fraught and dangerous mission.

Emilie helped guide the frightened citizens into the safety of the royal castle’s undercroft once the soldiers escorted them out of the dangerous city streets. It was the best she could do, being unable to fight herself. For a moment, she cursed her own weakness, being unable to help Caelan and his party fight off the demonic legions, **** to only sit and wait as the sounds of fierce battle raged above.

She armed herself with a nearby unlit candelabra, even knowing that it would be useless if the horde got past the royal guards…past Caelan. She could not bear to think about that. So instead, she focused on keeping order amongst the terrified civilians, trying to pretend that she was not as frightened as they were. And she prayed that Aldir would aid the knight he considered his champion on earth, that Caelan would win, that he would be safe.

“Foolish little paladin!” roared Asmodea. She was the leader of the demonic incursion, a high-ranking lord of the hells and self-styled queen, seeking to expand her painful rule into the Material Plane and use its ruins to challenge the Gods themselves. She stood in front of the planar gate she had opened, seemingly unguarded. The air surrounding her shimmered with her overwhelming demonic power, which was augmented further by the sickly purple glow emanating from the planar gate.

She cast a massive blast of dark magic in front of her, at Caelan. In response, he raised his shield to intercept it, absorbing the spell with his now-twice-blessed shield. As she looked on, stunned that her attack hadn’t worked, he pressed his advance. He would not let her collect herself so that she could harm anyone under his protection.

Above him, immense bolts of blue lightning arced across the sky, disintegrating any flying demon that tried to approach the castle or the fighters on the ground. If Caelan looked up, he was sure that he would see Ionanthe, in her full dragon form, ruling over the skies above Askania with the gods’ blessing, casting down any demonic intruders to her domain with lightning and thunder.

Around him, Pieta and Adalheid focused fully on the fight, now that the civilians were safe inside the castle. With their newly-restored magic, they could freely cast their most powerful spells without fear of exhausting their magic. Adalheid drained the life energy out of hordes of demons when they were entangled in her fungal tendrils, while raising stone walls to protect the city from collateral damage. Meanwhile Pieta cast beams of ominous red light with surgical precision that disintegrated any demon in their path while avoiding allies and buildings.

He spotted Lucs, or rather, the rogue allowed himself to be seen, sneaking across the battlefield that had once been a vibrant city, aided by both his masterful stealth and the divine favor, looking not at Asmodea, but at the planar gate behind her. Glyka was near him, but her eyes were fixed on Asmodea. The older goblin looked at him and Glyka, grinned wide, and pulled out a runed ritual knife that glowed with arcane and divine power. Perhaps that might be enough to close the planar gate? He nodded, and Lucs vanished into the melee once more.

Behind Caelan, a shadow loomed, and the combined stench of sulfur and rotting flesh, now a shout rather than an omnipresent hum, grew closer. Before he could wheel around, he heard the swing of twin shortswords, as the ambushing demon was slain by Glyka.

“Sir Caelan! Look out!”

“Thanks, Glyka,” said Caelan.

He knew that slaying Asmodea was the only way that the demonic incursion would stop. Besides, Lucs had to be protected as he disrupted the planar gate. Caelan tried not to think about what would happen if either of them failed. He steeled himself, and prepared to cut his way to the so-called demon queen.

Glyka piped up, as though she could read his thoughts. “You can do it, Sir Caelan! Go save us all!” While the words were genuine and encouraging, the message was clear.

Caelan didn’t need to be told again.

Asmodea glowered at Caelan. “It’s frankly insulting that such a soft and weak god like Aldir dares to think his champion has a chance at stopping my conquest. Family, community, protection of the same? A champion of Ormugr, the so-called war god, would be a worthier opponent.”

He did not respond to her provocation, and continued to advance. In return, she peppered him with dark magic blasts that his shield absorbed harmlessly. “What’s the matter, little paladin? See something you like? Or perhaps you’ll try and talk me into stopping, believing that there’s still good in me, that I deserve a second chance if only I stopped my plans for conquest. Hah, as if! But I want to hear you try.”

“You missed all your chances a long time ago,” said Caelan. His voice carried over the din of the battle. “And I will protect everyone! It’s my duty!”

He was now in front of her, and she parried his blows with her sword, a construct from her own dark magic. She took the opportunity to taunt him further.

“Would you still feel the same sense of duty and honor if you weren’t called a hero by this lesser king? You look like a monster, not a hero!”

“Yes, because I live here! And you’ll kill everyone I love, no matter what I look like!”

“Come now. If you sided with me, I would spare whoever you wished from my conquest. Perhaps they would even have a position of honor in my court.”

At that, Caelan paused his reply to think, only holding her back as their blades were crossed in a bind. Asmodea watched his face for any signs that her words were affecting him. She smirked as she saw the paladin’s face shift.

“You waver now. Do you hear the truth in my words?”

While Caelan’s grip on his blade didn’t waver, his expression shifted into cold, genuine fury.

“There is nothing you could say that would convince me to side with you. Not after seeing how you ‘reward’ your allies for their loyalty.”

“Then perhaps you weren’t listening. Typical.”

“I didn’t have to listen to a word you said,” Caelan said, as his scowl changed into a very un-paladin-like smirk. “I just had to distract you.”

As he spoke, the omnipresent purple glow of the planar gate suddenly disappeared. Any unlucky demons that were in the gate at the moment it closed were bisected. They dissolved into green dust. Asmodea wheeled around to see that Lucs had used the ritual knife to disrupt the runic array keeping the gate open on the Material Plane. Her furious scream turned into one of pain as two strikes to her legs from Glyka’s shortswords connected. The demoness was surrounded. No more demons would enter through the gate, and the ones that were here were being cut down by axes and spells and lightning blasts.

Asmodea snarled at Caelan, who had not let down his guard, and still held her sword in a bind.

“GRAAAH! How dare you try and distract me? You’re a paladin of Aldir! You shouldn’t even know what ‘distract’ means!” shouted Asmodea.

In her fury, she transformed her sword into a blast of pure magic, with all the dark power that she could muster. “I’ll kill you for this!”

Caelan frantically moved his shield to block the spell, but it was futile. It went through Caelan’s blessed armor and shield, straight through to his heart. Caelan collapsed backwards from the sheer **** of the attack, and landed on the ground with a harsh thump. His vision went black, and the sounds of the battle quickly faded away. He did not rise again.

When Asmodea’s spell hit Caelan, he felt excruciating pain for a fraction of a second as his vision went black, and then nothing at all. And then he saw a brilliant light, and realized he stood in a beautiful green meadow. And yet he still wore his armor, still bore his sword and shield.

As his eyes adjusted, he heard a voice that was strangely familiar. It was not merely speech, but he could hear the words as thoughts in his mind. He’d heard this voice every time Aldir had communed with him. “Hello, young Caelan. I wish that you were here under better circumstances.”

Caelan looked at the speaker, a pillar of sunlight he instinctively knew was Aldir, and then immediately dropped to his knees, averting his eyes. He would not dare to look directly at Aldir. He did not even dare speak to the god unless he was spoken to.

“Rise, my champion, and look at me. You have nothing to fear here.”

On shaking legs, Caelan rose. As he looked at Aldir, the pillar of sunlight coalesced into the form of a stout, muscular, human man with light brown skin, close-cut deep brown hair and a short beard, dressed in a light gray linen tunic and brown trousers. He realized that this place was Aldir’s realm in the Celestial Plane.

“...did I die?” he asked. His voice was barely a whisper.

Aldir gave him a sad smile, and placed his hand on Caelan’s shoulder to comfort him. “You did, and you did not.”

“What do you mean?” Caelan’s shock was enough that he forgot that he was a mortal talking to Aldir.

“I gave you a spark of divinity when we all intervened in the final battle. You are no longer fully mortal. You have earned it many times over through your deeds as my champion. No, not merely my champion--my herald.”

“Why would you? I’m not worthy of it.”

“Let me be the judge of that, young Caelan. I assure you that I did not grant my gift in error.”

Caelan wanted to argue, but could not, not with the deity he served. Instead, he thought of the battle. “What’s going on in Askania? Send me back now! I need to help defend the city!”

“I was about to ask you if you wished to return, young Caelan. I see I have my answer. And to answer your question, do not worry. It was only a few moments that you were in my realm.”

Aldir gave Caelan a fond, fatherly hug. Then Caelan’s world went black once more, as he was sent back to finish the battle.

Caelan returned to consciousness suddenly, still lying on his back. He could hear the sounds of battle, specifically Mahja’s roar of fury and the sounds of her axe cleaving any demon around her into green dust. He opened his eyes to see that Asmodea was not paying him, or what she perceived to be his corpse, any attention. Instead she focused on Glyka and Lucs, who were nearest to her. He kept an eye on her as he got to his feet and picked up his sword, but she did not appear to even notice him.

“It is now your turn to die, goblins!” cackled Asmodea. “You pathetic creatures shall be the first to pay for your hubris!”

Neither Lucs nor Glyka looked ready to back down, from what Caelan could see. Lucs had traded the ritual knife for a wicked-looking runed rapier, and his teeth were bared in a silent snarl. Glyka had thrown herself in front of Lucs, both her shortswords at the ready. The tears streaming down her face only served to highlight her raw fury. Caelan’s heart clenched. He had to stop her. He couldn’t let Asmodea harm anyone else!

Before he could even think about it, Caelan lunged forward, sword in hand. His aim was true, and he stabbed Asmodea in the back with his blessed sword before she could attack the goblins. She let out a shocked grunt that was swiftly silenced when Caelan stabbed her again, causing her to fall to her knees. In the back of his mind, he realized that his friends and allies did not expect him to rise again from the dead. But all that mattered was making sure that the greatest threat to the Material Plane that he’d faced was reduced to dust like all her forces, and could never again harm those he loved.

Caelan stood over the fallen demoness Asmodea, watching her corporeal form dissolve into a sickeningly brilliant green dust that was quickly absorbed by the powdery black fungus that Adalheid had grown earlier in the battle, to clean up the demonic dust and prevent it from poisoning the land. Now that the battle was won, it was time to repair the city, restore people to their homes, deal with the possible aftershocks of the battle as they reverberated across the kingdom. If there was another planar gate somewhere, perhaps they could seal it, preventing any incursions from the hells ever again--

Mahja ran up to him, supporting him with her strong body before he even realized he was going to fall. While she was clearly exhausted, she still had some energy. “Come on, Cay. Addy’s going to heal you, before you get back into things.”

“She should heal someone who needs it more. I need to--”

“You literally died facing that demon bitch! And Aldir brought you back somehow! If anyone needs it more, it’s you! And besides, we will all rest and celebrate today, and then begin cleaning up tomorrow, whatever Addy’s mushrooms don't catch, that’s apparently an order from the castle. From Princey herself! That includes you.”

Caelan wanted to argue, but was cut off by a yawn. Mahja gave him a mischievous grin. “That’s a sure sign from Aldir that you are to rest.”

“Don’t invoke him in vain,” said Caelan, but there was no bite in his tone.

If that yawn was indeed a sign from Aldir, then he would be wise to heed it.