The withered illithilich stands at a podium in the Planar Cartographer's Guild. He is tired, and irritable, and forced to speek on his own, having recently lost his last thrall to the machinations of the arch-devil Hordak.
"Well, sentients, it has come again, another conjunction of forces that will make Vecna's intrusion look like a kick in the breeches. I have seen hints of a future where the Great Wheel is shattered, where the angels serve dark gods as well as light, and where the yugoloth have signed away their individuality to serve among the demons. A time where Limbo swallows the Elemental Planes and the Abyss... and the Outer Planes shatter into a million fragments, floating through the timeless Astral. I cannot bear these portents alone... I seek the counsel of the wise and learned, and those who know "the dark" of things. Let us speak of how these things will come to be, how we shall endure them, and what we might do in reaction..."
The alhoon offers the floor to any who would speak...
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