Drenak Everhate sits in a shadowed corner of the Sigilian tavern, nursing a glass of wine; the vintage was only moderately good, but it had become far more valuable after the world that produced it fell before the advancing armies of Hell.<br/><br/>Hell.  All those years he'd spent trying to bring down his own sphere's pantheon, and it turns out he'd been stomping at roaches when a flight of dragons was visible on the horizon.  The wretched, meddling gods were nothing compared to the Lords of the Nine.  The thought made the slender Drow male simmer with rage, though he kept it tightly veiled; little love though he had for... people, he had a constitutional objection to any and all of the "higher powers" (or lower, in this case) that went about blithely meddling in mortal affairs which were none of their concern.  Leave ruling mortals to the mortals, he said (keeping his own mortality in mind all the while).<br/><br/>Hopefully, this venture would work out better than the last.  He'd already found what he hoped were some like-minded individuals; able to work together against the advance of Perdition, but not burdened by false ideals and self-righteousness.  His messages had been sent to each of them in turn... now, if only they would hurry up and get here!<br/><br/>(OOC: Those "like-minded individuals" would be the other PCs.  Hope nobody minds me taking the initiative here.)