The invitations were sent, to all corners of the world, to all manner of beings; good and evil, human and monster, weak and powerful. It came through countless different means; handwritten, embossed letters, delivered by couriers, notes tied to the leg of a bird, specific and vivid dreams, even signs and portents from the spirit world, to be interpreted by those who recognized them. While the delivery and content of each message varied, fitting the language and the personality of the recipient, fitting to their desires, providing some proof to the legitimacy of the claim, and a hook, worded specifically to them, certain to draw them, all contained the same, basic elements.<br/><br/>"You have been invited to the manor of Baron Ormarr, located on the western side of the continent of Adros, seventeen miles north of the city of Ravincia, and three miles west of the border of the Great Forest. Arrive on or before the third day of the fourth week of the seventh month of this year. I have a proposal of great interest to you, an opportunity unlike any other."<br/><br/>The notice would always arrive, providing the recipient ample time to reach the massive manor, assuming they left almost immediately. Most arrived within a week of the date, trickling in from all corners of the world, dozens upon dozens of beings. All were met at the front gate, greeted with open arms, at all hours of the day, regardless of reputation or appearance, and informed of the rules of the manor; Do not harm the other guests, under any circumstances, do not damage the property, do not disturb the master, and prepare yourself for a journey.<br/><br/>All guests would be informed of the facilities available; a comprehensive library, including of spells, a training facility for the martially inclined, and other relaxing features for other guests. Each would have their own room, lightly furnished, and usually accommodating their specific needs, if required. There are surprisingly few conflicts, despite the fact that paladins walk the halls openly with demons and devils. What few disagreements erupt into battle there are, they are either quickly ended by bystanders, or the lord of the manor, a silent, stoic, imposing figure, rarely seen for more than a moment, stops all combatants with a word, a glare, or, if needed, a spell.<br/><br/>The evening of the appointed date, all were gathered in the main hall, nearly a hundred in total, all awaiting the great announcement that brought them all here. The tension was high, as everyone wondered why they'[d been summoned, for what purpose, what great destiny? Who was this Baron Ormarr, and why did he need such an eclectic group?<br/><br/>A hushed silence feel over the hall, as he entered, walking through the middle of the seated crowd, to the far side of the room, calmly, silently. He was an imposing figure, tall, muscular, but looked skinny.<br/><br/>"I imagine you're wondering why I've called all of you here, today?" He looks around the room, at some of the more powerful people on Solith. Heroes and villains, champions, scoundrels, sell-swords, even a few some might consider monsters. An unlikely crowd. 'For an unlikely purpose,' he thinks to himself.<br/><br/>"The truth of the matter is, I've brought you here because I have a plan. A plan... to kill a god."