Following the expulsion of the source of all his madness and driving off the Knoits for a time, Roitaven achieved a fleeting moment of clarity. He understood that his being was still corrupted by fragments of darkness. The powers of the dark goddesses Mixaq and Skivrend combined were too great and vexing for him to defeat alone. A protector, a champion for the light was needed. This champion would need to be able to cleanse the swarms of Skivrend’s Knoits from the galaxy while Roitaven purged his God-Flesh from of the remaining infections of dark. The words of his oath rang through his mind.

“There shall be no hope, nor quarter given to the ones who created this atrocity. My anger and fury shall, too, become incarnate. Not as a horde of pestering abominations, but a single warrior to rival all their strength who fights unyielding. And to my son I shall declare the name of my aggressor to be Skivrend, by my anger and fury that married her countenance with light and fire, so, too, shall I and my warrior see her obliteration. To this I swear.”

Thrice more he curse Skivrend and though he just released a great timult to the galaxy he found no salve for his rage.

He returned to occupy the inner chambers of the Opilan Star and in his burning power began to weave the tempest energies into a form. Imbuing his flame with the ashes of the Knoits, Roitaven began to craft a brilliant blade from the heart of his massive star. It was at first nothing more than leaping fire, but with each pass and each addition of Knoit ash, he solidified its form until it shimmered onyx black and was ever wreathed in white heat and dire flame; and producing it from the crucible he so named it Voidbane.

Yet holding it aloft in his great hands he felt it was not for him, not for his hand to wield this weapon of wroth. And he meditated on the nature of the Knoits who had befallen him, they who were some form of living as he was, though vastly lesser. His champion would not be lesser as the Void-goddess had presumed, the champion of his light would be of himself, of his God-flesh. And in his meditation he felt the burning power. Eyes closed and mind focused, Roitaven took Voidbane and plunged the branding sword deep into his leg. Skin, veins, muscle, and bone were pierced. The blade was drawn through God-flesh and bone exposing the meat within. In agony, but determined, Roitaven slipped the marrow from its ivory sheath.

The marrow spilled out, writhing and contorting in the heat of its release and Roitaven imbued it with his own power. It began to fold in on itself and grow stout legs, four mighty arms, and a face that was soon vaunted behind hard armor of dense bone. Covered in living armor the warrior knelt before his creator’s awesome visage and looked up to him. The marrow had taken the form of a luminescent warrior. He spoke with a voice that was serine and dangerous, hidden and muffled in his living armor.

“I was imprisoned in an alabaster cage surrounded by an impenetrable void!” Spoke the warrior. “What is this place?”

Roitaven, with his opened leg and fiery sword, lifted his head up, though weakened by pain, and spoke to the deity before him.

“This is a new universe. I am Roitaven and you are so named Bolmorro, my champion. You will protect me as I expunge from my divinity the darkness that seeks to extinguish all light from this era. You are made by the purity that I isolated in the center of this star, Opilan, my God-Throne.”

Raising his fiery sword to Bolmorro, Roitaven continued. “Take this blade, my champion. It is the instrument of your freedom and the bond to your savior. So it is named Voidbane and is your instrument to wreak vengeance.”

Bolmorro, the luminescent warrior looked at the burning blade before him and spoke as he reached out to it.

“I can feel the spreading darkness in the Galaxy, I can feel it in you. Swarms of dark beings stalk your creation. I will be your protector, but to be your champion, I will need an army. I must spread light through the cosmos, destroy the Knoits, and end what plagues you.”

“You’re entire essence is needed while I cleanse my God-Flesh. This star, where your blade was forged, is dying. I must gain strength to form a new Throne. Use the matter of this place to build your army and cleanse the Galaxy with Light!”

Bolmorro took Voidbane and kneeled to the God as the light of the star diminished. “As you wish. Together we shall purge this darkness.”

So it is said.

By Ira Caine

Edited by Jason Pratley

Jason Pratley joined the team sometime in 2013 when he created the concepts for the gods of ODR. He has since become the Writing Director and de facto loremaster for DDG. Check out some other stories and content at jvfpp.wordpress.com and goodevilcomic.com