Pelo, the Deva Invoker

Pelo has lived a hundred lives, but remembers them only as dreams of dreams. He is a player character.

Backstory
Sitting atop the Lion Gate’s east tower, facing southwest, I watch the sun tiptoeing into the craggy peaks of what the townsfolk call The Great Barrier. I knew I was not new to this land when I heard its name, because it had a haunting familiarity. Not the kind of haunt that makes one wish for seclusion and protection, but the haunt that raises the hair on your arms and warms your spine. That which births curiosity, adventure, and destiny. The salted air fills my lungs with life, just as the waning sunlight fills my heart with joy. O, Pelor! How good you are to me!

This is the fourth day in a row I’ve come to this parapet to meditate, just as those of Damacia’s elite amble home after a feast for so-and-so’s promotion or such-and-such a victory on the Fields of Justice. At the same time that those more humbly inclined sweep their children under arm, out of the streets, and into their beds, I come here to enjoy a night of peaceful rejuvenation. It is here in the last hours of a long summer day that I find the most clarity in the visions I have of former lives. I know, for one, that these last few days are not the first time I have happened upon this location, or even a sunset such as this.

Flash of light. Darkness. A forest. Mountain peaks surround me as I run through the trees. I hear the wretched terror of battle before me. Running faster now, I must save them! Who? Why am I running with this staff in my hand? Why am I running toward this battle, rather that away? No hint of fear in my step or in my heart, I break through the line of trees to behold death. A roar of stone and pine crashes from the mountainside onto an entire battalion of ironclad soldiers, crushing a pastorally perfect cottage on its way, and sweeping the entire splintering, screaming wreckage into a shimmering pit before me. I fall to my knees, the courage and hope wrenched from my soul, and for a moment, all is quiet.

A dark man clothed in hatred emerges from the glen to my right, followed by soldiers with disciplined fury in their eyes. They move slowly, except for their leader who steps well ahead of the advance with a look of sick ecstasy on his face. Suddenly, the glen opposite them erupts with shining warriors. Their appearance makes them out to be the saviors of this valley, but I know at once:  There is only greed in their hearts. The dark man raised his staff and his lips had just began to move, when I, instantly in agony, leap forward of no choice of my own. Light rips from my flesh in a vertical wall. dividing the scene evenly, from grass blade to treetop. Then black.

I open my eyes just as the sun disappears from sight, and the seas shadow falls heavily across the land. Over my shoulder I look east, and in the far off distance, countless miles beyond sight of any physical landmark, the sky mourns, and dark clouds become proud. Something was there that words could not explain. Places were there where sunlight had never gone. I see the dark man’s sinister face again. He is laughing. He is looking at me. He looks back at his army and holds up his free hand. “Stop!”  On the other side of the wall of light, the bright soldiers slow and shortly stop, just shy of the wall of light. Assuming a defensive stance, they cluster together and creep in the direction they had previously seen their enemies. The first few soldiers come in contact with the wall, and their shields vaporize. Their turtle collapses and they stumble away in confusion. But I can feel the dark man’s glare again. I turn to see him next to me, his staff raised. Boom! He freezes. My vision tunnels, then fails entirely.

I hear a rooster crow. Still facing east, I am blinded by the morning sun. I hear children's laughter below me.

O, Pelor! How good you are to me!

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