Zaxon

Zaxon, once the human embodiment of radiance and veneration, found his fate forever damaged by his ascent to the divine. As a cleric, he was the beacon from which light and hope seemed to emanate, casting warmth upon those who crossed his path. His belief in his own sanctity was profound; he walked as one who was touched by the gods, his every act of kindness and gentleness a testament to this divine favor.

However, the transmutation from mortal to deity proved to be a crucible that Zaxon's human psyche could not withstand. Immortality, a gift to some, became his curse. The man who once craved the spotlight began to wither beneath its ceaseless glow. The adulation he sought became an obsession; the attention he once found invigorating transformed into a relentless pressure that frayed the edges of his sanity.

His demeanor, once the source of comfort, twisted into something grotesque as his demands for devotion escalated to fanaticism. Only clerics who would surrender their fealty exclusively to him were deemed worthy, yet even they could not satisfy his insatiable need for loyalty. The smile that had charmed so many now served as a chilling prelude to his unraveling mind, a harrowing indication of the madness that had taken root.

In his delirium, Zaxon's thoughts turned to escape, a flight from the confines of Rotania and the curse that bound him there. But the land's curse was tenacious, and in his desperation, Zaxon contemplated the unthinkable—obliteration of all that lay between him and his freedom. It was within this maelstrom of madness that his closest followers, Bob Bob and Arthur, clashed in a tragic duel that would decide the future of all who dwelled in Zaxon's shadow.

The truth of that fateful confrontation has eroded with time, the details lost like whispers in the wind. The aftermath left only fragments—a fallen god, a follower who bore the weight of his demise, and another who vanished, memory purged as if by self-inflicted penance.

Rumors persist like the faintest flickers of twilight. Some whisper that Zaxon's end was a ruse, that he somehow slipped the surly bonds of Rotania. Others murmur that Bob Bob is but a mask Zaxon now wears, a facade as convincing as the lies he weaves. But these are tales for another time, echoes of a legacy that, like the light of a distant star, may have already ceased to be. For now, Zaxon remains a cautionary tale of human fragility in the face of eternity, a reminder that not all are meant to wield the power of gods.