A Plan Forms

Hunkering down in the shadows, he prepared himself for the task ahead. His powers were useless here, except as an offensive measure.
"I cannot help them. Damn this curse"
Arcaddes looked to his hands, once smooth and young now they were bony, skin wrapped tightly around the fingers, frail..... these were the hands of a monster, a killer, not a healer. He looked to his party. Little Dido, hair glowing faintly, Thorn.. strong, proud, able, embracing his new found faith with great dedication. He looked at Arturus, noble to the end; Gnaomi, small, diminutive, but with great strength of character; Rhys, still confused but willing to go through to the end. He thought of little Magnolia back with the priestess. Her powers were remarkable, so potent. All of them, experts in what it is they did. He looked at his hands again, he could see the tendons and muscles twitch as he balled them into fists. He was no expert, he was a forgotten soul.
"This is the life I chose, for what purpose? Just to have Orannis come again. How could they really stop him? Even his former companions, seasoned clerics, nearly demigods, champions of the Ancients could only Banish him. What use was it to try and do that again..... he would only return. He always returns....."
Arcaddes jerked his head up and looked at the Desmodu soldiers. They were dying, not a single one had been spared the horror of having to slay a love one that had been stricken with Lycanthropy. Their clerics had been made useless, once again, by the coming of Orannis.
"Always it is him, always, he destroys, devours, until their is nothing left. He can only take, only consume."
Arcaddes felt a growing sorrow rise again, a sorrow that had died millenia ago. He remembered his former companions. He remembered Orcanos the Mighty, beautiful Shalen, Balnarak the Great, Mithinas and her unusual sense of humor, Alora the Wise and Ehlnea, whose ambition knew no bounds. They were all benevolent, all wonderful companions, all lost.
"And only I remain. I should have died with them. I should be watching these events beside the Ancients, looking down on the new champion in my place, wishing them well".
They were gone, his friends, his compatriots, all were now living in peace and content.
No...... not all......
There was one still here on this plane, one who had somehow made it back from apparent destruction.
ACERAK....
Yes he had returned. Once the most powerful servant of Darigaaz, Acerak had turned his allegiance to Orannis. His fear of old age and death had driven him mad, mad enough to make a pact with the Dark One, he chose Lichdom in service to Orannis to avoid death and peace with Darigaaz. It was his conversion that set the events of the first war into place. Acerak began a search for the most powerful Liches in Faerun to bring into Orannis' service. He found 6, 6 souls to oppose the other 6 champions of the Ancients. They would be outnumbered, outmatched, until the Champions made a decision, to elect a new champion, one brought to faith by Acerak himself.
"They were foolish to choose me".
Anger began to build within him as he remembered his former master, Acerak. He had found Arcaddes as an orphan in the village of Mount Haven Foots. He had provided for him, taught him the ways of Darigaaz, taught him to pray, to cast clerical magics, to essentially be a follower of the Ancients; and then he left. He had offered one chance to come with him, and when Arcaddes refused he was nearly killed. Only the interference of Orcanos and Alora had saved him.

Arcaddes shook the recollections from his mind. His companions had been granted the peace they deserved, their eternal souls at last at rest....

"Unless.... yes yes, I could, but not here, I would need, yes, that should do it"