All Hail Dregnoth
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The First Sermon of Caesar, Pope of the Alchemist
In the shifting chaos of Limbo, creatures are born from madness and magic. Among them was a Blue Slaad named Caesar, a creature of tremendous strength and very little thought.
Caesar stood nearly twenty feet tall, with arms thick as tree trunks and a mind as simple as a river stone. His strength was legendary—he could tear open iron gates or throw wagons like toys—but complex ideas drifted past him like clouds he could never quite grab.
What Caesar did have, however, was loyalty.
And that loyalty belonged entirely to a strange mortal alchemist named Dregnoth.
Dregnoth was not like other mortals. His potions exploded more often than they worked. His theories changed hourly. One moment he claimed the universe was made of four elements, the next moment seven, and by lunchtime possibly cheese.
But to Caesar, this was proof of something greater.
“Only gods change the rules of the world,” Caesar once said proudly.
The trouble began when someone in the party jokingly said:
“Dregnoth, with the way your experiments bend reality, you might become a god one day.”
For most people, that would have been a joke.
But Caesar was Chaotic Neutral, and in Caesar’s mind if someone said something, it became a truth waiting to happen.
Caesar nodded very seriously.
“Dregnoth will be god,” he declared.
No one corrected him.
This was a mistake.
The First Church
The first church appeared three weeks later in a small city.
Caesar had purchased a crumbling abandoned tavern with a sack of gold and a handshake strong enough to nearly dislocate the seller’s shoulder.
He tore down the sign and replaced it with a crudely carved wooden symbol: a bubbling flask with lightning coming out of it.
Inside, he built an altar made from a broken laboratory table.
Candles surrounded it.
Strange glass bottles decorated the walls.
When asked what this place was, Caesar proudly declared:
“Church of Dregnoth.”
When the party arrived, they found about fifteen confused townsfolk sitting on benches while Caesar attempted to give a sermon.
“Dregnoth makes potions, and creates” Caesar explained.
“Potions change the world. Gods make creatures . Therefore Dregnoth is a god.”This logic, while questionable, was delivered with such absolute conviction that a few people nodded slowly.
One old man whispered, “That… actually makes a sort of sense.”
The Rise of the Faithful
The real problem was that Caesar never stopped.
Every city the party visited gained another church.
Old warehouses. Empty temples. Abandoned bakeries.
Caesar bought them all.
He installed altars covered in alchemy equipment.
He preached about The Coming Apotheosis of Dregnoth.
And because Caesar was a twenty-foot-tall Blue Slaad with strength beyond reason, no one was eager to argue theology with him.
Soon strange followers began appearing.
Failed scholars. Mad philosophers. Retired adventurers who had seen too much magic.
They began calling themselves The Disciples of the Big Sexy.
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Nope. All the nope. I can’t argue the damned temples of Luv, because dad, but mom? Nope. All the nope.
