You slumber, in the outer reaches of time, unaffected by the goings on of the mortal realms. Your mind stirs for a brief moment, a signal that your devout followers have performed a summoning ritual, calling to you for aid. To appear before them in this form would cause their minds to tear themselves asunder, make them rip their flesh from their bones, have them gouge out their eyes in brilliant agony. They may never witness your true form, yet you must appear before them. [Ask player what form they take to appear before their cultists] You project your image to appear before your followers, awaiting their request. Their High Priest steps forward, head bowed with arms spread wide in a display of reverence. “We require your aid, o' great Master. Our people were recently attacked by a group calling themselves Followers of the Radiant One. We fear there may be a new god rising to power, trying to purge the lands of your influence. We have lost many of our own, so we must beg your forgiveness and your aid in exterminating these pests, as many of our warriors were slain defending the altar and we have not the numbers to slay these Followers ourselves.” The man bows even deeper and takes a step back, awaiting your verdict.