"All right, everyone please calm down–" Gorion began.

"I'll see you in the hells!"

"I'll put you there!"

"Imoen's my sister!"

"She's mine!"

"Boys… and girls…" Gorion tried again.

"I am heir to the Throne of Murder!"

"Alaundo's prophecies spoke of me!"

This was going to be a long day.

It had all started when the multiverse collided. Everything fused together. While most people just merged into themselves, for some reason, there was an oddity with his ward. Hundreds, if not thousands appeared, each declaring he, or she, was 'Charname'. None of it made sense. The old sage scratched his head. Could Bhaal really have been so prolific?

Half dragons, rainbow coloured dwarves, sane gnomes, pretty elves, sassy half elves, plucky drow, evil Halflings, good Halflings, humans of all varieties… many, many katanas, many more sorcerers, aasimar of all ages… familiars…

This was giving him a headache.

And all of them were after someone called 'Sarevok'? Except for a few who wanted to live peaceful lives and get away from their cruel destiny, but how did they even know about their linage? Or Imoen? And who were the legion of kaleidoscopic, shimmering girls for which the universe's laws bent around.

And what in the gods' madness was 'Spellplague'? Creator Races? Time Travel? Neverwinter…

He was getting too old for this.