Cancelling the Apocalypse

Lord Shades seemed uncharacteristically cautious as he closed the war room door behind Kingsley. She had been sitting for the last hour, so she found herself a place to stand outside of silence spell Shades was casting on the door. Suddenly she had the initially unnerving experience of receiving an unexpected telepathic message.
So, whatcha think o’ your first rodeo, Sword Sister?
 Kingsley grimaced, caught in that awkward place between
wanting to be polite and being sworn to never lie. Thyr’s kingdom for a lead helmet to hide under.
I appreciate the invitation but- this rodeo had a lot of talking and very little actual rodeo, she tried. She furrowed her brows as if to propel the thought out through her forehead, an amusing instinct for those unfamiliar with this type of magic. Shades made raspy gurgle that could have been a chuckle.
I figured as much. I didn’t bring y’here to talk politics. I brought y’here to invite you to join the Great Downward Engineerin’ Company.
…Go on.
Frankly, Greyton and Dejune wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your bravery during the Unrighteous March. The Great Downward have a great respect for you, Sister, and to have you wastin’ away in the Fallen Sword is a damn shame. You must be itchin’ to take that new sword to the faces o’ bad folks who deserve it.
True as my lady’s blade. The Sword Sister grinned. Can the Great Downward Engineering Company top a corrupted archangel?
Kingsley m’dear, you have no idea.
There isn’t really an easy way to tell someone that your master plan that would hopefully solve most of your town’s problems was to go out and cut a god. Kingsley took it remarkably well, though she did have the firsthand experience of hacking down an archangel with a devil’s unholy blade. Wisdom was for Mitra, and safety was for Thyr. A desperate balls-out push to vanquish a mighty foe was completely in Muir’s ballpark.
The Grand Cornu was the weakest point of the Cornu/Master/Orcus loop, but was unfortunately invincible whilst he channelled Orcus’ energy to summon the Master. Cutting Orcus would make him panic just enough to disrupt the flow. Cut Orcus, jump the Cornu. Bang. No more Cornu, no more Master. No more Master, and no Orcus upon the Prime Material. The apocalypse is cancelled for long enough for anyone currently alive to die fat, old and happy.
So we’re out to stab a god. Kingsley remarked, feeling somewhat less sane for it. I don’t suppose you have a god-stabber handy for the occasion?
Well that’s just the thing ain’t it? To cut a god you also gotta be a god. Deicide got your Lady and Kalaymah done in, so no one up there's really chompin’ at the bit for the job. To cut Orcus, we gotta make our own.
Tell me how this is something plausible Shades.
Well, we have a piece o’ the Starstone. It ain’t enough to make a permanent god, but it’s a shard big enough to keep a god runnin’ long enough to strike Orcus on his throne. We need the blood o’ a dead god and a god’s old artefact to arm them with.
Are you looking for the Bloody Hand? Kingsley’s heart lit up with the same nervous excitement she felt when she first took up Lady Arlington’s blade.
We’re lookin’ for whatever artefact and blood we can get our snitchers on, sister, we ain’t got time to be choosy. At least with the Bloody Hand we don’t have ourselves in the position where we gotta kill a god so we can cut another. The last thing is… we also need a soul.
It was Shades’ turn to be anxious. He mulled over his next words very carefully, before projecting them over to Kingsley.
They’d be a willin’ soul o’ course, a mortal to elevate to godhood. That’s what the Starstone does, right? But they’d have to know that their divinity ain’t gonna last long. They’ll be a god until they make their strike. And then they’ll find themselves a mortal right in front o’ Orcus, in his home plane, and within easy reach o’ his wrath. 
Your god is going to die a mortal, alone in the abyss and at the hands of a furious demon king. That's not the easiest job to advertise for.
You're tellin' me. It's gonna bring in the crazies, the saboteurs, the narcissists, the liars and the delusional. Maybe they're one o' Zelkor's old buddies trapped in Rappan Athuk somewhere, full o' enough piss 'n vinegar to flip Orcus off one last time. Or maybe they've been wastin' away under our noses all this time, itchin' for some bad folks to fight. I can't think o' anyone better to help us find the soul we need than the Champion o' My Lord's Sister.
When do I start?
When you get yourself some dungeon-bashin' threads, sister.